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1.
predisposed pose, this disreputable mental territory,
as if it connoted something marked, something to be
conquered. it's certain the drinks are easy on talk.
we haven't seen each other in so long, it's tough. too
loud, the daffodil blooms after we've cleaned up all
morning. the desk looks like a parody of organizational
task delegation. om. egalitarian slash parody of linear
studiousness. example of aimless flowering, the hum
of the blender perfectly pitched to annoy any dream
the cat might have on her ottoman, sometimes lazy.
there would be a place for news filler here, I guess.
3.
what salad? small molecular focal funeral
for mass consumption, gobble. eat
and sling it. shoulder the sole notice, an
envelope calling for new roof above us,
and gossip crawls up to the desktop,
settles in for a nice chat over luncheon.
we all love a nice mincing, don't we just?
you could see whites of their blanks, all
cuddling up to a whole miserable con-
session, where we'll forget what could
have happened, once the fullness drops.
if I were a meddlesome sort of creature,
I'd slit the absolutism out with a short
barbwire excavation, engineered before
consciousness set you off like alarm bells
hollering for a nonexistent owner today.
5.
without question, can the runaround ever
end? personnel issue dealing cards across
the table to brusque individual metaphor
for anger, over-managed. likely ready to
burst, an overripe cant, a lope so damaged,
there's little reason to catch the leader
blasé, or may we steal your manners tomorrow.
would you liken my face to a certain bedeviled
chemical track? there was a restoration
in store for the mind, and some plants don't
stand up well to high winds. they've buzzed
our neighborhood eyes present; our words
wander out the crack under the door,
and that presentation drones onward, hurtling
progress as if we were built for it, intrinsic
to interaction and tribal noise. under
the funk, the drip of sad is a human.
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clayton a. couch
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