In a room full of sleeping children
Sweet twitching feet
Rubbed against each other
And resettled.
This time
It's peace
Next time
It's time
To put your shoes back on

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In Catastrophic Times,

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The Great Derangement.

I’ll admit that I canceled

my subscription after

The Great Disruption or: How I

Learned to Stop Worrying

and

B i n g ew at c h

these irregular-ass seasons.

However,

Due to the lack of my own character development,

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to rejoin this paradigm SHIFT.

Frequently bought with:

Learning to Die in the Anthropocene.

do you doodle?
i do doodle.

The Pinch

Enough of a crack for the L of hall light

to show I'm not wholly rude,

but to half frame what shuffles downstairs

for the crack to be maintained.

Acting out, no you can't chuck my workbooks,

though they only remind me I only

half-remembered maths then,

and now the blood I drew in rough.

I don't want the family tree either,

or to think of the bass amp in the 

shoe cupboard, fuse blown,

its last catastrophic rumbling wheeze.

Charles and Diana

rattled in the dresser,

they feel it still,

clattered into saucers.

Light Switch

We angled for the front door

and saw the people who were neighbors
watching from the sidewalk. 

Step, lurch, step with all our bags. 

Instinct more than anything led us

to the unknown light switch as memories 

of flipping switches on and off–

finding the wall and feeling with a flattened palm for plastic smoothness–

undammed themselves; there was no juice. 

Unfamiliarity makes me clutch for something 

relatable. Especially when I'm standing

in the croaking, open dark. 

LIVING TOGETHER

The river is melting our neighbor Jen watches from her rope chair

her facebook friends don’t believe in global warming

but look at that river she says and she’s right the oily pink

is breathtaking the crows are rioting her cigarette’s still long

after talking about cops I rush upstairs to try and remember

everything that’s good and everything that’s bad

hashtaggratitude you said when you crashed into bed last night

I had already been there for a while more morose than I’d like

to admit but the river is distracting it is deep and full of secrets

what did we do all year long

we got sunstroke on the deck we ate dinner

sometimes in silence we woke up startled we raced each other

to the kettle the shower we fought and we fought

and made a million contracts

we marveled at the mustard colored sediment that collects

beneath the cushions and laughed about the things

that matter least and most