How horrible the plot
the hem, the haw
of the incessantly violent
torture ****
   How sad the politic
the row, the scorn
the media howl, the noise
the storm
           We are drifting in a sea
         of bobble head puppets
         backstabbing, mass murdering
         mask-faced tyrants
         and we are loosing the battle
         before it's even begun
            So go ahead now
         and trade in your votes
         sell off your rights
         buy a backfiring gun
            Because nothing is worse
         than trying to reverse evolution
         and you can't crawl back
         into the womb of your Mother
         once you've destroyed
         the primordial ooze
         of creation's lubrication
         for a dollar and a cheapened dream's
         inflation

Atop a fresh
fall of snow

a blood red
cardinal

awaits
spring.

It is five-thirty a.m.
I step outside for
the newspaper,

not four feet away
a raccoon sits on
its haunches like

a paunchy Buddha,
smiling as only liars
and sick animals

can; I toss a half
eaten piece of bacon
between  its  legs, pick

up the paper,
back away,
away.

i fell in hole i just couldn’t get out of
i let my thoughts be spoken aloud. love,
just tell me the truths that i’ve never heard,
and i’ll write you some pretty songs about birds

(or something.)  but, i wonder how you would ever treat my scars
the light inside the world is bright but i still feel dark
(inside.) but in all of these moments i just reminisce
about the ones i can’t help but miss.

and i’m on fire, fire, fire. x2

but you make me want to live in this one moment
with your leather jacket, with your arms wide open.
there’s something to you, and the gravel inside your voice,
when you say to me ‘hey, i love you’ like i never had a choice.

and i guess i could fly in those space ships that glow,
but with my luck they will crash and burn like apollo.
you’re a bicycle and i just need learn how not fall,
but the taste of grass isn’t bad and it feels kind of soft.

i don’t mind the burn, the burn, the burn. x2

i’m a bubblegum babygirl, so pink i feel just like lace,
but i’m stained, and impure, yeah you can see it on my face.
and i do believe in god, i promise i do,
but i'm really wanting to lose all religion somewhere quiet with you.

everything is colored in a seafoam like green.
when i’m not even in the ocean i’m somewhere in between
heaven and hell and the dumpster we call earth,
but i don’t think you’re trash for whatever it’s worth.

and i’ve burned into ash, ash, ash x2

feathered dreams float into our closed fists somehow,
and while we’re wondering why,
they poke holes into our palms and crawl
into our bloodstream.

If that night could remember
it would call him back
to our Chinese restaurant
to fried rice and steaming tea
to our winter refuge of tile and cushions
60s retro black and white
Chrome legs of lacquered tables
with its mural of
our Great Wall

...winding, distant, wonder

If the snow hadn't muffled all
but our voices
we would not be—

so alone

Only I
felt his arm take its chance
around my shoulder
Guiding warmth
as good excuse as any
to touch

Two miles on foot
An arc in time
In lace of white
to hide— what might....

Below my window
“Good Night”
not enough
for troubadour
singing, pleading, stumbling...

(I worry about his long way home)

...and hardly notice...

How gently Time joins Snow
as if they cannot bare
instead, conspire
Decide the crystals
Send the flakes to sift over him

This loss needs snow
to blur his face
to fade from view....

This— tender let-down from the sky
As only snow can do...

Cover with beauty

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6o6zMPLcXZ8