the entity that has a brain

some poetry

The finest threads you could buy, 
tangled and tied across your chest

your heart holding angry breath
your heart resting inside a tupperwear
the glass kind
the top lost where in your house
you haven't seen it for days

i've never really learned about it school
nor in the reels and tiktoks that send me tumbling into the night
i never learned about it while riding my bike
not while turning on the lights
not while crying
never

i haven't learnt about it yet
i'd like to learn it
but I haven't yet

maya deren said that she was an obsessive poet
but when she got a camera in her hands, 
she realized she didn't need to waste time converting
her visions into words anymore

is there poetry in the opening and closing of the Simple Human trashcan?
is there poetry in the cupboards?
in my showery stream of piss into the toilet?
in yours?

i've not a penny to my name, only bitcoins, 
but we're repotting the plants for spring
some guy we found on Instagram is in our backyard fertilizing the berry bushes and building raised beds 
we haven't spoken to him yet but he looks cute from the window

I don't know what to write about, not in the way I used to anyway,
with my body instead of my brain
the captchas are getting too trippy for me

as far as the storyteller's role in the revolution
and in the liberation of humanity from tyrants 
"times like these" call for poetry
unfortunately cliché times call for cliché measures
when there is nothing left to say about something
it just feels better to write poems
poems are the burnt ends of culture's BBQ 
when the heat of our longing and sickness is on full display 
and turned up to high, 
cut and sold for more than they're worth

and then there's the poetry of lawsuits too
the poetry of legislation
of tweets 
of endless pages of forms and documents 
poured into the gaping maw of the government and corporate bureaucracies  

so there's that. but they can't take away all the poetry. 

we could be stripped of our clothes and our money and our belongings and our guns and our pens and pencils and swords and paper and families and our tuition money and our dignity and our safety and they still wouldn't be able to take away the poetry.

so there's that.