Bugolgi Apparatus

Wrong  These are the wrong times  the best people  are dead  we turned around twice  everyone has left  holding the bill  as trains ended   we’ll have to make it up ourselves reconstructing lines  to a better future  walking home through the night  in the wrong times 

  Coming Soon   I look forward to   not remembering   to mistaking the film   for a dream   for the dream   being my past   for a childish sense   of justice to prevail   for the bad   to be punished   unless she’s very pretty   in which case   the nurse’s come for the pan  

made to lead  wanna breed  do what I do  don’t wanna think   things get complicated  you get frustrated  calm you down  with what I’m making  a man  help me understand  was I built for  more than slaving and war   man  without a plan  is worth less  than food digested visions and fears  advertise nightly  sacrificing to buy them outright no guarantees  many will leave  made to build  it’s about the timing   a man  I forget what I am  weighed down by  convention and skin   man nothing else   when this spirit  leaves  where it’s been

  Middle-Class Art I admire how empty   your life is   your work as a blur   of leisure bits   while war threatens   your neighbors   you paint a perfect portrait   of the dog   I admire how ugly   your wife is   how you love her   with all your heart   and your children   so promising   how they feel the void with all their guts   middle-class art   taught in the classroom where to start where boredom rules   institutional measures   robbed of every pleasure   the kids feel it in their guts   the meaning’s out there as the planet slides   into an abyss   and civilization’s threatened   with non-existence   you can’t say   we don’t deserve it   it’s written in every   stroke of your brush

  You Probably Didn’t Like Yourself, Either keep us one person apart   distance preserves image   no one’s in my head   we’re not so different   all alike in the dark   and one’s the limit   I delete the action   as soon as it happens you probably didn’t   like yourself, either  

  Holidays  between the laptop and the phone cookies and the bone  you rebound to come  face to face with the loneliness  after messages you've sent the sounds of clarinets marinate you  with your onliness putting in so much work  into becoming unique  towering over  your own edifice scanning the ground  worms in your beak for tiny creatures to comfort to kiss stirring in your flock  they’ve already taken off mocking in your thoughts  your own decision making process

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ideas invade me   ideas captivate me   I wrestle with them   then they leave me   not completely   secretly becoming   a part of me   until I can’t remember being different   you cling to them   I reject you because   I don’t have your connection   to them   I make them my own   and you get irritated   you take a new position   and then I’m frustrated   and cite irreconcilable   differences while the devil just farts   in our general direction  

  Talking the election with my dentist   the pain is real   now he can’t reproduce it   cavity was the big one   they’d already filled it he told me when   he became a citizen   took a pledge not   to be a communist   And he mentioned Khomeini   And how the promises reminded him And how he ignores the rhetoric   All the bashing of Muslims I talk with people   I don’t agree with I try to understand   why do they think this There are reasons   histories and emotions   That in the sunlight   hurt a bit less And I was spitting out   the blood and mouthwash I felt thankful we could   have the discussion   he suggested antibiotics   I took them and then I voted for the communist   who was just a 70’s moderate   he wondered what happened   to all the moderates   he feared the disappointments   of the last mayor