Good luck (for Monday)

There's a poise
A cautious tremor
(focus)
Hovering in the voice next to me

On the phone
He sets up a business appointment
Except when he hangs up the conversation
I realise he's just asked somebody out
On a date
(is this assertive)
Say, on Monday?

Courage then, amidst disquiet;
Wearing a scarf and cuboid
Black woolen coat in a heat wave
Says something
About blind properness as habit
Perhaps unthinkingly a launch against misfortune:
Defended

Nobody that young
Carries around their possessions
In an M&S bag
Held with perpendicular intent at the side
I guess (or hope) his books
Are in size order
To protect the longevity of both
- because it's just good sense

While I'm lazy as a window sill with a book of stairs, a pillow
There he strides away;
From a mission accomplished
By minutes

Maybe his back doesn't ever
Move with his arms as he walks
Or maybe he just wears good shoes

Over

Under caverns move
Stars on an unlikely shell
The house of autumn's bell
Crest and dented in magnetic driven sand

A shore crossed with footfall
Mirage
Journey into the west
This exo-cabin
Ex of a giant creature's distant sleep
Belongs to straw fields
Wealth that crept up behind us
The descending party
Of night-fall years ago that I remember

Is this?
Life wanders around in synaptic patterns
Forms circles within a heavy snail's home
Smart characters of
Exhilation
Awaken a
Daddy long legs long in breath
Well-read between pages of the time it takes to be dead
But alien in a bottled world
It cannot fly away from

Here
A click is life and death together
Beneath the carbon echo drone
Neither burn alive but for the shapes of numbers repeated
Nor rightfully expired; I try to forget
But virtual memory makes everything a trade
Ink seems to cower from

The worms cannot dream under it
New conversations flow
Without gathering dust or settle
But where's the mettle
In only ever saying 'I know'?

Hyperlink beyond the recent
Walls the sea knew better than I and time
Saw them built and yet decline

So: I did
But do not now for knowing
Wage sharpened war against roof the and run out into nothing
Hope for
Some fluid architecture
To build my eyes again in difference
And the tactile scattering of rain
For without death to be over