Bobo the Bonobo

skegs and rudders

just a gardener looking for a place to plant seeds.

careful consideration of signs

and our eagerness to disobey them

another gloomy monday afternoon

flowers on the side of 101 in bloom.

it's a ghost town full of sounds

no one knows what went down.

golden hills in a golden state

driving to an eternal vanishing place.

if on an even numbered freeway the sun refracts in an odd manner. Reflect in an appropriate and similar way.

where you going?

who you been?

what you seeing?

why you fleeing?

when you leaving?

unfolding—so it goes

you're always ready for a photograph looking out for what isn't there. a cut in the line, jarred and misplaced. stacks of uselessness. hanging around for dozens of reasons when actually it's one. headers and footers make us up with constraints.

fortunes of the day accidentally discriminating

what important facts do we remember the day by

the forgotten forget their days

waiting for instructions that never arrive

makeshift gifts give good vibrations

we're always moving towards the fall

the weight of the water. breaking. california. funeral. listeners. news of new year resolutions and you don't keep it real you make it. days of (im)balance

reading books of matches

and I miss the way you swung the hatchet

cutting things down

shift of usual riff

contemplation in bus and train stations

missing matching socks

longing for friends, forever gone

imperfect, unique, feelings

looking around, suspicious