breakfast in limbo

there’s so much i’m not supposed to tell you

i’ve gathered angels, i’ve begun consorting with greater beings

there are six of us sharing

two forks over cushiony pancakes

that velvet-lined purgatory (limbo, lobotomy, et cetera)

i’m working on my listening

the moon blue over night sky

some darkened boogie behind glass curtains and

onto burnt coffee

there’s this whistling of sequoias folding into

the velvet-curtained night (purgatory, seduction, a triangle-toothed grin)

no good has come of waiting

once again i’ll tell you there are

many things i’m not allowed to say

by the way my limbs each bend

back with my restraint

you do see i’m trying

and yes, you are so very good

but even that will not save you in the end