beep beep

i am just sitting waiting for breaking bad to finish downloading-
it's the first day of sun, the wind is probing at the fingers
of some spiny plant beside me, i can hear its rustle over
thelonious.

he is playing tempo jazz, keying little moods
furlongs of nothing in a mountain,
outside of room; space adjacent; greyer than
could be's.

it's cool, i am wrapped in letters, waiting for the
sun to whisper away,
go inside-

the weather's out. warping birds, tall tree
the ivory on my feet is sock fur, the beats
all matter, beats breathe, they...linger.

same as fish song- open carats, sparkles of sharpness
a box with plenty of sides,
knives all arrayed in blood type,

i am the same as writing, the less, the less led
to slow-cooking. braised on
kernels of almonds, watching the witch
masturbate to the frozen swirls
on the cut.

i am.o.no.you.are.
two tins on one string, i call
you listening:

   there's threnody here,
   u be quiet
   i aint done

   to be dead while
   been list
    ening
  the whale out

the fridge, beep,
beckoning.