were not

"I have nothing to say. I have probably never had an original thought in my entire life."
When I'm biking it's okay to have these bleak, self effacing thoughts because they're transient. I can fix them to a location and leave that location so quickly even an idea could eat my dust. It's when they stick or catch on my tongue in the getaway that they become a problem.

If they stick I have other ways to fix them.

I can pin them down with words and stretch them to the point of caricature. Shout them into the palms of my hands then rub them up and down the keyboard. "Look, look at what I've done. Would you tell me if I was wrong?" I don't think I'm wrong.

Let me tell you what it feels like.

Okay, imagine what you want is in the first panel, center of the frame. Okay, second panel now and it's farther away and a little bit further to the left. Third panel and it's almost gone. I think you get the idea. I think you can handle the closure between panels.


Keeping Track

heavy pumping in the legs and a steady rhythm
stretching as you cross the line then a tearing
push the skin to a new personal best
keep moving

the rabbit runs with paws pinwheels
alarm clock heart in its doomed orbit
white fur gone tawny with rust and wear
racing parallel

everyone runs their own race
and even though you've never hungered
you want the oil in your smile
the weight round your shoulders

as you cross the line look back
the rabbit in your jaws kicks
and at last you begin to stagger
you haven't won

but at last
you've lost everything just for them
and just imagine how pleased with you
he'll be.


the curtain hits the cast

when the actress stands
steps from the box whole
expectation of blood mocked
and having bent
steel to her will carries on

the audience waits patient
as the trick is staged again
and again until it slips
and a set of legs kick
one two and stop

magician made the fool
confirmed and canonized
in his falling upon the sword

the patsy's victory