Panic disorder

You can be forgiven,
but for me,
concrete walls will scream
and shake angry slab fingers
in a tragic collapse
from the weight of my fault

under a sickening light of shame

revealing me 

outwardly unscathed

undeserving of pity
carpet-called, right now!
reprimanded angrily
subject of dark disappointment
You unfit oddball
You don’t belong!
See, right here

you forgot something. 


BK

Tilting Into It 

A little scary
the iffy control we have
on the trajectory
of our minds
And those remote controls
are terrible:
clinical, chemical, religious, telemetry 

Like crude Mars probes

that thunk down

somewhere

lost on our surface someplace 

who knows where

more scattered debris 

for the collection.

Or they miss altogether 

though we’re not that far away...
or even all that complicated
we're more like
those old tilting marble and maze games

with the basic knobs
to guide yourself 
away from the bad holes
and into the good ones
which really just gets you

back to Start again

so it never ends.

Ever.

But if you set down the remote controllers

you can get pretty good
at reading the tilts 
and learning to dial 

your own knobs
accordingly.



BK

Some days are just like that

I arrived in today like a wet flag collapsed in rain
Curled inward against the pole 
dripping from corners
onto asphalt 

paving a dangerous world

edgy and precarious
littered with pretty swords

so I take soft lurching steps
past what places might get me
given a chance
fact of life 

be eaten just like that
keep an eye peeled is right bro
against what

I don't know

but for God's sake don't stop looking 

until a dry wind flies the flag again. 


BK