affordable

outside the reason
        of writing
is an escape
into poetry,
the continuum
of words joined
        without grammatical
        consistencies,
the jarring affect
of forgetting to make sense,

i sit
in this tiny chair,
force words to combine,
allow space & location,

& you,

the vagrant on looker,
never even had a chance,

it's this,
this ending
that only makes
it affordable

indirected questions

there are
other reason,

pointed
within,

interacted
properties

that propel,
in inverted

propositions,
as spiral

to force &
opposition,

in eyes, or centre
to the indices,

closing in directories,
crouching on meaning

fall (the scent of summer

there is dust on the typewriter,
scattered letters & no coherent
words, the dog lays a little to the
left & outside the sun speaks to
fallen leaves, to say as much
as a decent goodbye, frost &
bugs that live in the bark of
a half fallen tree cling to the last
scent of summer, a spider crawls
down the street on two legs & as
the rain begins to fall, windows
leave marks on the floor & a carton
of milk stands two weeks old

the stories of: (Fred

the picture of a girl-like doll
hangs to his right, white
shirt & strong beer,

cataract eyes wet the
world with stories about
life just barely lived,

hands fold right over left,
birds chirp & stories
continue,

he rubs eyebrows in recollection,
words mix with the
static of tv,

dusty thoughts leach & the
conversation leads to another
moment almost forgot,

he knows the time pattern of
errant cars, the sound of
rusty engines,

time dictates a knowledge of
history, a sanctuary in the
way he holds his chin,

& this is when sports & history
collide, where rivers of fish talk
about the catch,

he remembers the ammo dumps
after the war, the cost to
fish, tragedy & high seas,

chemical warfare, the front step,
return from war, old joe, more ammo
& bedford on fire,

the conversation slows, tv, hollywood,
nothing important, yet we look,
confused,

but maybe it’s about youth,
the future of ideas, something
in remembrance,

i talk about frogs & turtles, maybe
the size of trees, the rabbit at
our feet,

talk ends, stories slow,
i sit across & he looks into
eyes, remembering