if you sit at the desk long enough
I don’t know what you will find
maybe the world of darkness and light, that the poets speak of
or maybe just a desk full of empty space
if you go out into the world long enough
I don’t know what you will find
maybe heartache rage and hopeful faces
or maybe just people treading stars and stripes
if you go into yourself long enough
I don’t know what you will find
maybe a misshapen story and ugly hands on your neck
or maybe it will be a golden and bitter ladder
leading from your bladder to your throat
maybe all the words that you have spent years swallowing
and drowning in will climb into your hair and nose
maybe you will bear down on the years of faces in sheets and
crippling doubt and white rage and become very afraid
or maybe you will cry with your whole heart full of tears and pain
at the news
feel like you need to take all your salt and vines
and make a bridge in yourself
maybe you will build a bridge in your life
maybe you will build a fort in your marrow
or
maybe you will die at the arrows of hate and indifference
maybe lying in street with the American Judas, starts to sound, okay
until he/she/they kisses/kiss your face and turns you in to be shredded by laser and lies
maybe you will lie awake for a 100 years full of storms and silent fury
until the daylight sears you wide open with jagged balloons of your past selves
and eventually you peep your
head from the middle of your stomach
long enough to take your own hand
and pull yourself
back to life