I wake up everyday to the sight of the New Normal
Open my ears to the sounds of the news
A black man killed before he could breathe
A child bombed before he could eat
And I think
What is normal?
What is rest?
What is hope?

Normalcy doesn’t sound normal these days
Rest doesn’t sound restful these days
Hope doesn’t sound hopeful these days
And I wish they did anyway

I wish writing, making art, cooking,
playing games, short naps, or social media
Were enough to make us forget about
Restless civilizations
These days
Heartless politicians
These days
Senseless discrimination
These days
The failures of the system
These days

I sit with my heart on my hand
Comprehending nothing at all
These days
While chaos all around us ensues
These days
And months seem to go by as quickly as they can
Yet nothing seems to change
Racism is still racism
War is still war
Hate is still hate
These days

And yet we’ve just realized
These days
How much we valued other days
And there’s no longer any returning to
Those days
Cause if it took us a pandemic to realize
How much we’ve failed those who needed us the most
On days
We’ve looked past reality
Just to see what we wanted to see
And believe what we wanted to believe in
That we chose right
That we’d never be able to fear going out
Since we’ve kept ourselves inside our social bubbles
That kept us from seeing
That everyone else had always been suffering
Before these days
I’d rather have
These days

So what is normalcy?
What is rest?
What is hope
To those who couldn’t afford to have those in the first place?

But I’d like to think that we haven’t completely forgotten
Those days
I’d like to think there will be better days
Where we’ll finally be able to settle down all our differences
That we won’t differentiate black from white
That we’ll finally know wrong from right
And we’ll see that days
Are not just days
But everyday struggles for many to live
In a world that hates living so much

So don't just wish these days
Instead help these days
So that others may be able to live their days too
And not just you
Today.

I shall sit,
On a shore I shall sit
And let the Ocean
wash the dust Off my feet
While golden rays warm my face
And I watch
The big orange sun set,
Upon a day
On a shore,
I shall sit

Pride of place, you take any you positions, I am
at the bottom, fit wherever yous can,

spread thin, ele-mentally thin, surface tension,
truth be told,

as thin as any bubble skin you can imagine being in,
with me,
crazy-- no, not crazy, as in irrational unstable,
with no stashed redeemed idle words to use to make,
ferventingly and effect ual affectionate
art. Art art art, I am art, Ai ai ai, I am in fection per pro
fessorial critque
AI
cuty pi, french curvature sure to pitch that screwball,
Fibbonacci's sion, seeing

so many things follow this curve from a point, might
I?
So, if I were a pinecone, why would I take this
golden progression in materialization,

printing, as in 3-D, at geo-speed, indeed, but we can see;
now, is 2020 and it only gets better,
once.
"This is your life"
Oops, the object orienting this program has slipped

the surly bonds of earth,
in his mind... is that crazy enough? Are you content?

Little one,
My precious one,
What now have you gone and wrought?
What is the fruit of the toils,
Of all the trouble you've sought?

Little one,
My dearest one,
You've gone and ran so far,
Won't you stop running and come here?
Come rest here in my arms.

hey you,
here’s a palace just for you
with all your favourite rights,
here’s a place for you to live,
to love, to learn, to fall, to grow,
here’s a sunset for you to turn into poetry,
and a sunrise to brighten your skies,
here’s someone for you to care for,
here’s someone who can hold onto all the feelings on your shoulders,
here’s an ocean for your thoughts to rest in,
here’s a breeze to remind you of the thick skin you have on which those goosebumps have formed,
here’s a nest of butterflies in your tummy for a change of scenery of all the imperfections you store inside of you,
here’s a shooting star to distract you from the darkness of the world and for you to look up to,
here’s your weight to hold you down to earth to keep you humble,
here’s a melody for you to reminisce on,
here’s a heart beat to help inspire you always.

The kingfisher lazily perched today
as a sorry river sloped below
fish so visible that fishing
felt like cheating

But, y’know, gift horses and such,
and a full mouth for the nest
is best for everyone
I guess

though glimmer and flash
are rarely seen without challenge
we all need a dose of easy pickings
to even the game

True opinions have footnotes.
I learned that from David Foster Wallace,

when I was seventy and he was dead.

-- I think how this is water, often

i just want you in my bed with me
nothing ****** but
lust itching in the bed sheets

i want to feel your rib cage
E X P A N D
collapse
seemingly pause for a moment
while i worry where your breaths went

I want to feel relief when they return

to see the moon reflect against your purple skin
i want are arms to touch
to grasp you for warmth
i want to sleepily fight for my sheets

i want you again, here with