BEGINNINGS OF POEMS THAT WERE NOT FINISHED.

born in time

waking up is no easy task when the
curvatures of relativity are on hand.
to put on a suit when one is born
into such finite circumstances,
is to pull the knot without ever owning a tie.
perhaps its the vanishing point you see.

eating breakfast never quite prepares you
even when it consist of lined pages and
a glass of hydrodynamic orange juice.
the vitamin d packed in a to-go bag is equivalent
to an education consisting of broken keys & shoestring wording -
it was no wonder the ragged tooth smile
couldn't even lace his shoe.
(parallel to last line)

with laces,,
made of yarn,
always in motion,
like the human heart,
when will it collapse?

------
my suburbia is a vanishing point
similar to sunday mornings at a born again church.
a drone,


she grew up in a methodist church
filled with those dog on' methodist ways.

---
the paranoid delinquent

everyone knew the paranoid delinquent was a bit off her rocker.
fast paced walk, to the store, back again
she wondered what the clerk knew when he always handed her a straw.


----
Ode to a Painter
3:22AM on a Friday Evening
& so it seems, in the relative context,
left in confinement




none of these are done and most have notes for self for finishing them....one day maybe. posting here bc i keep losing the file on my computer. & i finally found it after months of it lost!