go inside the bluest blood, come back kid.

say to me that newness exists
that you forget the formula
for haiku, and your stories remind
you of me. say that somewhere
it still matters which color
underwear i might choose for
today, which i am still awake in
blushing before bed...time to
remember how to land again...
damn.

set a setting and recombine, sometimes it's just what arises, and then what you miss and what continues to vex you, perplex you, after all you've analyzed; what lasts to put you solidly in your place. which place is where? well certainly limned in the minds of this degenerative generation, location is now "cloud"ed, where rain comes from to ruin barns and fuel corn and soy extravaganzas. upside is tonight down shown...