my desk

my desk, at 2 am
littered with mugs and business cards
derelict lighters that
have no business purporting to be of assistance when
you most need assistance
and another set of receipts
that neither step up
or stitch
the holes up


and when will

the dainty lilts match with my approximation
of being fooled and
hearing all of this accurately
or hearing it all.
cut the neck out, cut the sleeves
off
and make room for the breath
i so desperately

aspire to breathing.

and from the depths , and their compression
of idyllic
approximations of
scale and rhyme

understand that i
am a fool

and that is what we breathe when we speak
waiting for the
stops
step step and recoil

step step and stitch the holes
in between
these fabricated
workings of a whole lot of
runs to
uncertainty

when we work so hard
only to see
that she's always been the
work i need to carry
on and carry
regardless of a name
and

being a fool.
stitched and worn but
blameless in
my endless dancing



a time and a place
a rhyme and a memory of oh such
a beautiful
face


foolish as i may
purport to be



i'll always be a fool
always and forever
happily