Funny how we woke up in the morning
and pretended that tomorrow never happened—
strutted naked in mirrors celebrating our youth,
laughing, knowing suns and moons couldn’t do the same.

We borrowed our arms from the fridge
and peddled bicycles with bad breath—
trading war stories ‘cause we knew
if we came back alive
life would still be the death of us.

Here is a glass of water from my well.
It tastes of rock and root and earth and rain;
It is the best I have, my only spell,
And it is cold, and better than champagne.
Perhaps someone will pass this house one day
To drink, and be restored, and go his way,
Someone in dark confusion as I was
When I drank down cold water in a glass,
Drank a transparent health to keep me sane,
After the bitter mood had gone again.

Four wood legs below me reinforce my rear
The suns rays sear off of this white haze called snow
A glum graveyard of brown surrounds my whole home
Two filthy cigarette butts are staring me in the eye
Like a cats eyes luminating in the middle of the night
And I’m wondering why I wonder these thoughts.
****, its hard to caress all the thoughts I possess.
Broken from bewilderment by a lone gray hare
I scared it and it scattered up the short, steep hill.

*Walks inside because the frost is nippin’ his nose

I just need something new to twist up my life,
But every time something comes even close
Imagination defeats reality and all hope is lost.
Trying to find even the slightest bit of hope
Is like picking hope out of a crowd of pick-it signs
Nearly impossible, but the sign is still out there.
Suddenly reminded of the graveyard of brown outside
I recall glancing at a row of three green pine trees
And realize, they keep life all year round
Even when times have grown cold
And fellow friends have lost life.
Knowing they will survive
They strive to keep hope.