the robin came down as he cleared the ground,
all red chest, pretty eyes.

we discussed the earth, rich now, without
the stones. we could grow potatoes as they
did here in the war. i have the photograph.

these are fortunate times, while have disliked
the tuber since the flu struck.

there has been a lot of it this year here.

we plan a pretty little greenhouse, all white
with embellishments, red geraniums.

the robin watched, i am told he will like mealworms.

sbm.

When next you see me travel
Do not ask if I will stay

I've not the time for talking
You'll not get the time of day

My time, my dear, is money
With such worth, I'd nary trust her

My words, you'll heed, are golden
Your two cents, mere bronze, lack luster

Fit the bill, you do not
Of cases I will juggle

A blind man could see with either eye
Pettiness is your struggle

Complaints of yours, I'll not hear one
For requests, I lack forbearance

Ask a favor, don't you try
Charity's beyond my inherence

Those paws you clinch, you'll also wash
Dare you raise a fist to me

Your filth exudes; nay, it disgusts
Mealworms out-shine thee

So step off, peasant, you've done enough
Of this wasting of my breath

Be gone now,  & clear of sight
Lest thou wish for their own death

"Your majesty" I shall be addressed
No more else should such **** say

And when next you see me travel
Do not ask if I will stay

Fresh air hitting newborn lungs
lodged in a memory
made of mealworms.

Chalking dirt between
serrated incisors.

The day I asked a new girl to be my girlfriend
you left a note at my house signed "love,"
telling me you were infinitely sorry.

Some things just don't have an explanation.

There is a knife in my throat
chalking chords between scratched teeth,
words ground down to chunks of flesh,
they never last,
taste like the last
of something we had.

When I kissed your face
in my bedroom
there was no golden crust of light
you gave me head
and I didn't ***,
over the next year I fell in love
it tasted
like blood in my mouth
there is a knife
in my throat,
you placed it delicately
as if you'd be back
to pull it out
with hands still warm
from
spreading another's pulse
and stroking down the center
with one finger.

I said all the words I knew
hoping you'd hear some you liked,
I made a collage of spittle
and stringy voice box
from my insides you didn't come back
so your note
is noted but there is no "us" curled up
in grand central station,
no eyes glowing,
and there is nothing left to say, but

it hurt in a way I was not ready to know
and came
from a direction
I had never believed in.

Thanks for the golden days,
most of them were,
i'm sorry I crumpled so easily
I don't think i'll ever be the same,
that's a good thing
but you had to know you had to know
what I didn't
and someday you'll grow up,
it'll hurt,
it's worth it.

But goodbye meant goodbye.

No supplements for him
poor sparrow in the depths of despair
they just chatter and pecking at him
with no remorse or care

He limps to my window
he does chirp to come in
and I pick up his frail body
for me and him are now kin

I give him mealworms and tea
tell him don't worry I ingest the same you see
and with tears in my eyes
I lay one of compassion on his head

I tell him as I always do
get dark thoughts out of your head
for in less than a hundred years
all will here be dead


By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris