I feel quickened by a book about sadism and bowling trophies.
I bet its got something to do with free flash brewed iced coffee.
I stomp my feet hard onto the pavement,
and if the rock you gave me hadn’t already been
smoothed by the ocean,
I’m sure my fingers would have done the trick.
At the bus stop I watch a girl walk by
the bus stop that I’m sitting at,
which is unfortunate because I probably just
need someone to talk to.
I start to wonder if she sees what R. saw,
but the bus finally comes.
I’m sorry that I can’t sit through
Carl Sagan tonight.
It’s mostly because I wouldn’t know how to process the cosmos
especially when the space around me
is already too much to bear.
the more I more than like you
the more and more I miss you
and I always know I’ve got it bad
when I start worrying about how absolutely, indescribably, fucking awful it’ll be when you die.
you’re addicted to cigarettes
and i’m allergic to doorknobs,
or at least that’s the way I’m choosing to look at it
because it explains why it’s so tough for me to go outside
which is where you ended up last night when
our sicknesses collided.
I start uncontrollably laughing
because they’re selling a couch
good enough for a psychoanalyst
at goodwill.
I think about laying down on it,
because I’m not too sure what any of this is all about.
Poet Douglas Kearney and composer/producer/drummer Val Jeanty link up for a a compelling LP that feels like the written word come to life. Bandcamp New & Notable Mar 30, 2021