end

eventually     it will take only
a minute        for the world to end
I look at        my little cat’s fangs
and imagine

duration     is what’s inside me
how I am like a cabbage garden
but different       from the rest
from you

eventually          a world will end
like little cat fangs      (it will be a minute)
counting down        until everything is real
simply because it is       no more

because of was

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Guessed It All Along

I have this interstellar feeling,
I keep having this outer
space feeling, this awful
feeling, that when we get
to the end of the universe
by extragalactic probe or whatever,
some futuristic beam,
we will find another
universe begins there
like another dream,
and there will be this fence,
this ancient fence,
with a sign that refers
to us, to all of us,
and the sign will read
“QUARANTINE.”
And the worst part
will be, the absolute
worst of it will be
that we’ll feel no need,
no earthly need
to wonder or ask
why.

The Sticks

The need to dust the words.          To explain and draw.
A book titled How Do Birds Know How to Build a Nest?
A dental appointment.    You forgot it.    Maybe your teeth

were supposed to remember.     The film you want.
Is Full Superia 400.   You think maybe these train cars are disjointed
thoughts like a missed dental appointment in meth and its aftermath.

I guess.    That makes this poem by default.    The bank is coming, mad.

Infinite regress regret like a highway.       A really deserted
piece of ass backseat leopard stretch of highway.      It glows green at night.
Over the giant fiberglass ice cream cone that lights up.    After everyone leaves.

And where a U.F.O.       Only ever.     Came again once.    Looking for you.

The Green Park

The space from zero to one is finite.
This is one unit. The space from zero to one
is infinite. There are these irrational intrusions,
something like thoughts, that go on forever.
The space from zero to one is no different
than any other space termed span.
The truth is that space is always opening like a hand.
We have only this conceit of span. If you look at a landscape
enough years, much longer than you possibly can,
you would see that green park elongating and rarefying
to a thing we’d sooner call a space than span.
Just think. All of that emptiness was already in it,
when you saw a child get on one of those swings
and pump her legs until she was nothing but joy
surrounded by stars and a funny darkness so loose
it could be anything or anyone at all.