greatest hits collection

armed with rockets, spitwad shooters

dislocated poetry, the subtle elegies ou whisper

into my ear as i sleep

i climb fences whether ready

not until the sun is silent

it resonates like open head wounds

like that song about your smile

hopelessly rose colored reasons, meanings left to guesswork

left behind like how it used to be and "everything's okay"

our murdered selves still itching slightly

right behind the knee, the beardline, middle of the upper back

the hardest spot to reach

and eloquence imagines just how easy impulse has it

i fill my pockets with your exhales though i know

they're not mine to keep

my better days like broken fingers, alliterative enough to see her

school of stuffed animals symphonic as the marching band

we keep our laughter in locked boxes

the evidence accusers pay for

anchorless, i am just driftwood

evident as evidently not

my new storm was impressive on the drive home from California

through December and those ghost towns

couldn't cut it on the map

and i wish i could've been there when your son was born

i heard about it just the other day

i should've sent a card or

something, oh well, but i don't suppose that it surprised you

it doesn't surprise me either

yeah, i'm still trying to sleep right through it all

          i am

ornamental chaos, i still

catch sad smiles from my reflection sometimes

i am the song you never listen to on the greatest hits CD maybe

except for every once in a while