birdmad scraps and tatters and shards.
glistening and scuttling in the breeze.
the contents of heart and mind strewn about like a trailer-park after a tornado.
a bit of a memory over there
the wires and scraps of an idea
dangling from the edges of this place like cheap tinsel on a dead christmas tree in the middle of february brown by the side of the road
all inside my head
i only live inside my head
where did i leave the keys?
am i somewhere under all of this waiting for the rescue dogs to sniff me out of the wreckage?
is it my own internal news break showing me the devastation and keeping me informed
am i the storm or the debris it has left in its wake, or both?

if it rained
maybe some of this would wash away
birdmad i'll pile it to the ceiling

in mounds and droves
i'll hide inside

maybe they'll cart it all off
to the shredder
to the incinerator
to the dead_letter_office

post consumer material

no deposit
no return
yenaldlosi gehenna was just a landfill 021125
what's it to you?
who go