Fragments that could be poems spun from table scraps, shrapnel, worries, pocket lint

Journal entries meet erasure poetry crossed with some GIFs and a random photo and I call it "la cohérence" and there you have it

Unrelated shot of the sad blue whale I carved from a block of basswood for my good friend ALB

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the mad birds are flying again
the winds have picked up
swelling our rough-spun sails
like the bellies of the rich

almost the same obscene curve 
as the bellies of the hungry
cotton streaked with blue veins
faded tattoo lines of the heartbeat

heavy with fuel but no maps 
no compass or even a destination
just this daily bread of staying afloat 
unladening the boat by degrees

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external validation feels 
more valuable than money

this tiny buddha platitude
is a perfect example of me

pushing (toxic) positivity 
into every negative space

pushing the first into a third 
person point of view

"could I be any more 
fucking emo?" he snarled

walking away from the notebook
cursing, the stone paper book

he had dedicated to poetry 
exclusively, a journal in verse

stone, hammer, chisel, a load
weighted to cure the atrophy

---

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the thought experiment that goes
if you could dream anything you wanted
you would eventually come full circle
and dream what you are doing right now
the thought experiment
that we chose this for ourselves
this lot
this pain of loss
this loss of bearing
this knowledge of finitude, entropy
this pain as the medium for growth
a medium for the wisdom to carry on
to carry an ever-growing load
with ever-diminishing strength
that those who have lost the most 
are those we must ask how to live
how to love each other
most of all the other in ourselves
how to value the background process
the foundations
the floor under one's feet
how to sink our toes in lessons
boring as dirt
how to kiss the ground 

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Other fragments: