from Everything I Need Is Thrown Out #2

2

I haven’t
put them

in Producers’
letterboxes

for recording
studios

in times of lyrical
shortage.

I did stencil
some

on placards
of low tide

sand, leaving
behind the business

card of the lonely
calling

love of Poetry.
Left alone

they aren’t
even printed—

Schrödinger’s
poems

in a
laptop.

3

When I take
my Hobo
walkabout

again
it’ll be
with a coin
-toss
of which didge
& one
or two of those hex
shapes

to open bins—
everything
you’ll need
you’ll get:

munny, food—
unopened
items in their use-by
dates, clothing,
water, shelter,
though, by time
within yourself,
the body emits
intention
from the plough-shed
of the male
earning wages
to the prepaid
itinerary of holidays
and I’ll suppose
it looks like
bravery
to the guilty—as I bath,
bask, in
the pitying looks
judged a creature failed
by the passing Shodwells,
who see a homeless nodevout,
but sister, it’s a new
and living manuscript,
a hatful of cooling coins, a plan
to place an architect
ahead of time, to scout the
brother-minerals to feed
a body singing

into death
the simple, light travel
of sound through a stick
and symbols from a writing
tool
spoken more in jest,
a sign, that I may aim for
align this moment now with.