I Poured the Bran

I poured the Bran
I sat on my hands,
I hummed.
 
and I saw that face
from my window
before she was lost in dust
in the plastic keys
on a piano
or on a computer
 
equally futile
akin to crabs scuttling from reach
 
I scuttled too
so did you and he and she
 
all scuttling towards or away from…
it’s hard to tell
 
Through every box I fell into
jingled soft sappy Christmas carols
 
I was lost to it
really
I was lost in the box in which I came
I want to come
I never came
this week nothing arrived
 
No letters thorough the slot
just a waving shadow on the stairwell
 
Just as the foam sat in its bag
I fell sexless I stayed
 
until the microwave beeped
Then I got up
opened a cupboard
opened a door
opened my locked screen
 
faces all but gone
implied only in blue bubbles
pixellated chatter
 
I meant to write 30
but I only wrote 3
 
And I forgot to reply to that email
or tidy my room
filled with presents given or waiting to be given
bags boxes bags boxes bags
 
non-fiction 3 ams
staring into the carpet
with videos of more accomplished people
 
and that’s precisely it
– I want to dive into the warmest colour of myself
but I think I’ve already drowned in the greys around the edge
 
Shoes, pockets, mouths
all filled with pebbles
 
Something needs to be ravished
some building needs to be set alight
banality burnt down in wild, frenzied lines
 
We don’t need that sun in the sky
we need that sun in our eyes

Six o’clock and I’m sitting upright


April 1st April 4th April 7th, 18th, 25th
blank upper-space A4
Pound, occupation: Modernist, why?

3 hours for self-improvement 101
it’s all you could find
looking at the clock to write the numbers on your hand
from the get up, the get go:
information leak 0.25, 0.5, 0.75

praxis, parallelograms, politically, philologically
fixated frustrated frowns –
Forward it through, friend.
Friend?
For what, for life? for coffee?

you’ll have to wait, then
this won’t be finished until oh, Your application has been received, tick
? Yes, oh, yes, uh
skinny flat white no sugar please
$3.40, $3.80, $3….
and what are they, those slices of – could you tell me -? Never mind

Running late, meet me on the corner
behind building 9 no building 10 no
Skip that, today is rehearsal week 5
1.2.8.

Wait,
I
missed it