maximum least



At maximum least

This drinking is the gentlest of foes

Even the stomach acids burning

represent the minimum bearable

conflagration



Oh, whatever.

A slightly vague feeling, this emptiness in the absence of total abject loneliness

and sexual desperation



When your girl is good and sweet and pretty

She grows on you like real and utter hair

More essentially joyous annoyance to contend with

Hey, pictures don't lie. And I've never looked so happy



And since the high-art tradition contiues to mundanely ravel out like the spurious undead

Let's call to mind Dali's "Persistence Of Memory"

Those horribly melting clocks in some interminably sheer and barren

wasteland



I feel that way lying in bed and in the shower and sometimes at desk at work

Trying to put together the intricacies and plot points of images of the not-so-distant-past



I especially feel that way upon thinking of my dormant guitar

What an irrepressibly boring and repetetive board game these rounds can sometimes resemble



And what mitigates this truth now is the absolute certainty of such states not being in any way

contained or limited or determined by geography - only by proximity of self



Present, hopeful, tangible dreams of beer sustain us

In our basement

And such smokes as we have are smoked sparingly with reverence

so to obtain some ripple of our lost ancestral humanity



I could smoke now but I'd rather with a brother



These times ain't easy where our dearest hope is neither sold nor told