Chasing anchors in grey beards yet always
stuck stroking slivers 
conceived by a goatee yet rocked to
sleep only by TV 
asked out
by nooses clinging to an end of a rope I cut myself 
how come windows sit with me, but doors keep walking? 
swallowing hallways from any other house 
I suck up another coffee cup stumbling toward the pry of clouds 
hatching will not stop tapping
hounds with watches nip at my chin
an old old silence smacks me around
I can’t put a spear through anything I actually need!
how to get to the beating of a coil when threads push thorns on a swing? 
just heat up my head in a daydream 
carry me around like a puppy since I’m already
surrounded by too many babies 
the sun is dead to me that’s why
I’m summer’s side piece