at the bus stop with a juice box
and a heart full of love.
on the pavement an arrangement
of impersonal hugs.
how i miss you when im with you
and what it used to be like.
over blue ice saying white lies
ill be quiet tonight.

The little cat sat in the window
She was watching the snow falling outside
This was her first winter

The little cat

Inside was at all Christmas tree
It was decorated with bright lights and ornaments
The lights and sunlight made them glimmer
At times it looked like they were covered with diamonds

The little cat

The little cat loved to look at them and sit under the tree
She had never experienced the magic before
Recently she had been adopted

The little cat

As she sat at the window she had a deep feeling of contentment
The snow began to gently fall outside
As she watched the scene outside she heard faint music
She closed her eyes to listen
She was grateful for her new home and owners

The little cat

I feel like Goya's dog
Staring at nothing
But terrified all the same
Contemplating the void
Apportioning blame
Some think he's scoping out
Two little birds
And if they did land
He surely would lurch
Others think his target
Is an unfinished figure
That got lost in the transfer
Twixst plaster to paper
And that's the rub
With all the black paintings
You lose a bit o meaning
When technology is
Updating.

Nobody likes a ****,
They told me right out front.

Ice and cold and snow
E I E I O
I wander to and fro
Struggling

Yoko yo yo yo yo
I'm no Romeo
Stanley and Zero
Teaching

No one will ever know
One man come and go
One man to Overthrow!
Seeking

Hello how you doin where you bin what you doin when was the last time I saw you how's it bin where you bin how'd it go when did we last talk about life what's over there do you care what's the point where you spending the Christmas can you believe the strabismus of this ***** version o where we should be she  ovs not happy on this side o the ***** but why can't she just leave us alone?

Why is there something
Rather than nothing?
Followed swiftly by
What is there
And what's it like?
The sound of one hand clapping
And does a fish really need a bike?
The silence of falling forest trees
Two sets o footprints become one
An old lady and a serpent
A prodigal has his fun
Cast thy bread upon the water
And then times that by ten
Don't be counting them
Precognitive chickens now
Like some optimistic hen.