The humans are out there taking their bows in the light where the world can see.
We are piled up,
cold and immobile on the floor as the green room light fills
Up our empty button eyes.
Our cardboard frames listen closely to the aching theater walls,
And to the chandelier,
Tired of holding its own weight.
We may not be destroyed.
Perhaps we will be kept in a room, overcome with mildew and moon:
Still folded over,
Still Bowing
1.
There was this game about a skate park. I think there was also one about a BMX course, but the one that I haunt is the skate park.
I am having a dream about the senior class graduating.
It is a beautiful day
And I am watching from a hill
Sobbing as the hats fly off
Japan, 1863. Across the globe, the civil war rages.
I made the long walk
Across the plains,
through the village path
under the stars.
At long last, I came to the monastery
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