joel preston west

fragility is tied to urgency, sometimes loosely and unnoticable and sometimes so tight that your eyes squint because it appears that it may snap at any moment.

i find it wild,
almost unbelievable,
what one can convince themselves of
given thirty minutes in a
warm morning bed with
covers tangled,
alarm clock screaming oppression

Found on B Street at 27th

when the sun bellows its first note over those desert hills. (is anyone denying themselves?)

It is nearly impossible, when one really considers it, to avoid a fascination with the mental limits on physical ability.  That connection, the bridge between body and mind, is ceaselessly narrow.  And it is on account of this narrowness, these rusty little wires, that there are so few monks among us.

spent thirty minutes looking for the wrench that tunes the autoharp. frantically because people are coming over. looked twelve places six times each. no luck. slammed my hand on the autoharp. hard. tuning is even worse now. and i’m nervous that a dogwalker might have seen my anger from the sidewalk. i’ll never know for [...]

when i forget to shave i interact less confidently. also, i do my best to act victimized because a sympathy from others can compensate for a lack of professionalism on my part. also, i start believing that i need sympathy because it feels good to be exempt from social standards and the attention is nice. [...]

My dreams are pinstriped. Pressed and pleated. Constantly ringing.
I turn over as smoothly as possible.