The Room Around Me Poem by Floyd Crenshaw

i
have stared at this screen
for long enough

the beer cans
are loitering on the corners
of the coffee table

the zig-zags have been
torn from the package
too many pocket transfers

the ash trays are falling apart
butts jut and topple out
my fingers extinguish another seven minutes

notebooks hold scribbled needs of one time
years of study
compressed by gravity, stained yellow

the many sandwich bags
once filled with transmogrified money
strewn about the shelves and carpet

x-rays of nothing

art from a friend

a calendar with the cartoon from april
it is august

'return to eden' by sandra bierman
framed in plastic
for four dollars at a garage sale
held up by tacks and the corner of a book

the books slant with the house:
left or south
kafka, thompson, palahniuk, adams,
vonnegut...
other people's work
are my only sense of pride

the empty desk and squeaker chair

the type writer in its case
sketches and 'the graduate'
extension cords and chargers
bind it to the floor

the fan cools the guitar
omit the oscillation of chinese motors
amongst complete silence
and hear a faint compilation
of what ever the hell this mess is.