Communicable Discourses


Where do you even begin

With half this shit  –

The precipice or the bucket?

We speak in clichés


As they’re easier to understand

Like the TV hanging on the wall.

(I crawled out that window once

And never came back)


Do you remember

When we weren’t so obscure

Back then? Our mothers laid

Our clothes out for us each morning


And we only knew the names of

The things we knew the names of

Like bread, blood, bone.

Now everything is a text


And I need an interpreter,

A dictionary, a health plan

And a bigger bucket.

A much bigger bucket.


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