Daymare

While it would be nice were it to become so

It’s like it is and won’t be otherwise.  Maybe

The pining simply avoids that this is all of it,

All the pinnacle to scale-get, what someone else

Somewhere hopes will become of their own,

If only and wouldn’t it be great, and it’s too bad

While gawking and frothing in their loveliness, 
Drooling for it, since we never get it righted

No matter how many experts we let in the room.

Even clouds after bleached days of unbearable

Windless sun-broil, inertia’s deep inhalations

Would be better if only thinner, dispersive

Until the next comet makes deadline. Night

Skies baring teeth, the thudding propeller blades

As the needle works its way to the red zone,

Are impossible to love without the proper gear

And a sing-along camaraderie at a back home

Bar, friends you can imagine hemorrhaging

Their parts like pinging in your ears. At night

There's less noise, it's more gentle, more defensible;

No greedy argument pounces in the blindness, no

Me embedded in the grease between things, no

Fire-breeze bleeding weeds dusted up to recall a
Better elsewhere, where it never happens like that.