Enter Sandman

when I return
to you
worn
and bedazzled
laughing
in the
roar
beyond
and calling
that
indemnity
there
the sky
will unlock
the rest
of it
and if this
digresses
into the preening
of a literature
brat
then I’m
not that
worried
about it
really
because
even now
bleeding
heart
shit
sells
and if
in small
didactic
turns
we arrive
at the
cemetery
gates
and maybe
we’re hungover
shame
in our
steps
that’s poetry
and losing it
in the sun
is the kind
of singing
I do
and I like
existential
cinema
the arc
of misdirection
social
pageantry
is a way
of behaving
poorly
but a true
artist
doesn’t work
for free
though
a clean
desk
is true
leisure
I won’t
fight it
a plastic
miniature
is a real
muse
and muses
aren’t a thing
to revel
better to
blah
blah
blah
find
rare onions
in a dark code
I already
have enough
bad ideas
afterhours
where
I scratch
through
the mirror
the face
of what
I have
stared in
it seems
not believable
it’s technology
but
leave
a little
play
that’s how
the witch
told me
it’s like
surfing
dude
I can
kinda
sense
that
there is
a self-
redemption
in splayed
dandelions
not that
I’m advocating
transcendental
anything
don’t make me
laugh
because
I’m taking
horse pills
and baby’s
getting an extra $80
in tomorrow’s
paycheck
that money’s
going straight
to my ghost
you can
have it all
my empire
of dirt

PROOF OF CONCEPT

what is left
to say
about
the way value
ran
through me
drunkdialing
under what is
maybe a full moon
the words
printed on the box
half the image
off the screen
I have these
tendencies
and what can
I do
about them
really
I tried to
hold on
to things
but in the end
dreamt
I was
on a
distant wave
my intentions
were
just to
find sounds
I liked
and act
as if
I knew Hegel
his advice
to just spend
more time
in graveyards
because life
it ends
but
seriously
what holds
this life
together
is the stupidly
maximalist
production
repurposed
dark
religious
imagery
and all that weird
ghostly shit
in the background
when to
close
the thought bubble
though
that’s a different story 
I love indeterminacy
with all my
green & yellow
heart
even though
I know
it’s goofy
whatever
I’m in love 
I never thought
I would see the day
I am just
one big
glowing
endorsement
reading Leopardi
aimless again
in summer
I was saying
loneliness
is the only real
aesthetic experience
so there is maybe
still room
for the beautiful
I guess
you can
give me credit
for hitting record
I’m still trying
to figure out
the way things work
no
I get it
but at the same point
like what do you think
consciousness is?
maybe some
medium quality
screen capture
or 100%
pure water?
I dunno
it would be the worst
inside anyone else’s head
form
is content
and yeah
martini glasses
make all the difference
truly amazing
what we
can get
used to
scorpio witching
with your head
the people
with libraries
doing something else
foreshortening
is so simple
but it’s actually
very advanced
I have listened
to the rain
ok
so maybe
I napped
on the couch
silenced
my phone
once again
lost in my
own world
I’ve changed
with the technology
but I’ve always been
a little off
there’s no need
to pretend
I’m a little
materialist
another thing
about rare poetry books is
you can just throw them
on the table
and the thing about cats is 
they would eat more if they could
sometimes
I feel that way
I don’t know
what else
hard to be
pure at heart

Jon Ruseski is the author of the chapbooks Sporting Life, Neon Clouds, and most recently, Enter Sandman. He is a founder and editor of b l u s h.