oh those bomber jets?

merely finite sets

of Alls safety nets.

and the alcohol?

just a Bitter Ball 

hand to god cries All

alter instant

can it be fixed?

memory lapsed

after intense

movements make flat

stone inscription

my yr diction

circular track

please no bawlin

big sky heatin

rises meanin

caint be fallin

the writers head it hangs

no shame was full of lead

no crying, son its just

the game its finally done 

dont dig it up rejoice

the brain has found its peace

for now

my father heard it 1st as a small child,

interrupting thoughts and all the while

the dead are desperate, 

theyre putting pre-cise numbers to their huertz

bildingstill the hums about to burst

the head fills restless,