twilit

the limits to my creative spirit
eek out of the liver spots
cropping up on my skin,
once unblemished,
now puckering itself up
for whatever good will comes
its way. my words too,
less gumption. less pizzazz.
horn arrangements in the halcyon days
remind me of what the sun felt or
rolling down another hill or
flinging myself with abandon
into a pile of leaves or
trying to flip on a trampoline.
trying to get closer to some feeling.
trying to let any old song
feel new. hoping there is
still some time for me 
to flourish. for me to 
have something to say. 

Shhhhhh

 glad to help and happy to assist/get yourself something from the back/be right/with you

i will yell and tell you what you/wanted to hear/unspeakable horrors

don’t you dare?/look away

anything else/thank you/for your time.

portions

seen from the periphery
disbelief is a feature-noise
in the picture. the scope, limited
time.
only in theaters. only for the

theatre.

these performances-unlimited 
servings, famine of understandings.
lessons left on the stove-well past
done.

everything

is up for interpretation.
especially this.
especially me.