The paper lives
We take it seriously
Or not
The sticks we sit on
In in waiting room
Wet leaves
Beneath our
Hospital beds
The art work drips
From the side of the staircase
Keep us from falling out
We decorate with rocks
And native grasses
The dog smells the day
From the back steps
The millions of coffee mugs
Not properly washed
When the work creates
Dirty dishes serve many purposes
We wasted so much time
Fearing the unknowable
Stare into the eyes
See what will take you places
Crave new voices
Face the monsters
responsible For all the good music.
Hang out in the backstage
My paper shoes
are ripped
Feel the mud
Between my toes
Pointless are
The straps on my pack
empty buildings
heated and lit all night.
Hurting people I don’t know
It takes days to recover
From your visits.
I wear neon
To avoid
Being hit by cars.
In nature
Nothing is equal
Whistling helps fill
The empty space
The trains that fuel the trains
A safe place to jump
A warm place near
The tracks
Beef Jerky Clouds 