Write while popping
Pimples and your
Work will acquire
The aggression and
Self loathing that
It needs

Time demands
A lot of man:
To be on top
Of the world
One day
And have to
Repeat success
Until death
(And even after,
If you're lucky)
Time is a
Runaway heart
Or Thomas digging
Fingers in Jesus'
Open wound

Jesus Christ! I've
never seen so
many ants in
all of Africa
let alone in an
office building,
and on a beautiful
spring Tuesday when
the flowers smell
like god

Go away-
go away and
let me regroup,
every time I think
I have it, really have
it, someone speaks
or the phone rings
and it's all lost-
all lost and forgotten
and the spark dims
and somewhere a
small man smiles
and you want to
rip it all out of ya
and start over
as a crane
in a pond

The rain's
falling again
playing its
usual sonata
but this time I
listen and listen
good
each drop's got
a different pitch
based on the
distance from the
ear to the site
of the drop which
came half a mile
from the upper troposphere
down to the particular part
of earth close enough to
resonate past the
ear drums trying
to capture the
sounds that overwhelm
the soul on a drunk
Thursday evening
with the window
open and the blinds
drawn
just a little

the unnatural crane
lifts its long neck
to the glass sky
and cries out for death

Frenzied fingers
On a Thursday
morning around 8
Or a heron
Stepping through
The orange sun