Yo but for real I have had no idea what to do with this thing for years now maybe and I still have no idea but right now I think I am gonna post all these drafts of this poem I am trying to make into a not shitty thing, and also I will update the links to poem that have been published so that I can remember when and where my things go and have gone.
ok so, this thing

um ok

At my door there was a knock and I opened itand my neighbor said There is someone at the front door for youso I walked down the three flights of stairs to the front doorand I opened that too. In front of me was a policeman.He said Hello. He said May I come in it is cold out.I am pretty sure he was telling the truth because there was a foot of snow standing on top of him. I said Ok. I said What is this about officer. He said I'll ask the questions here and I told himthat if he was going to persist in that attitude he could march himselfback out into the cold and stay there until he froze to death. He said he was sorry. It seemed like he meant it. He saidExcuse me. He said Earlier today I was in the bathroom. It does not matter which onehe said. He said that as soon as he finished up his businessseveral ghosts burst into the room. Ghosts! I said.Ghosts he said. He said I said to them Disperse ghosts!This bathroom is no place for you! I said What happened next?He said that it turned out they were not ghosts at allbut men with sheets over their headsclutching automatic weapons in their sad little hands,weapons that glistened with a need to tear open some chestsand let a little light into our hearts. He saidI said What do you want? And they all just started weeping.I said Weeping? The policeman said Weeping. I said to himthat I too have at times felt so overwhelmed by the worldthat I wanted to cover my head in a sheet and just weepand weep and weep until the whole world drownedand people lived on boats and invented new ways of fishingthat used grenades or some other form of kindness,but I have never in my life tried to shoot someone in the chest over it.The policeman confided to me that the world was fullof things we could not conceive of. He said that mystery lurkedaround every corner, and that the only successful way to livewas to embrace that mystery. Then he shot himself in the faceand died. I sat there waiting for the ambulancefor what felt like days.

um ok

At my door there was a knock. It was my neighbor. My neighbor saidthat there was someone downstairs at the front door for meand so I went downstairs and I opened the doorwhere I found a policeman standing therewith about a foot of snow piled on top of him.He said Hello. He said May I come in it is cold out.I am pretty sure he was telling the truth. What is this aboutI said to him. He told me that he was on his way homeafter a busy day of upholding the lawwhen he'd gotten reports of ghosts doing inappropriate things.He said Sir, have you seen any ghosts today. I said Sort of.I said Earlier today I was in the bathroom. I said It doesn't matterwhich one. As I was finishing up my business I saidI became surrounded by ghosts. How many ghosts he saidI said About a dozen or so and he wrote that down I think.I said Anyway. I said I said to them Disperse ghosts!This bathroom is no place for you! He said Then what happenedand I told him to quit interrupting. I said They just sort of stood there for a bitand moaned. As I went to go dry my handsthey tore off their sheets to reveal that they were not ghosts at allbut grown men with assault rifles in their handsand tears in their eyes. Did they say what they wanted he asked meand I told him that they said they were searching for the purest expressionof ultimate sadness. He said With assault rifles? I said I know right?So I said I asked them Why the assault rifles? And they told methat they were planning on using these riflesto open up our heads and let a little lightinto our hearts. He said What happened next? I said Next they started weeping. The policeman said Weeping?Weeping I said. They started weeping and I left. I told himthat I found the whole situation quite confusing. I said that I too have at times felt so overwhelmed by the worldthat I wanted to cover my head in a sheet and just weepand weep and weep until the whole world drownedand people lived on boats and invented new ways of fishingthat used grenades or some other form of kindness,but I have never in my life tried to shoot someone in the face over it.And furthermore I added The face and the heart are not in the same locationThey are not even close I said. The policeman agreed.He told me that the world was full of all sorts of things we could not possibly conceive of. He said that mystery lurkedaround every corner, and that the only successful way to livewas to embrace that mystery. He said his investigations had taught him that much at least. Then he shot himself in the faceand died. I sat there waiting for the ambulancefor what felt like days.



the night is long and difficult

The best we can hope for is to just stab at the darkand hope that we cut ourselves a doorwayinto some sort of feelingthat keeps us alive for a moment longeris what the policeman told me. He was standingat the door. He told me he was investigating ghosts.There had been he said Reports of ghosts in the areaupsetting the general sensibilitiesregarding life and death. The populace he told meWas awful delicate. Had I he wanted to knowSeen any ghosts lately. I said Yes. He said Where.I said Out the window, frequently moaning or singing,bearing witness to the world like a studio audienceor a bunch of ghosts. I asked him if he had seen any ghosts. Once he said he was in the bathroom.It doesn't matter which one he said .As he came out of the bathroom stall he was surroundedon all sides by what appeared to be ghosts. He said he called outDisperse ghosts! This bathroom is no place for you! I saidWhat happened next. He said The worldis a vast and terrifying piece of excitementgiven often to the production of a hollow pitin the very center of your being. I told the policemanthat although I myself have frequently feltthat the world was covered in a vast and inescapable darknessthat was slowly suffocating me to death. I told himthat he did not answer my question. He grew quietlike people grow bones. He told methat the world was full of all sorts of thingsthat we could not possibly conceive of. He said that mystery lurkedaround every corner, and that the only successful way to livewas to embrace that mystery. Then he shot himself in the faceand died. I sat there waiting for the ambulancefor what felt like days.






Who knows. This may end up being the only record of this poem. I do not even know. But so yeah. There is this now I guess.