ugly frail
Always ugly

Large deer problem
In our little town
Thy dart out into traffic
And at times you can see
The fear in their eyes
They are eating human food
Left out by town-folk
It's getting so bad
The town decided they'd
Put up signs
They addressed the signage
To the deer warning them
Not to eat human food
Long story short
The deer are livid and have taken
To spraying the signs with graffiti

I miss the sound of snow crunching under my brown boots,
walking back to her, my friend—
Friends; people who, for goodness,
We beat and live and cheer each other,
cheer in the midst of our shattering, the fall-down,
and the rise—

and I was walking back to her,
my dearest,
dearest friend.

What happens to poetry
When it only exists
While it’s drunk?

Hello, 6 a.m.
Today you look the the six year old
who wrote stories.

She knocks on my door sometimes,

and I live in fear of her,
because she cries and it makes sense--

and I just can't think about it.
I can't think about it.