My blood is as good as a dial.
I can work on it a little each day, a little less each day.
Come back to the ancient citadel with the Diet Coke.
Pour it over me, warm and flat.
Room begets rooms which feed on their father.
I want to hear it, the individuality of your engine.
A long story, falling into the box, claws at the fabric.
That bubble! Bubble again. That bubble!
If you have to be worn out, a reprise of the green dances will do.
I heard it, sputtering, in the distance along a wall.
Remember, if necessary, but put forgetting to use.
Glenn Ingersoll works for the Berkeley Public Library where he hosts Clearly Meant, a reading & interview series. He has two chapbooks, City Walks (broken boulder) and Fact (Avantacular). He keeps two blogs, LoveSettlement and City Walks. Recent work has appeared in Poetry East, Askew, and Hearty Greetings.
