a man's house

this castle is an hourglass
with beaches seeping under the doors
clever particles camouflaged in the ceramic grid

and the sons of the fathers bear the sins of their fathers
and track the plague on the bottoms of old shoes
because if there is only one new pair a year
they might as well be inhabited

something so simple as shoes need to have a reason
but they walk in the yard with no feet and hide like
we need games to play so near death

there is a reminder spreading across my skin like a storm cloud
it's purple-gray and threatens to remove the whole universe
all the while i hear soft strokes of the catalyst
swishing across plain paper canvas just behind me

expression is so much more important than food
in this place where we make too much money to expect any handouts
they take what they can knowing nothing comes cheap
and i give to every black hole like destruction might create life

somewhere behind some magnolia wall someone is sleeping
softly sustaining selfish dreams in an effort to sidestep the guilt
sometimes words mean nothing to a person that asks so little

our possessions are proof that we conquered something
and battles rage when you step outside your territory
there are no queens among these thieves
the women tend to give it all away

the sand is cutting my eye, and filling my lungs
but when i wake and the hour is gone
i can turn it upside down again