Weak against that lost embrace
Frost streaks of ash-hot pain
Collect in your cracks
Dilapidated corners leak each dripping moment
Can I be lost in distant dreams all this time?

****** castanets -
Floors sprinkled with shrapnel
Under the dancer's skirt -
A broken guitar
Holding a flaccid hand
Midstrum
In it's hollow mouth -
Scattered sheets of unedited poems
Stained with spattered flecks of brain -
Broken bottles
In puddles of Chartreuse and Campari
Congealing onto corpses
Slouching at the bar -
Jackboots kicking the viscera from their path -
Searching for a poet's mortal coil
So it can be shuffled
Into the pyre of ideologues and deviants
Protecting the oppression of this fleeting order.

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

and all the baby crickets chirp
I got the daisies planted and then appeared
numerous
red black bugs
swarming the daises the elderberry bushes
the crickets just watched all the festivity
like who are they they are not me
that is cricket talk  
especially when young
and the boxelder bugs in
swarms respond
in red black harmony of numbers
it is we the red black bugs of sap suckering
I chuckled
the crickets responded
by rubbing their back legs together
almost like
applause

I think they laugh at me
Maybe because I'm strange
Could I be a somebody
Or is that a bit deranged

Can't they see I'm the same
I bleed just like they do
They treat me as if I'm lame
Ignoring me is their rule

So are you picking on the disabled
Thinking we're not fit to work
Because you wonder if I'm able
To be like everyone else who work

I never asked to be this way
I try to forget that horrid past
Not thinking of that terrible day
I wish that memory faded fast

I'm human, I am not someone lower
I'm human, stop knocking me down
I'm human, so I might be slower
I'm human, now put away that frown

I sat up all night
and thought about you,
darling,
and your lips
and hands
and the curve of your hips
and the way you pronounce things
and all the simple
tiny
idiosyncrasies
that embody you
and how I'll never again be able
to see those lips
and hands
and hips
without thinking of
the bitter contrast between
summer's warmth
and
winter's harsh bite.

The Devil asked me
Sell your soul
For the love of your life
And I laughed as I replied
*Maybe if I had it
But she already stole it