the red glow of her cigarette.
the fingers of her left hand
yellow  with nicotine
clutching dying flowers

"buy a rose for your lover," she says,
"buy one for your wife. buy 2."

"the flowers are wilted."

"maybe it's your eyes that are wilted.

she had black hair
black as the night
the violent night
and gray eyes
the shade of ***** ice

"you must love
someone,
some of the time, no?
put a rose on
your father s grave, then."

"love is like lost pennies
falling from a broken jar."

she smooths her hair with one pale,
long, fingered hand, "you re crazy."

"my mom says so."

i was born to
have adventure

I followed her up the steps.

i was born to chase the night
through the forest
of dead roses.

I was a bird
پرنده ای بودم
In the sky
From your eyes...
...در آسمانی از چَشمانِ تو
When you didn't see me flying
در آن هنگام
که پروازم را حس نمی کردی

Why are your eyes so beautiful?!
چرا چَشمانِ تو آنقدر زیباست!؟
That I released the lock of hair
To your wide blue sky...
که من موهایم را
...در آسمانِ پهنِ آبیِ تو رها کردم

Commonness of the flowers  -
virtuous insignificance,
invoking visions of royalty
for ants, and snails, and such,

How trivially contests mankind,
what costumes their children wear,
while, silently, a bulbous sun
sidles across the sky.

A haggard angel
Stands behind my back.
Is it me or you?
For three decades
She had graced me
With words of love
And fits of anger.
I helped create her
And yet hurt her .
And suddenly, she turns
Away from me,
Still loving me, I think.
But all she wants,
She tells me bitterly,
Is to be alone.
She leaves and I wonder
If she will ever return.
I stand on a garish train,
Thunderstruck, unmoving,
As I watch her storm away.
Suddenly, I feel what she does—
The pain and sadness.
I created her long ago
And know why she is livid.
And now she returns the hurt,
Leaving me as the empty one,
My insides vacuum up sorrow.
Am I now the angel,
Fallen and haggard?

Captured beneath
the low lying cloud

Rocking my world,

Let there be no
flags in the world unfurled

Summer sunshine
leaving behind

A low-lit world
giving us a sign

Canada and America have their differences from Eh to Zee

At the barroom playing darts
it's all fun and games until
someone loses an eye

Sitting in the executive boardroom
it's all fun and games until
someone loosens a tie