language related to art related to music related to nature related to love related to the collective unconscious related to the garden of souls and flowers related to this

torch it burning

blaze the flame on a flame and fire it up
and with that cool one-handed stride
let lubricate a river dipstick
push the wheeled thingamaboob all the way back
it was unsound and disallowed
crammed a crowd into the dowdiest mound of garbage
raw friendships cooked to mush then refried
died and dieting and edited met again slept
sleepening deepening creepening steep the dream
dreamer didn’t do much more than math
always the assault this way again
little crumbly crumbs crumping up my surfboard
time-out party, were you fixed on sideways?
i always left the best book to be read later, last,
like i was saving it for after my homework,
but literary foreclosure made certain the songs
were sung silent, voiced headphones on and stark
mad raver, as close as it felt,
the friendliest among them was far too distant to be considered real
and why were the looks so hard to read
but why were my loves no longer private
and how did the song i listened to
turn into an advertisement for beer?
approval is only needed by souls who aint been feeded
thank the witness my heart-shaped garden has been seeded

-from “bubbles”