I don’t think
Everyday is a poem
Not at all
Not in my experience
I think
It is a matter
Of access

For beauty
And mystery
And meaning
Must at least
Be held
In the mind’s eye
To some degree

And some days
Miserable days
Close the roads
Close the roads
And lock the gates
Lock the gates
And build a moat

So
There’s a french fry under my desk
Funny thing is
I’ve never eaten a meal in my office
I eat out
Or in the cafeteria
While they have served fries
From time to time
They serve those thick crinkle fries
The one under my desk
Is long and skinny
So
What’s new with you

When you pull away the dome
And I see past the glass
As you see, see and know
Damn it! I trust you.

It’s not your smoke. It’s mine.
It’s not your cloak. It’s mine.
It’s not your shield. It’s mine.
It’s not your veil. It’s mine.

When you pull away the dome
And I see past the glass
As you see, see and know
Damn it! I trust you.

Can you find beauty in the bootless
Can you find posture in the prick
Can you note solace in the abject
Can you note rhythm in the mist

No. Probably not
Cause Tabitha reeks of purple
And you need purple
And you will have purple

Can you find person in the avail
Can you find humble in the thick
Can you note pleasure in the daylight
Can you note respite in the lisp

No. Probably not
Cause Tabitha reeks of purple
And you need purple
And you will have purple

And tomorrow you won’t like this
You will say it is further proof
Of something you’ve not liked about me all along

And I’m prepared for it really
‘Cause you have a sure-fire way
Of mocking the dragon flies on my insect board

I’ve made a vow
That I should have made long ago
Arms-length
Arms-length
Arms-length

I’ve made a vow
I shot the early adopter
Arms-length
Arms-length
Arms-length

I’ve made a vow
Give ’em what they want and quickly
Arms-length
Arms-length
Arms-length

I’ve made a vow
Hardly know their name or their face
Arms-length
Arms-length
Arms-length

I’ve made a vow
Though it will kill me to keep it
Arms-length
Arms-length
Arms-length

I’ve made a vow
They thrive on not being noticed
Arms-length
Arms-length
Arms-length

It’s all sacred
Tell the reacher
It’s all sacred
Tell the thinker
It’s all sacred
Tell the worker bee
It’s all sacred
But don’t spit on me

It’s all sacred
Tell the mender
It’s all sacred
Tell the server
It’s all sacred
Tell the kitchen team
But don’t spit on me

Don’t you dare
Spit on me

Introducing
What you’ve wanted all along
No bow
No paper
Just endless happiness

Introducing
Just a little bit of this
A bite
Just enough
Just endless emptiness

Introducing
A lil curtsy and a dip
No warmth
Anymore
Just endless endlessness

I won’t giggle
At your pictures
Cause you won’t giggle
At my change
A whole week
Tied to an anchor
Down down and quite alone
With your notebook full
With your notebook full

I won’t scuttle
‘Round you ever
Cause you won’t scuttle
Never have
Consistent
Hopeless and tethered
Hopeless and haughty
With your notebook full
With your notebook full

I thought mercy
Was your motor
But you’ve no mercy
For less thans
For has beens
You just stay silent
Silent with a list
With your notebook full
With your notebook full

All have bad days
Isn’t that right
So you’ve had bad days
That linger
And drown you
You didn’t mean it
Just had to say it
With your notebook full
With your notebook full

Your hubris
Is as wicked
As a devil’s snare
A concrete weapon wall
Of pismire flare
And it wasn’t
The greasy pole basilica
Or the flawed
And meager
God of the harvest
But a harmattan
Of girlish adaptations
So, lap along little lassies
Lap along
Yes, lap along little lassies
Lap along