not one
of the moon's mystic seas is filled
with their yelping  

though those
haunting harmonies save me from solitude  
on the naked prairies

the sky, cold, awash
with wispy clouds, carries their sour song,
a dirge no creatures emulate

like they, I howl at the proud wolf moon;
it ignores me as it does them, but  ‘tis regally round
for only a blink in time, then mournful
as it wanes to penumbra  
in earth’s shadow

the wild dogs and I
cease our serenade, but wait in darkness
to cast another refrain when the ornery orb again
filches the dying sun’s light

He's hunkered down
for the night,
I know this toasted
do-not-disturb-me
duvet-bundled shape.

I won't disturb him
though he snores,
grunts, filches
more duvet from
my half of the bed.

His hair's
too boyishly tousled
on the pillow,
his familiar spine
so purpose-built

for lying
beside, nuzzling
against, sneaking
my arm around
in the dark.

Hollow words ****! Eat the egg by the pound
Now the garish middle trees are supporting falling off the ridge
Dare we go on with this dredge
Like a lightbulb a canon filches the purse
Byron you wrote you write
Every substantiatable corn
Harp harp on the nails digging into the digable ground
Not like the pillow filled with clouds is the
Syringe tinted
Immobile tank last windows breath sank
Lycan depose
Merry hard rot and decompose
Songs of worth and old
Diametrically opposite to the
World on its toes
Blalala let the intern take his copy of its book to the marlin fishing grounds where the floodbanks roar over the waters and the tree leaves sank into the gravel patterns brave little capitol letters
Hee hah hee hah
Tripe and tripe on the wheels of Atlantis
You’re exposed! Naw
Thought and thoughted that the world was a cup
Believe a word and your life could be ruined
Believed their words now my life is ruined
Have I now peddled the unmistakable
And I ask, “But can truth be sold?”
While a million others stole by