The Wake

Will a poet’s words be remembered after the drought of many seasons?
How do you organize the abrupt snap from the dream when you’re all disoriented—science?
When the leaves whisper in your ear, why don’t you stop to listen?
When you laugh, do you subdue it or laugh loudly that others might ask what you are laughing about?
When did a shiny new penny lose its appeal?
Where have the zeppelins gone that turn clouds of ash?
Are they just another set of lies told to make weak minds believe?
What is the sound of all the world’s music played rhythmically together?
What negative space did you break through today?
Why does the pen put me down whenever I pick it up?
When we step into our slippers, do they sigh with plentitude?
When Alaska finally collides with Russia, will the blue of one country on the map mix with the yellow of the other to create green?
Is twenty going to feel any different?
When will eighty be the new twenty?
So now that we are so bored is it ok that I play video games while we fuck?
Why does life sometimes seem like a cycle of awakenings and sleepings?
Jesus, how many times have I eaten of you, how many thimbles of your blood will it take me to get drunk, no, plastered?
When does Sunday rest for prayer?
When will we remember our claws, our languageless dreams?
Why does the dictionary dictate our words, when it is we that dictate the dictionary?