Visa

there are twenty seven ways out of this mess,
only twelve of which that matter,
the other option is to sit idly,
and wait.

davey

The ship's captain has lived in a centrifuge of raw dumbness till the age of 25.
He has no concept of driftwood, of Jones, of sweltered talons scathing the surface of water, that raw & blithe cry.
Only opium,
that massive thawing of the red orbs he reflects back into the sea.

The ship's captain
accelerates through a dune of sweat, a
tin of tobacco spilling onto his lap.

i've been rummaging,
through waves & shelves,
laundry baskets with wrinkled clothes

rummaging in the caked earth,
indifferent to the recent downpour


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i used to go fishing with my dad when i was younger
when he had the rusty shit box of a Subaru,
(where the red paint would flake)

i used to play in backseat,
stuffy and bogged down,
next to line and wire and poles
the sun hasn't been out like that since

*****************************

i've been writing, and rewriting, and submitting
like gunpowder,
maybe as temporary as it's flash

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i have a final today,
some where in it,
the words implicit, three, and bull
will show up