when you catch yourself staring out the window

eyes tracking snowflakes. counting the seconds.

searching for meaning in seasonal change

looking for patterns spiraling in any direction but
                                                                ­                                down

seeing the sky’s just ******* hallmark card covers

when it’s half past one and you’re

wishing
wishing
wishing for

that snow

to bury

the campus. the people. the ******* assignments.

in something so cold it stings your fingers into feeling
enough to dig out of self-inflicted snow drifts

in something so bright and white that it
washes the grey stains from your eyes

when you let it go let it go let it go
and sit on the slushy side walk – only frozen
but without the ******* feel-good Disney songs
that happily work out ever after
in the happiest place on earth
when you don’t even care enough to finish the poem.

don’t.

In Spain -
where cheese-making stretches back
to centuries
is a medium sized lump of
Sweet ******* Christ

blessed is the ******
whose womb merited to carry
our small herd of
hand-milked cows
providing milk, cheese, butter, and ice

and to Christians,
the lamb is the symbol of when
the pope and all the christian leadership
will be succeeded by
Moo Jesus

The Good Shepard draws not milk
not liquid from his sheep
but
an overview over Greek pagan
and Christian pastoral deities

then Christ went and
made the exorcism and
he sold in town all his
rriegitha cheese, his curds, his milk

I mentioned that The Green Sheep
had an ad coming out
in the body and blood of Christ
how could the shepherds resist
the temptation?

I was refusing the sacraments
mysticism is cheese
Christ is cheese
better still,
mountains of cheese!

Is your cheese killing the planet?
The Wedding of the Dead:
Celebration and Restraint
Christ stopped at Ebola

floating mid kitchen
with tiny bass beats
pulsing past plates
with orange razor lines
mixing to yellow green smoke
and swirling round my face
caressing touch
memory's ghost

focus needle sharp and glowing
piercing the rare white winter calm
of my mind at rest
like a ray of too bright to see sunlight
too hot to do anything but set
the edges of conscious thought ablaze
where they blacken and burn fast
curling inwards with steady flames
roiling over ashen fingers grasping at
the long forgotten Morpheus's throat
prying wide the sleeping god's eyes
fastened open by Prometheus's chains
Hades, Tartarus, eternal penance,
for bringing inspiration into this
dark human world
the price I paid in sleep for grades