this doesn’t hurt enough like old plant pots
the roots grow too big i want to be a plant
i’d have some concept of space i can never fill it

too many stars in the night sky for children
in the suburbs i ask them not to live for me and unblinking
i watch as the stars leave sorry city homes
winking from the night exhalations

my hands my hands are feet long toes
their soles are not tough for gravel walking
i am country boy whose hair tassels enough
like corn in the cool summer sun i am never picked

feel the circles in my chest they are lungs
deep cellophane purses where i keep my change
when i am tough for a drink i don’t drink

i have nothing i have nothing
deep indentations beneath my fingernails
say i have wintered the sharp snowy roads
they curve like my hips never will into ditches

i don’t exist in my own mind there is a cavern
an underground lake to be trickling through
there’s no goddamn water only stale caked air that clings
to my skull like raspberries crushed to a paste!!

11/16/2006

Author's Note: Edited December 5th

Posted on 11/17/2006
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