pensivekeys-blog

[pensivekeys-blog]

Antelope

Sitting in a grass field

The antelope

With his black horns

And his white stripes

Around his eyes

Watches, alone,

As the cars ride along the highway

[pensivekeys-blog]

i lie to my friends

Around the lawns Circles and then lines Around and around Cutting the greens.

Around the house Circles and then lines Eating sometimes Pretending to sleep.

Around the town Circles and then lines Driving alone .

[pensivekeys-blog]

Bees are dying at an alarming rate

Welcome back says the keyboard

Tip tap tapping away the things that

Other pangs can’t lay their mark on

Swarming with singular thought

A thousand stingers under my skin

Put some aloe vera on the burn you

Fucking pussy.

You’re not even allergic to bees

And its not like you’ve never been stung before

Shake that shit off

Scrape the stinger, don’t pinch it.

The sting’s gonna burn, what did you expect?

To step in the nest sans consequences?

To pace that trail again with the scent of their

Spiky, organ encased, weapons of mass destruction

Hanging off your skin like fucking Christmas lights?

Nah you’re too smart for that shit.

I’m not even angry with the bees. The bees only know

What they know - to sting and defend and bite and hum

And hiss and look pretty. They’re an endangered species.

Meanwhile I’ll pull stinger seven out of my swollen fucking leg,

Or number nine out of the back of my palm and

Wonder why I went back by the nest in the first place.

[pensivekeys-blog]

The moment, living in brief flashes of happiness. Life in a frame by frame, a strange combination of content and yearning, Reaching, to turn happy nights into days of adventures. There is more to come, afternoons, mornings, a journey with no destination.

[pensivekeys-blog]

There’s a light

Dripping

Down

from the top of the sewer.

Twinkling and dancing

with its reflection in the water,

twisting and swaying above

the damp darkness.

[pensivekeys-blog]

sunrise

The phone erupts but there is peace here. The earliest streaks of gold shine through the shades. Alone with the world Before sirens and struggles take shape. Awake, Shifting, listening lovingly to the silence.

[pensivekeys-blog]

I had forgotten what heartbreak is

Staring out car windows and going back through my thoughts for the ninth time

The thought of falling in love again is hanging from a tree

It’s like broken bones they heal back stronger and leave spots around it weaker

Are these thoughts of broken hearts or broken legs?

Muscle folding like my tibia did under the weight of being alone

Writing on unfolded paper planes that still have creases

Wearing a tattered shirt with a patch but the stitching’s the wrong color

Looking at the sun set or rise will always bring that back now won’t it?

Laughing and crying next to the blue waves that laugh and cry with me

Picking up the rock I tripped on and moving it out of the way

[pensivekeys-blog]

for me

I hate mirrors.

I look and see

twisted misrepresentations and dilapidated,

featureless

skin stretched over my father’s cheekbones.

A fiendish red beak rimmed with bile and flesh

protrudes from flatness.

No eyes, just black beads with pure infinite light,

speckled

in the center, showing soul.

With it i speak little,

only to whisper of its scarred

stomach, lined with saggy meat and tendrils of

torn

skin dangling from hellish causation.

I avoid the pinprick light with

supreme and all encompassing fear

out of necessity.

Shame

prevents reason.

I see you in the eyes,

staring back through silver screens of

truth-telling

without regard for personal predisposition.

I talk to you,

reflected in glass panes

rippling water

car windows

black phone displays

shadows in dreams

[pensivekeys-blog]

eye contact with a front-facing camera

There is nothing to say but fuck you to the sullen plateau, where seeds fly to decompose in bile and bacteria before fading.

Sound muted, the cloudless sky shines no star, stagnant. Simple, morose serenity. Here life slumbers.

[pensivekeys-blog]

Nothing

I hate the feeling.

Brittle bones and sun-dried tomatoes,

listless yellow drapes hanging

over cracked windows, stained,

dead as winter without snow.

A remote out of batteries.

I don’t understand it.

It’s purple to my white.

Sleeplessness used to center on thoughts,

now it’s just there;

taunting, grinning, haunting.

A monster under the bed.

[pensivekeys-blog]

Knitted

Cross over

Wrap around the needle

Stitch after stitch stitching

A nice warm sweater

In this warm summer weather

Most of the year it's pretty

Cold outside

[pensivekeys-blog]

Pensive Keys

When rain runs rampant down Car windows and electric poles, Boys sit pushing pensive keys.

Hang another little tree on the rear view. Scent bomb the residue. Window wipe, sit, muse.

[pensivekeys-blog]

melatonin

Dreams start as sun-kissed skies,

At least, mine do.

There's a timelessness, as late August days

From late childhood summer vacations had.

They never end.

They fade, faces in the corners of dark rooms

Blurred, out of focus,

Shimmering as asphalt under heat does.

Dreams bleed together.

Discerning them is impossible.

Dreams are the unknowing, unwoken.

[pensivekeys-blog]

Late night decaf

The warm touch of brown liquid

melts the coldness of black night.

Thoughts flick by, fizzling like the gas lamp

and the flies that zip around them.

I pluck one out, a single note from the string

of memory’s greatest instrument,

waving, weaving, singing

a blue song, a purple tone.

Agitating sleeplessness is like

moving up the frets

to higher

frequencies

and frenzied

fanaticism.

Callousing fingers

and dreams with

steel strings.