granular lethargy

here swaying
the lilt of steel
push of the pusher
pumping amps
bottled fire
ringing in the
cotton pocket
tin lifter lid tapping

If I were thirsty I would lap
the lair of rain
mincing like birds on
the rusted monarchy
above

this hove too lean too
hovel

cardboard on one window
like a blinded cat
the tired swing on the porch
with a sagging back

there are jade hills full of
dusted knowledge
and blue burgundy
bourgoisie who woosh
through the state

but I'm holding back on my
hand
keeping the cards stale
like a drawer forgotten
the candy box withered
at the ages like the prize
fighter thrown to the wolves

I ache for no longing
for I am no longer
I am the inner tube
of delivery fasting

ocillating for the wishing
star
so far above
beyond my look

like salted dreams
in winters berm
halted in the rift
cracks
like chapters of pages
piled rotten to the rafters

I am flying turning
wheeling
under lamp black nights
staring far on velvet blue
oversteering

I am the donut burnouot
that wakes you in the middle
of your dream

I am
anything