The Body Ends; The Spirit Leaves (+ hour 7)

The body ends; the spirit leaves
My love will never fade
The mountains fall; the wells recede
My fountain will prevail

12 PM
The joys of the day
I skip from the curb
The maple leaf on my heals
I can feel my spirit fly
Maybe if I jump enough
I'll simply float away
If the sky won't hold me up
It'll surely keep my footing
Orange and red and brown
Against the blue and me
Overlooks my path
And covers up my black

Runny Mathematics (+ hours 5 & 6)

Runny mathematics
Bleeds and bleeds
Water trickles
Tickles; it's kinda funny

10 AM
The last of sounding thunder
Distance closes my umbrella
Morning spreads my arms
As if to part the clouds
Pebbles spot the pavement
Chips of concrete underfoot
Mixed the wet with rubber
And the subtle slip
I run my shadow fingers
Over blades of grass
Through the shade of fences
And the cliffs of cracks

11 AM
Settle down these stairs
I huddle up the rail
Catch a gasp of autumn
As I come up for air
A simple-minded recess
To dine with passing scholars
Left and right they go
Some pause at me and wonder
No joy to eat alone
At least no less to sleep
I comfort lonesome softly
With fluffy chocolate sweets

Boulevard

I raise my ice pick in the morning of the seventh day
She coerces my tinted glass
It's 6 o'clock AM
The delicate dance of man and winter
All my horses and shiny buttons
Strapped and warm for the journey ahead
Satchel in hand; highway ahead
This will be a day to remember

I unstrap myself; arrived alive
Heavy-burdened breathing
My heart is pounding like Wall Street
I avoid the awkward steps
Down the darkened corridors
Ducking paper mâché and déjà vu
I, yet again, am a stranger in a foreign land
No answer, and my thumbs are out of ink

Where do market streets look the same?
Crowded, littered, and plastered white
All I want is the messenger man
Send for her in the courtyard
I'm on my way
The minstrels comment my attire
She inquires my official title
Nothing never mattered even then

My stagecoach is freezing
The wheels are cracked and bruised
We embraced on the boulevard
Where our car slowed to a stop
My nose is getting cold
It nuzzles in your cheek
It's 9 o'clock PM
What a wonderful day this has been

The Birth of Ideas (+ hours 3 & 4)

The birth of ideas
Big ones, as it were
"Love", faulty condoms,
And the birth of an infant

8 AM
Breath, a panic breath
Misplaced ejaculation
Weathered stipulation
Of whether I'm awake
Blame, my tattered blame
A life I'd long forgotten
She came to haunt my nightmares
And resurrect my shame
Over, bubbled over
Like waves on freezing shores
Pornographic reruns
Like scratching swollen sores

9 AM
Heavy eyes, blinking clocks
Power's out, no one's home
How the minutes slowly turn
And seem like much to long
Rain pelts through my window
Soft to wet my feet
Through my sophomore sheets
To bedbugs down below
I don't mind the Dresden drizzle
Or the London fog
Not even sleepy bags, but
I really need to pee