Unhappiness creeps
on the spine like spider’s feet
too late to smash it

Cows meandering
through yellowed autumn grasses
the world’s groundskeepers.

Baja fish taco
Bad phrase for poetry, good
culinarily

Just one class today
succeeded by morning rain
how fast I forget

Say: the past is dead
I want nothing to do with it
while you’re here instead

Morning fog descends
why should I write of seasons
if nothing is new

Memories drape like
cobwebs on old furnishings
spiders in their nooks

Encircled by strangers
brushing a body feels like
static in winter

In Heresville, you can
walk to the edge of the world
within the hour

“Your life is boring”
and so? It’s not like I was
given another.

Pry into me please
I won’t know unless someone
else does it for me

I look away
find a hole in my vision
unyielding lamplight