SHOOT SASS & TWIST ONE UP

Slicing it up

for response, there is so much spitting

in the eye with these

brief missives.          I want more

wringing out.

                     Depiction of action

                     not the actual

           elimination or reduction

less winging off

a page in the ugly dark

like its coming

between you and sleep

Pull another 

day and don’t

blink 

when a sun sings in through, like night’s wrecking

ball. 

                     In the building’s

                     upper floors, vined in above 

                     the walking, remembering too,

                     a tea, glazed glass

                     binoculars and the leaves

                     a new clarity on the prehistoric fronds

                     an infinity of green ovals lit 

by the breezes. My eye reads 

the scratches on the lenses

like an old PlayStation game and if I applied

lotion like that, could it somehow be

buffed

to sheen? Could the irreverence be eschewed

like a prayer but point them out

instead of skyward. Phone, fax, email

or text your requests, just as you would 

cordon up the dough. None 

of this amounts to anything more
than a little reality 

television. You’ve got this, tiger.