Head against the cabinet
That squishy feeling
Tears popping
The little splash
Head against the cabinet
That squishy feeling
Tears popping
The little splash
How’s a stick man to warm his insides?


If it should flow through us like water
(it does),
wetting every cell as it goes,
why not ride this living means to be boundless,
and say goodbye to our hard little pool?


How in heaven the old appears first
for the sake of recognition –
your gaunt frame and thinning hair,
the soft blue veins on the back of your hand.
We’ll need to be sure.
We’ll have to hear the little cough in your throat first,
before we’ll know we’re there.

Darting and grabbing
gulping and dying