Exposure

Cheap strippers might bare it all for a few bucks,
but we’re artists here–
we’ll do it for the mere exposure.

When empty hands talk
up their “great exposure”
they knock our covers off
and bring us to their feet,
because we know they know we think
to be more seen must be a good thing.

So turn up the exposure:
show your soul and your skin and any dark place in between–
you wouldn’t be here if you weren’t desperate be seen.

Shed another layer, shed another light, shed another tear or more,
until you’re washed out in bright lights
from overexposure.

A poem about when the N train is stopped and R rolls in across the platform (and other stuff)

When you’re stuck at the station
struggling to be patient
with the endlessly-stalling
train which is calling
itself “express,”
is it time to guess
that you’ll cover more ground
with one that’s forward-bound
at any rate?
Or better to wait?

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Kill Time.

I’m just here to kill time, I say,
So just kill time with me.
Help me strangle it before it strangles us.
We need to stop its ticking pulse,
So we can play off the beat.

There were futures, but I said kill time with me now.
We’ll twist up its forward and back.
It won’t be easy, but when we’ve made it,
We’ll feel its grip grow limp, its gaze grow vacant,
Its march stumble to stop in the path.

I wanna kill time with you,
And bury it deep in the sand.
They might dig up the fossils one day, I guess,
And think up who did it, they’ll know, more or less,
But we’ve got timeless space ’til then.

So why not murder time together?

Reflections on a New Breakfast Order

You think it’s funny how in the middle of everything, you could have nothing;
How everything embraces nothing,
Or maybe just ropes it in.

But you cut the drama, because you well know that’s not really everything,
And this isn’t really nothing either,
Just different shades of something
Toasted with cream cheese.

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Real World

“Do you know why the sky is blue?” he asked.

“But it’s not just blue,” I said. “It’s a lot of other colors too, if you look long enough.
It spends just as much time in black,
Sometimes with silver freckles sprinkled in.
And in the in-betweens, it phases through strips of yellow/orange/red/pink;
Phases as fleeting as they are eternal.
I’ve heard in some places, it waves electric ribbons of green and purple,
But right now and here, its rather gray with the overcast.
And I’m sure you’ve seen it too,
But you already made up your mind that the blue sky is truer than the rest.”

“You’re not answering the question,” he said.

So I talked about scattering frequencies and passed the test.

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Spectral Illusions

I’m finding it hard to see more than a few feet ahead,
But I have a feeling that the people who claim to see rainbows and butterflies out there are just hallucinating,
Because they never claimed to see squirmy caterpillars and rain.

They never mentioned squirmy caterpillars piling up on the sidewalks in the downpour
For a chance to escape drowning in the drenched earth
With a chance to evade sneakers and bike tires
The chance to fly too wispy and distant to imagine.