heartbeat 2

my slum­ber­ing tides
shall not coa­lesce into
the tramp­ing of
office build­ings
can­not not coerce me
into stuff­ing mean­ing
into words like too tight
cloth­ing or coin­cide
with the tem­per
of my week­end. There

is no coor­di­na­tion between
my foot and mouth,
though fol­low­ing them
often brings me to the
same place. I will no
longer couch my
thoughts in coy
syl­lo­gisms and log­ic
or be con­found your
emo­tions.
         I will
         sit on
         the grass
         and lis­ten.

I wrote this a real long time ago and don’t remem­ber what I want­ed to fix. I think I was just try­ing to be obtuse in order to appear like I had some­thing to say.