I could be a penguin bird
in love with a girl

the great Leroy Jenkins
and people fucking in the next room

eating fish
right hand left hand ed

Islamic violin.

I could be a bird with wings
sing song broken as well

and everyone would be happy then
except me

I’d dance and everything
still. but she’d be never again.

maybe a worthy silence.

I could be Leroy Jenkins. maybe.
India navigation 1979.

the whole world changing around me.
people in asia. sleeping.

airplanes wind mills
people speaking dutch with chopsticks.

I double lock my room.

thirtyusdollars thirtyusdollars.
a day. and I’m still hungry.

in love with a girl.
somewhere.

I could violin my ipod earphone.
waiting for a text to say.

all is forgiven.

(or:
all is well and goodnight).

and this is what happens when you have to pick a favorite arm








a favorite toe
or a favorite breath



then winter comes
again



and all the good you’ve done
just laughs at your failed attempts



to make everything feel okay




you say good things
and fold hands
and whisper blessings
and hope and hope



but do
only in books
only in sleep
only in little wooden puzzles
from Indian craft shops

and everything else is just what it is




what it’s always been

what it’s always been?


build a boat for me
who-ever-you-are




and I am a window



blue.