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null set to one so as not to mean anything
to understand.

single took a hit– bad press– lost sight of the charts,
dragged the album into the pits.
how does the singer turn it around?

full-bodied roast rounded out the morning
gave tone to thoughts administered
to break the day,
put heat on the cool kids
to shake off the night but not the before.

getting here was a stretch.
took some effort
but after years of giving in
it was worth it
to see who’s what
                and how
                quickly the young
                refuse
                to believe in the dreams
                the dust
                once shared with moonlight
as crickets recorded tracks
                with the stars,
                                the pillow
took sweat on one side
                and on the B,
it was all good.

windows weren’t cleaned
                so each room
                could have its own version
                                of aging.

nothing seems to be the only thing that changes.
been changing since nothing exploded into
the pilot of this series of life
and the case of the mysterious
ability to adapt.

less is less but enough
to invent
wonder’s dragging feet
from burial grounds
bullied by sunlight
despairing
in muddy sweat
with eyes – blackened as shadows
looking down
from gravestones
with words carved
till forever is forgiven.

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Kenning JP García is an antipoet and diarist.

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