my arms 

are eagles

the shift

is an air pot

the shelf 

is covered in our noise

we can envision

an eagle

stuck to the sidewalk

with cement

it is disgusting

our images

are our

images

i am hitting

this piñata

with a live snake

the christmas lantern

is broken

all of the paintings he left

are garlands of pain

if we 

can figure the future

i bet

i will

start betting

on the fast food

industry

can we

articulate anything

when the heart

of our need

is in 

trying to change

hardcore

i remember

nothing

about how

things were

i remember everything

about how

i felt 

about how things

were

would like to

get a beer

with a good friend

outside 

but not near

where cars drive

i would like

to introduce you 

to my dream

about loving a hole

a swamp

a bog

i want your 

entire

attention

i don't know

if i am 

worthy