Pound for pound
Ounce for ounce
Tell me there’s more
I have so much
We mean it all
Tell me there’s more
I can’t console
There’s no repair
Tell me there’s more
I drink and eat
I should feel full
Tell me there’s more
I should be one
I should be all
Tell me there’s more

anticipation
mundane brain
cell amputation
weekdays built
toward bored
flogging guilt
dead med kit
needing feeding
without exit

these eyes as a fish-eyed lens
the mind’s eye turns into them
capsize belly-up again
recycle my abdomen

Winston, how do you do?
The long burn always
suited you.
Somber smoke and draw;
Cut dry but always
pulling through.
Never let the heat run out;
let time lull by and
smother fools.
Brass plume and patting snare.
Our bodies packt like
thieves with care.
Digital patterns breathe like air.
Glue cracking, splitting;
bands don’t care.
Salted earth is always fair.
Fermented stacks of
ashes bear.

I’m only still
in our bed
waiting for you,
but I guess
just your side
will have to do.

light-footed,
seeds: hidded.
green-chaired,
white-haired.
jaws: fitted,
teeth-bitted.

one ounce,
too speedy.
three loves,
for teeny.
your lies?
believing.

Cursor flashes:
there,
and not there;
there,
and not there.
It reminded me of you.
Not because you have left us,
not because you will be back.  
But, because of that little glint
that goes as quick as it appears.
My routines have been reduced
to some sort of stutter with no end.
Plural forms when singles will do;
not two leashes, one instead;
one bowl of water, one of food.
They say all dogs go to heaven,
but we don’t get to go with them.