Peace of Intestacy

A guitar, a bonfire, quiet talk
food, spirits

that's what I want about now

and in subconnective synthesis
liquid crystal, imaginary alterunits
circles, list and some nostalgia

of someone else's prairie
someone's council park at night

pathos, some hunger, irritability, if a net browser could give off heat

maybe I'd feel the brew of spun wisdom

which is already defunct to a pragmatic passing of flesh and memory

i foretold that I would die this year

the end of October sounds good

I must get some affairs into order

resolve my best icewhite schadenfreud

the best I could muster is leaving behind debts and a trashed room

someone pregnant

that's about as much a fireless frustration could inflict

inflicting is a way of leaving a trace

a legacy of some blood spilt that codes for history for someone

a datamine, unread email from some autoreply sender

bounceback reminders to write

we don't enter correspondence

leave this poem behind like an impotent flipped bird to those
that might read it and to those who in my mind deserve no less

than to be reminded of their vacancy and my brimming

some clothes, amongst them a scarf

dishes with last night's scrape

and your computer cursor impatiently fucking you off,

you are no friend of mine,

if only I could throw you in the fire first before I die.

That is what, when, where and how I'd like to find you and leave you.