.




























                                                                            ****'s ******.












































                                                                                                                                                                              .

they (mom and sister) asked me
if i was starving myself
but when they did
they smiled and
sort of giggled and
from that moment
on, i realized that
they really just
dont care about
me one
bit.

sa
yn
ota
wor
dor
)don


           'ts

a




                       ya




                 words
                     m
                   o
                    u
                   t
                    h(h
                        o
                           W)about
                          how
                            in
                        winter

                           slep
th
ard
ly a
letter
ofy
ourbody.but

(with a verb i
                    you
                    the aching
                    and all the birds
                    of a forest
                    
                    leapt

                       from





                          SLUMBEr



                          and rose






                          upon







                            the crimp

                            of darling youth





                             a flower,



                                 ,


                                          .



                               ,



                   ,



                                          .

let's be pretty
inpurple
(your eyes)i'll

your throat(and
)how

           about it?

with the nuzzling
of my love fist, baby?ican

make you pretty



                                 ,baby?and i

can kiss you,

                       dear.doyou

want it













          ?

kiss fingers hotly each
march wise
silked in
the fair health of autumn dying

(dying autumn lives so
dying and it hotly
body decays in petals
of orange and brown) up

leans the quick back of
and a mountain suddenly

where thickly flits a doe

between trees dying
she.

the and

You should get over yourself
You're a tiny part in my story
Almost insignificant
Really quite boring

I have a life
Outside of the world of us
And it's rather complicated
By you, I am not crushed

I'm more lively
And realize what's important
I possess real friends
My love was just something I lent

I haven't moved on
Because there's nothing to move on from
You don't occupy my mind
Get out of your delirium

I've nothing against you
No feelings, no grudge
I'm rather indifferent
And that feeling won't budge

I live every day
With someone else
He's what I want and need
You're just someone on a shelf

I wish for you a happy life
And I'll think about you fondly
But that's as far as it'll go
Please don't take this wrongly

you were always so strong,
always holding on to what was left
of us
or what you wanted to be left
from us, our trademarks
our skid marks our triumphs
and our failures

you were always strong,
strong enough to hold us both together
even if I kept making us fall down
and I'm sorry, I really am sorry
for being that piece of paper
which couldn't stick to the glue

and I'm sorry for being the odd man out
and I'm sorry

for doubting that you weren't strong
I'm *sorry

The answer it appears,
Not.

For this exercise,
Of filtering life thru eyes poetic,
24/7, is an equation, with a single constant,
Eyes wide shut.

They would sleep,
If they but, could record their dreams,
Precisely, securely.

Absent that assurety,
Without that guarantee,
Sleep verboten, lest a single poem
Escape unrecorded.