aliens have lived amongst us since roswell. treaty with us, but general population doesn’t know. fear of wide spread panic, racism, etc. aliens have to be registered. 2010, extremist faction want to disrupt. liason to bureau of alien investigations, nyc homicide detective team up to stop plot.

dont i know you from somewhere? didn’t i know you? dont i know you? should i? it’s bothering me, this recognition, like filament stuck between the tooth anf gum. it’s annoying and hurtful and vitaly important to figure out.
did i know you from before? when the skies ran from orange to purple and the breezes of the night carried tunes from the raging 20’s? did i know you from then?

like magic man, i make it like magic, i spin spaghetti out of membranes and cotton candy from spinal taps and check it out jack, check out the vicious way i slide between the here and how and you all fall apart like dust bunnies caught up in the broom of my vehemence.
the broom of my vehemence, like an angry maid on adderall.

three fourths finished a lifetime ago and petals like icicles gouged in the eyes and all i see are pretty oranges bursting between the teeth and nothing gets stuck in the vein, nothing gets jammed up, we all flow, the blood flow, no traffic here onto the curb, even our intestines slide into the sewers like fat on a buttered skillet.

man told, perpetually, “you have 3 days to live.”
the first time, he blows it with his wife, his family, makes no plans, just grieves-
but he does not die yet: he’s told, “you have 3 days to live.”

We move. In and out of each other’s lives. In and out of our own life. Lose focus, stumble. Here again and the pressure. To stay still. To keep moving. I am always moving in and out spaces impossible to keep still impossible to slip through. Always too much to say in too little a time and a part of me screams to never say anything at all.

Of this, we dream, over and over. Some
Imagination, the wounding of scars, lilies pried open and sand
For nectar
Over and over, mechanical loop
Of soft tissue and gears
Bloody wire and the aching of teeth, as if
Swelling the tongue brings a measure easily
Defined and succinct
As is praying, over and over
Makes it true
And licks it all clean

Anxious and excited, she told us her tooth was loose. Over and over to the hallway mirror, checking on it. I’m sure she kept pressing her tongue against it, absentmindedly and often, the way we all do with the gaps.
And then the next day, popped right out of her mouth at the arcade.
We left her a coin from the other side of the world under her pillow.
My little girl, I can’t stop you while you forge on ahead. Can I at least hold your hand?

I have no poetry, ach my love how can I explain. I have only chattering and faceless voices that tune in and out from somewhere very far until they rush upon me and all the world is made of glass and skittering I try to capture it or them. Or I used to.

we found it all quite remarkable, the brokenness of him, the spittle and the remorse, the mockery of all that he was, the stain of his children, the wounds of his wife. he sits on the porch and writes and abuses himself. he is all abuse. little kindness left, selfish mongrel. and the air he breathes, cool and dry in the midst of a full blown summer, reminds him of a time where he was alive and she was alive and their days were long and they had their future ahead of them and he was pure and uneventful.
but instead, instead, instead.