The paper lives 

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

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My paper shoes are ripped


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