Evidence Collecting

I am collecting evidence
for what I cannot say, for
what cannot become

dragged into words
and displayed half-generated
found around a can of worms

a can of
something to say


I’m working to tell you
this thing
discovered in the flesh

a barrel of people
a piece of golden stress

undocumented by the
eyes who plucked it awry

if only if


supper will occur
not so long from now

which I hope you’ll attend
if not
it’s okay by a heck-of-a-spot

that would’ve been you

too late


rain has hung
dazzled in the
possibility too long

people run
towards it

for the taste of
good water—

grace of it—
an amusing shelter which
no one can

accurately laugh, as it
income down

its mouse-throat
and spits
cars at the parade of
quack jabbing lemons


there is no telling
if this will ever come to an end
except it will, it’s only

when such a possibility
held behind a perception

dirt in not seeing
pliers in the socket
of a spoon exfoliating wires

pulled one at a time
until hair

snapped off
here in a palm of glass shards

people and confessions’


I didn’t mean to scare you
but the day has come indeed
for the people
who run a mountain
in their highway-cars of reason
must find an emotion tucked beneath the seat

are the seams too tight
taught to become obliged, faceless
amongst a million wrinkles, magazine
covers have none, or

there is always
twitching in the mirror, the one

no one sees
the one

built for the internet


as all and each and
every and one

there are
course and caught
and untucked
beside the port-form

water and
gashed for

he’ll arrive soon
searching for hearing aids


we lost time in a tragic
spaced out monetary blip count
down when

would’ve because should’ve
expecting grit
teeth melt between almond-sesame

door opens birds chirp
death to all religion
without violence

does the daisy spin
little did a spider know
it was not

a museum


the magic in the music of the movie you’re watching


doesn’t risk much but annoyance
from the outfit beneath orchestrated hearing

trials can’t blur
everyone on the sidelines
played displayed fair play continue on

watch a mallet

all clicks to pocket



I understand you’re hungry
for something money can’t buy

why pretend

own up to the thing
that has no owner just yet

neglected weighs
the side of a street

in the brain and
where to meet a window

when it could possibly
tell a teller what

a teller needs in
order to help

order in the percent
sign of try





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