my windows are covered
so the cardinal will feed her
chicks tonight; and not fly,
head first, into a blind
meeting with death.

it is strange that I find you here
unpopulated
w/o a bottle of ***** and orange
juice in backpack
w/o a ukulele in hand with which
I would sing about
drinking alone and my
******* roommates.
with the moon close
to the fretboard
and the electric lit windows
of the residence halls
like constellations
closer.

If only we were the executioners of our downfall
that would be a fitting windfall, and
a rollover on the lottery
win

as death grins on the side lines
I
remember the good times
sharpening the axe.

the rain receded before
the sun crept her hands up
to the yielding skirt of ice and
snow on the ground.
I could put my boots on,
go outside,
crank music and
oscillate wildly
to distorted synths.
it’ll drive the neighbor men
crazy.  coax a shotgun
warning.  better yet, I’ll grind
my *** on their windows,
pressing my cheeks to the glass
taking their eyes off those
50 inch tvs.  they’ll lumber out
wide-eyed and open-mouthed
at the pale peach outside
and its inebriated rhythm.
we will turn this arabesque
of morning into an open air
dance club, complete with
mixed drinks and molly.
ours is a sad cul
de sac if only the trees
are allowed to oscillate
wildly.  it’s not a place
for nanoloops.

legislature.  no
music to it. another
endless distraction.

One dozen migratory Black-and-white Warblers lay
like fallen piano keys on the sidewalk in front
of a 14-story glass constructed building;
I watched as the janitor swept
them into the street.

I am 24
this is new for me.
I can't hang
it around my neck
like a silver
star of david.
it doesn't follow me
around like
a tame rhinoceros.
I am 24
and I don't know
what to do with it.
why don't you
take my 24.
if there's a penny
in your pocket
you'll have
a quarter and 
there's nothing
you can't do
with a quarter.