autumn throws away
its cheap gold
in
a
decoration celebration
i walk across it on a sick day afternoon
and
realise
how Hard the Easy things are
the drain of the
shower
shit
and shave - any daily discipline
a
Himalaya challenge
when
seafog comes in thru my ears
and
rolls soup-dense
over
the synapses
dulled
lighthouse sparks
even
stubbing
this
finished
cigarette out
takes
new
logarithm
concentration
and writing - jesus bandini christ !
i
vivisect myself at the desk
for
baby
Ladybird
beginner
prose
too on the gold carpet
i
realise
how Easy the Hard things are
honesty's floodgates torn down / sold for scrap
i
wear
the
scars
and
the
holes
and
the
worn
organs
like superhero spandex everyday
even the observation
of the burnt out flatline
is
a
razors edge smudged with good blood
and
rambunctious kipple
that
i
balance my old boots on
without
regret
foreboding
or
anger
willing my procrastination to turn to pragmatism
in
times natural fibers tidal weave
from vintagecobweb.com
