Pregnant father sways
rocking chair to oceans' gait
champions patience's race

Spoiled centerpiece at table's edge
red apples turned a dull brown
grapes withered and wrinkled
like the hand that lay motionless
sprinkled with drywall dust
tv screams in neutral static
the only surviving kitten suckles it's lifeless mother's ****** in vain
the burning corn fields crackle and snap
the skies turn a smokey haze
before the Sun disappears on schedule
somewhere along the road
Grandpop and Joe are in the truck
with melted ice cream
they were bringing back from town

while driving up the coast on rt. 101 the other day
i happened to look out of the passenger window
and saw this
  weird
patch of sea
that was -still- and utterly

p l  a c i   d.

ebb and flow had become
  static nebula mirror,
penetrating the
apparent
blue sky lie; and my sad looking eyes,
were, now, less observing:
looking through  

g l a s s melt

and: my rotted heart composted forth
the most beautiful lilies wi l t ing;
its petals falling
upward
into the glinting red circle circled in the mirror below it.

i've never been able to
  fit in
anywhere, not really -- not with friends, not with family, and
not with

lovers.

me: freak; lots of leaks; knees hugged; tears, none left.

my superpowers consist of
hours

w a s t e d

awkwardly.
boxed in by this, my silly imaginarium.

i feel so small.

i mean, after all, my
heart
is missing from my chest.

i am
  eater of space: plenum

for
  your
plenty.

foxes are hyenas of the north,
i don't know
whether they feed or
do otherwise,
when they dry cackle their
onomatopoeias
that i imitate with laughter
once a while;
but they do sound congregational:
so much so that i would expect
an european to be a better import
than god to american society;
but the sounds of the night
that come from these gingers
seemingly laughing:
foxes are hyenas of the north.