another one about mud

there might be people
still using it   
                     oh, nevermind
the rubber mat
over the doorstep

it's only there to cultivate
the mud
              that has no stench
only color
the color of decayed potential

a steady drain on battery life
the slow decline
                           of bolt and latch
sink of boot and shoe
never to meet what is
                                   hidden
beneath.

life of vols.

uneven, yellow gut, bound scuffed leather skin,
stretched to weaken, stuck with ancient glue,
chipped, dry, chipping;

                                      facing up to white tile
heaven, several infernal layers high;

                                                           beat to shit
by clumsy groping fingers, oil years, oil, years
oil, grease, ignored;

                                 edges fold, looking back,
locked in place, time, stance, break, spinal
snap, rest on floor, under shoes, weathered away,
running from, removed, broken home;

                                                               only the word
holds meaning, printer pressed, scanned and saved,
backed up, addressed, renamed, right on digital screen
tossed spent to metal cans, endless shape, or leaning
lost totems on dusty shelf.