J.E. Rosenberg

I'm watching it pour from cupped hands

it's spilling out onto the floor

and I'm grasping, grasping stupidly, mouth agape

“spilled water cannot be put back”

a poet once said.

please take it easy on me

I'm a slow learner

and this is new to me

I say that to myself as much as you

I talk to me more than anyone else

you know

and I'm only so hard on people

because I'm hard on

myself. take it easy on me, man.

I'm new to this.

I don't feel much like music

when you're a room away

where the hell did all my teeth go

I tried to swallow everything

now even this song is silent

and even food feels hungry

this water just tastes thirsty

they've written

the same damn thing

maybe someone will bring

something else to talk about

when we finally get it

all out

I swear I still feel your cheek

and all that sensitive bullshit

doesn't make me feel much better

not knowing and knowing

it's looking like someday lately

a friend said

It's not the dreams

I'll miss

that yellow room

making you spit

reptile laughs.

-- Robbie Kramer

immortality

but i forgot to write it down

rue the day 

Let’s let go from the get go. Let go let God. Let it go. Leave it alone. Let it pass. Let it be. Laissez-faire. C’est la vie. What’s done is done. Hang up on it. Land the plane. Don’t get on that train. The bus has already left. This too shall pass. Shake it off. Cut your losses. Bust loose. Break free. It’s water under the bridge. What goes around comes around. Go around. Get over it. Get it together. Get a grip. Get moving. Keep moving. Move on. Move forward. Forward. March. Give it a rest. Stop. Drop it. Squash it. Release. Please. Relax. Spilled water cannot be poured back. Don’t look back. Enough if enough. Stand down. Stay still. Be quiet. Quit dwelling. Yield. Forget it. Forgive it. Right now. As is. You will be given back the years that the locusts have taken.

March forward! through jellied footsteps and icy gusts move ---- !

and forward they go. The great vanguard of society, bastions of status quo though still unknown the apotheosis of their role

with ironic thoughts of individuality the bright hope of idealistic change they march single file

I flew out of the door running for the moon but as my steps pounded pavement it dawned