hugs faces with stubble raising questions
uprooting space with nicks and cuts
heat insults the back of the neck
clouds manufacture stillness
stranded under feet
odor for a towel undone
into holes looking upon nowhere
Backs of office chairs
reclining nooses stand up straight
across a thunderous sweeping off the table
amusing for no one
but parts of bodies that fall away
delaying for what now
it'll swing they will swing
until they fall away
and until then
Nurse recites something she saw in real life deader than a phony connection dial again wrong number no it was the right number and now you hung up and calling back has been put on the back-burner until the back-burner has been hooked up behind the building where they the ones who came by and carrying something blunt broke the glass and had to insist on carrying on something blunt broke the glass and had to insist they just might get out they just might get in they just might get by the ones who came by and carrying something blunt broke the glass and had to insist that the nurse recite something she saw in real life deader than a phony connection dial again wrong number no it was the right number and now you hung up and calling back has been put on the back-burner until the back-burner has been put on the back-burner hooked up behind the building where they the ones who came by and carrying something blunt broke the glass and had to insist on carrying on something blunt broke the glass and had to insist they just might get out they just might get in they just might get by the ones who came by and carrying something blunt broke the glass and had to insist that the nurse recite something she saw in real life deader than a phony connection.
"Why does it look like that?"
"What did you do to it?"
"You mean how did it get like this?"
"What happened?"
"I was in with the assistant maintenance coordinator and he dropped his nail-gun on my right foot."
"I thought you were asking me about your nose."
"I'm getting to that."
"Oh, does it come next after the nail-gun to the foot?"
"Actually, it comes before."
"Before?"
"I start with the most recent incident and work my way back."
"Use whatever works."
"That's the thing, though. It doesn't always work."
"I heard there was a sandwich on the roof."
"And this would be a demonstration of which one of your vast array of quirks?"
"This is me hopping off the boardwalk of a conversation when the other person is experiencing a breakdown in their approach."
"Seems more like a breakdown in my withdrawal."
"And how did it get like that?"
"What kind of sandwich was it?"
Let sleeping bags lie
have the whispering from inside them
tell all they want
that another told them all they wanted
and the wind molds
what cracks them up
into bits of wet sadness
only shadow cast on the dry ground
"And how did your breakdown in your withdrawal get like that?"
"It must have been when I was taking a piss and thought about what she was thinking and my insecurities that used to provide a nice attenuated echo to her chamber-like ensemble of brooding had deformed into an extra layer of her chafing one of her rear speakers that could no longer be rearranged or rewired but had to be disposed of."
"Is that before or after she dumped you?"
"I don't remember. All I can bring to mind is that while I was thinking this I had pissed on a great deal of the toilet seat and any potential for internalizing anything was lost in cleaning my own mess. I stopped standing up after that."
"I still thought you were asking me about your nose."
"Tell me a story."
"Did I tell you the one about the magician who tried to resist the temptation to reveal the secrets of his tricks and archived them?"
"Is this the one where the magician gave up magic and became an archivist?"
"You have heard that one. Then I don't have any new ones unless you want to hear one I haven't told in a while."
"Start with a more recent one and work your way back."
"It can only get better."
"Not always."
"They still haven't refilled the breath tape and trail mix machine."
Let sleeping bags lie
have the whispering from inside them
tell all they want
that another told them all they wanted
and the wind molds
what cracks them up
into bits of wet sadness
only shadow cast on the dry ground
- Max Stoltenberg
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