is to be a fleeting,
flea-ridden faithful servant,
content and ignorant of injustice.

it is to die like a blade of grass:
ignorantly
and without much regret.

you are not a fisherman
but if you can imagine it,
the sea will swim towards
you with open arms,
singing, shifting, spitting salt
into your opened eyes.

The best people
are just the least bad people.

You can touch my body,
but never me.

The reality is:
I spend all my time avoiding it.

the captain
of the S.S. box
steers her ship
into murky waters.
here comes a fish;
she eats it.

value people’s time
break people's clocks

ask for forgiveness
not for permission

recognize your emotions
******* again

fur crusting over with blood,
entrails pouring from a gap
in its gut, the cat laid supine
with an indiscernable
emotion frozen on its face.
georgia watched from behind us,
crossing-uncrossing her arms.
Is he dead yet, are you done?
i thought so, but prodded it
to be sure. some blood seeped out;
it lay still as the surrounding air.
Gentler with the knife, she said.
i responded, Why’s it matter,
it’s dead, you know? and stabbed it.
‘*** you’re gonna make me cry!
No use crying over it,
i said; she cried for a while.