by Jeremiah Walton
As an artist, when you stare at something blank and think ‘I don’t know what to do’ it’s to hide from the
terrifying answer
‘whatever the fuck you want’
Boom bang nada boom
Going to see the eye doctor
Cause this cigarette means I’m supposed to see better than this
Something that ratatatats transcendence
Not ears, not an abstract painting of fireflies shimmering over water
Not the trees fallen in the river, nor the insects living in their corpses
Neither the hues of sunsets or runt raccoons hit dead on roadsides
Not trespassing, not panicking
Not lonely, something like friends
& being lonely
or being lonely among police lines and guns
and cartels and mothers working 60 hour weeks to feed her kids, terrorism and freedom fighters, something that incorporates all that jazz, ya know?
Something to hold onto the wings of crows in night,
filing memories with finger prints.
Meandering away from crows and ratatatats towards a glowing screen
Tums for rationalizing the emotions chortling chemicals in brain
Following the white light like they do in the movies,
the moon looks up & away
Eyes not there to hold her
An average flesh vehicle
spends (3.2) hours a day on social media
News Feeds verify it’s okay to go to the doctor or eat vegan
An astronaut looks down at the storm from the moon
& giggles as he spray paints the inside of a crater
for no one to see
for no one to love
for the moon looking up.