staring contest

staring contest with god
for an hour—

no blinking,
no bargains,
no clever lines
to slip out the side.

just you,
held

in the unbearable
mutual knowing.

hanging
on a withered root—

no soil left,
no promise of rain,

just the grip,
and whatever
is still watching back.

✦

“another day in paradise”
still turning—

pressed decades ago,
the needle already chose
where it would land.

2:29 / -2:29

a perfect split
you don’t get to argue with.

✦

something you can say?

no—

the story is already firmed up.
the mold was cast
half a century ago.

we’re just
warm material now,

filling the shape
that remembers us
better than we do.

✦

manufactured—

by keepers
and gates

we’ve never met before.

no signatures,
no ceremony,

just passage
authorized
in silence.

✦

subsystems, bro—

layers humming
under the visible,

all of it live,
all of it moving,
all of it deciding

far beyond
what we can hold.

but you only get
what you can handle.

that’s the deal.

the rest?

we just pretend
it ain’t going on—

while it breathes
all around us.

✦

time to get up.

forget yourself.

like i said—

serve the collective
with an eye
or an ear.

master present.

hold the line
long enough

for something true
to pass through you.

and hope
they catch some.

✦

i’ve got a date
with the judgment seat—

vinyl throne,
paper bib,
light like confession
forced open.

a virgin dentist

no history
with my ruin,

about to read
the fracture

like it was always
meant
to be there.

✦

play it again.

mouth open,
eyes fixed—

still hanging.

good luck.