The Filter is Off

This is the start of my five handed words
restless breath notes,
repress again,

Causey where have you gone?

I release the frustration core of nimbus.

Oh half moon, Oh new,
the only new where you where
nothing now stands.

I can’t. I won’t
Bring around the turntable
spinning salt in all directions.


Sighs site up matter not.
Rotating whistle canopy cream.

Forsaken Moses man
can’t part the waters,
not this time.

In genocide a spring rises.


Smokers like pigeon on the sidewalk fronts.

A hand rises
Pigeons wait, butts or food.

The smoke rises like a call,
a signal to the waiting.

“Come for me
For I have found food, fire, shelter.”
The mess age says.

How I used to filter the the the
things I’ve said.
Now all comes spilling through teeth.

The holes in the woodwork,
cannot contain
clogs the drain.

“Turn me loose.”
“Let me un-burden you.”

Turn the degrees towards silence speaking.


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