Even without a job on the train
i shoveled coal-
to make fire
to make use of
stuff
and my things
and stupid little
problems
derived of things i don't know about
and people i wish i could just express to
my
justification
of
ambiguity to
or feeling
fire, not the expected,
burned even in pretense
and shoveling just to keep myself from thinking
idle distraction- an excuse
for an idle thought
and that one clarification
that scared me so bad
i lost control of any clarity
and made ebullient the consequence of my every action
or posted a note on facebook
or wrote for an approval
or cliche
or a spark for a fire
or to keep myself from having no excuse not to sleep
or to create an overspecialization
to analyze
or to hide everything
behind anything
still influencing the opposite
yeah,
its funny how the classics never die
or know death
as entities of coal
and subsequent flame
not knowing death
bliss preserving the existence
how cool it would be to burn out then?
(no pun intended)
and never know
what it would be like to miss
or assume something deeper
than we previously allowed
in bipartisan affair
where heat and paranoia holds me close
and
Judy Garland
Chris Impellitteri and
Glen Miller
all went on a bad day
and shoveled up that deeper assumption
that until now
felt really hazy
and illogical
but still felt like home
like the future
Until the engine dies
Until the system-
though progressive-
dies
i will make fire
of the coal
of the assumption
and even posthumously
i will not recognize that it is out
death
as an analogy
to trains and
christmas and
bliss and
love
and other playthings of children
though misunderstood
were still fun to play with
feeling santa on the roof
and suddenly caring about behavior;
dreaming of the Engineer-
wherever he is,
above,
or in the dream itself;
feeling a flutter for the first time
and hoping
between her lips
that there would be no ellipsis
after the moment,
the hope,
the flutter;
trying to reincarnate bliss
as some vain discredit
that the professor called solipsism,
and then realizing the irony
in believing his teachings;
not knowing what to make of all
fire
coal
as a fuel source
primarily
and then a metaphor
and consequently
a form which represents
wanting to say something
and not just saying it
wanting to be there
and stay there
in the dark
in the fear of elders who don't know
and the fear of getting caught
in a bigger perspective
in opening
trust
seeing past even the fire
or any other categorization or fear
of losing or
growing weary
or insanity,
or letting go
and forgetting the original theme
altogether
and becoming something more
a declaration
of self
of togetherness
of the insanity
and all of its self-justifications
so cute and flawed
a reality
so illogical, in fact,
a post probably won't create it
or any other
train of thought
or missed point
but its in 2's
because now other numbers seem overused
in fire
or shoveling
of mistakes
and cut up hands
in thoughts tested
and now outweighed
by one,
more significant,
a testament to the number
to the synopsis
to the story to come
still anticipated
by the hope of the present