urbansonnets

We are upon a transition today;
that is, if you want change, or time to dream
while waking; my bones are aching to say:
"Life's a dream and even dreams unseem":
The unseemly, uncanny seam between
the worth of touch or feel and of reply–
Well, that is where I had my deepest dream,
as I slept in that lake o'er which you fly:
I slept peacefully, like in a garden,
my pilgrimage to Lala, land of cats
that purr in unison; You, denizen
of this pristine verger, open your wings,
and I try to fly, but can only mope,
till I wake to brunch with dewey eyed hope.

The day I was born was full of movement,
and I'm still sliding today, from the left-
hand side; and every breath is a moment,
till I've no more spirit and no breath left:
If you were to tell me, "Movement's your muse,"
I'd say, "But I stay inside all the day,"
and you'd go: "Move. You've got nothing to lose,"
and I'd say, "You're right; please take me away."
"From what?" – "Well, static places where hearts rot
away; from vicious wells poisoned with bile,
the stagnant fluids of what we were not
placed here to spit out, much less to conceal:
So I sit and move-can't stick to the script,
since I sense a new something, my script's flipped."

There is a chink in my chain mail breastplate
that I slay night-slippers just to scratch at,
because I love danger: check or checkmate,
and I'll overturn the board to patch that:
slit with insane swagger and confidence,
which is not the same as reinforcement;
the fissure remains and incompetence
saves my life and twists where my true course went:
I mean, the path, the prose, the road, the rhyme
along which I'm wending, rent by daggers
in the heart that make signposts that mark time
and distance the step from how he staggers:
I mean me: I'm so open to shifting,
as we saunter the rate is uplifting.

I pounced on the pavement and chipped a tooth,

Hours to turn your life into magic,
to animate ashes into passes,
and islands into archipelagic
clusters: fingers that massage the masses:
From a spot of isolation I come
so communal–my turbulence the waves
that rock your babe to sleep, as you become
all that you want to be, all that time craves:
Just look from your landing, and you'll see me
on that isle–no, on that one over there:
the skinny one with no real history
of settlement until I settled there:
That's the life of a loner, I suppose:
One hop, skip, or a dream, and there he goes!

Evaluative precepts don't conform us;
we reshape ourselves for them, as the world
springs more complex / we put up a fuss
and eschew mystery for paths unfurled
by the hand of the Law; on greenish rugs
we run–ran, trod on–by expectation:
they'll be secretaries, we'll be some thugs,
building Law with love, with self-destruction:
Relatively. I am so damn prescient
sometimes, it just makes my eyes just pop out,
and I clutch them tight to keep them present,
as I experience a new lapse, shout:
THERE IS NO PLACE LIKE HOME / NO PLACE LIKE HERE
MAKE YOUR OWN RULES AND YOU'RE ALREADY THERE.