Tangental Sounds of a Recovery House

“I’m gonna go play with dese bricks and block.”

“We po’ed all that rubar over in the cut.”

“Gonna get me some ravioli.”

“Not everyone’s bad.”

“She told me I didn’t have to take the test again.”

“All ya gotta do is ask.”

“It’s all donated.”

“This tastes like vitamins.”

“There’s no can opener. There’s no knives in case someone goes crazy and stabs somebody. Nothing but plastic like the pen. Nothing but butter knives and no butter.”

“Laughter heals.”


123 4th street nw

ever been lost then found without inching?


ever felt the world tilt?


ever vibrate spacelessness?


ever stop being a miniscule

beep in a global positioning system

as you fill the agape diluted pupils

of your beloveds?


the recovery intoxicates

my heart’s gps.


no recalculations.