pre-apocalyptic walnut

I imagine our brains
becoming two halves of a single walnut,
enclosed within an old shell ...

and then I remember
my atoms
aren't mine
      anyway,
(and suddenly (this poem)...)

and nothing really matters

that boring cliche
is cliche
'cause it's true.


... Forget about the walnut.
I want to wake up
dribbling on your pillow
every morning,

Most mornings.

Sometimes
I want to wake up
and sneak out of bed before you
have time to disrupt my
fantasy routine
of apple-cider-vinegar-homemadekombucha-alkalinewater-yoga-mediation-readingabookleisurely...

...

... but I also want to
melt my skin into yours,
fold myself into
your shell.
forever
which is an utterly stupid concept,
I know that, but
still I...

-- and then the ellipses come out.
Ah, see, now we're getting there -

and then the ellipses come out,
the poems go nowhere...
but they arrived
so ...
whatever, really.

in an ideal world
words flow
in an ideal world
I write everything by hand
and it still has global reach
In An Ideal World

in an ideal world
there's tea for every meal
I never question whether honey's bad for me
flute music is always funny

in an ideal world
laughing in motion
isn't met with cynicism
in an ideal world

writing really bad poems