The first time around,
We didn't plan,
We talked in tomorrows,
Because we knew it would end.

Yet on our second go,
We planned it all out,
Now we talk in years,
Because I only have to wait seven more,
Before I can put a ring on your pretty finger,
Though for now that's fantasy.

Rain is pouring,
Ive never liked the rain.
It ruins beautiful days,
Leaving its gloomy stain.

I’ve never liked the rain,
It pulls me into bed.
The rain drowns it all out,
And I end up trapped in my head.

I’ve never liked the rain,
And the way it makes me feel.
How could I like something so pitiful,
I’ll never see its appeal.

I’ve never liked the rain,
Writing this poem, I now see.
I’ve never liked the rain,
Because rain is like me.

Life is a kind of torment
Rarely, rarely at ease
Please for my sons
Happiness, hope


      Prayers for the Pope

cat — or the echo
of some old philosopher
dreaming through small lungs.