Scott Stevenson

what will happen
is what will happen
what will live
will someday die
...

the south of it, quick and
dangerous,
ruined up to streetlamps cold as ice
make it slower than,
...

cold boat, we sail it
fresh white sails for it
let me say that
it's so good to see you're thinking of me
...

like an angel lost at sea
like a swan that swallows a diamond ring
like the gracious exit of dreams from the mind
a cold, quiet mind and a whisper to heaven
...

break my firm establishment
in two blinks of two sore pouring eyes
that've seen enough perfidy lately
like kicking a sand castle,
...

a moment in passing up the tender mercy
while sheets of iron guard the hall's
empty branch of government
a hinge on fused frosted dead parts
...

let a man believe in his body
let a man live free
for his own gain
let him make scenes, changes, and mistakes
...

is it me that eventually drops,
for days or weeks of sour news
yes
I've been hit, too close to focus and regain my footing,
...

go on, because you must. because you want to,
you can, you will, and I'm not
on your shoulders.
go ahead. munch on a dead cigarette
...

black and white stripes
this is nothing to bother your night sky
deep in those sugar blue eyes
around in a field while you're never alone
...

your umbrella won't always hold out the rain. you'll see that
it gets you when the wind blows. likewise,
your dark glasses can't keep all the sun out.
your gloves are powerless against
...

give me some fire to play with
don't let me burn you
I need to burn sometimes, you see...
but don't let me get you involved
...

don't be so foolish
to think
the worlds' an oyster
for you.
...

one who never falters
one who never hangs his head
one who sings and erases shadows
cuts out the forlorn sighs
...

the orange is your heritage
a mash of old easy days, the old edges
of the photographs,
rusted bicycle wheels,
...

I walk around the outside of you,
intimidated,
in the music of your laughter.
I sample you,
...

do you reveal yourself
in the art of life
do you bring yourself closer to God
do cold clutches of mystery and hard nighttime
...

when I dropped the atom bomb of everything
and threw the door open to God
I dropped every worry and let Him in
...

the further I sweep it under the rug,
the more this cancer builds walls inside-out.
the more I fear myself, or starve myself of
essential self-appreciation, or cringe, or
...

rewind life and remember
your last bad words, your last good ones,
to him. long before the cut.
if you're not too relaxed,
...