sorting out these
delicate odds
i know the intricacies
of this shadow awareness
and late words
are better off dispelled
by the morning fog
of ugly reason

verbal slave
so much of this
is a foreign performance
killing precious hours
with knives of uncertainty
no encore,
nothing but a tv glow
hello
can you hear me?

lazy i burn
in eastern concern
regulating a postmodern
downturn
force-fed soft facts
in the wreckage of consequence
goddamn these creeping poems
naked and scraping
madness and temporary creativity
are forcing me to reveal
a roaming alternative
to this repeating ritual
of self preservation