BLT REI Biography

In the surburbanned cavorting of my dirty knee youth...
the smells anchored me in
orange slices
clean cut grass
...

It’s late, too late to be raining
The dog does not walk the old man.

The teenage buzz drowned in yesterday’s paper.
...

Take your house...
the sunken in foundation, the creaks and the aches, the syruppy moat of moalasses where the do gooders and their platitudinal well wishes slowly drown.

it's your world, your house, where the familar leaky faucet drips 'stay inside, stay put', the incessant drafty gloom-bedridden in moss, the forever spiraled stairs of certain death.
...

...

Not the endless lists of daggers
Not the saturation of gloom
Not the sands of bitter time down an unquenched gullet
Not the replays of replays of you walking away from me so so gracefully
...