spilled my coffee,
knocked it over, coffee all
over, spreading like some disease,
like dementia of a stupid old
pretentious old man, stealing everyone’s
ideas of fine and true — mongrel dog old
man, growing up chicken-shit trailer trash stupid,
everyone’s better than me. like, as if i could learn
how to be better than me.
gum-crack architecture — the way it’s arranged,
the way it’s balanced between lazy and
practical, my keyboard’s woodboard is now
dripping cold coffee on my knee,
and i’m wiping my knee with this
wear, cause i’m too lazy and stupid and
white trash to
use a hanky… speaking of, why am i fucking
whining like a sissy?
making a new cup of coffee,
making the thought in my head that
my board is fine as it is…
making in my mind the reality that
that cold drip was kind of trippy,
like water dripping off green moss on
some creek mountain side in oregon.
holding in my mind that i’m
connected with some kind of
touch-is-infinite, and energy is
out of my hed, my dik, my finger tips down
inside my hart with so much love.