Being there

Being there


The clouds keep leaking
There’s a hot dog willing
its owner on reeling
around around the park
The sun never leaves that spot
between day and night

We are always eating picnics
sneezing at the greed
of seagulls shrieking
There’s a man
sweeping streets sweeping
in front of him
leaves keep gathering behind

There’s
a youngish woman
alone
only looking
She’s really
not that sad
not really

There’s a monitor continually
freezing Everybody’s always leaving
seeking something better their
mobile phones keep beeping We

The storm waits.

The storm waits.
The storm, attraction
rough and precise, waits.
The storm, heavy in the air
longs release; for now
it waits. The storm
is nothing, really, just     
words falling
in chancy space, awkwardly
aligned weights. The
storm is, perhaps, reality
somewhere, sometime, being
beyond this attraction,
this precision, yet
for the moment
this mass of clouds, mass
of charge, this exact
indeterminate, spatial, temporal node
flinging furies syntactically apart

waits.

.

among among among among among
among all this crap on the floor
among Cialis online_degrees L0nelyWife OnCam
this used to be hard to say

among vodka gin beer scotch bacardi 151
among dope e go-ey paint special k
among fucks in parks toilets housing commission floors
why isn’t this hard to say?

among flowers falling
among them falling
among falling
where do they land

among…

among poems wrapping round necks
among rolling balls of eyes
to find myself among paper
only wish it were…