the silent of the night, is so serene
in this cold stillness, flue vapors
tickle the darkness, trails disappear

mounds of snow, piled high
slowly melt from underneath
waiting for the daylight sun
help to nourish the frozen ground

occasionaly, racoons, nights burgulars
slueth silently, scrounging for scraps
naked trees branches, fingers reach
sun's rays flex them in the breeze

patchwork of inkling green and brown
amongst the receding white
dusk of winter, slowly fades
gives way to spring, rebirth

the mezcal incident, now
that was surely one doozy/
started out with a shot of Patrone
no lime or salt at ten in the morn'/
at this strip joint in Wicksburg
where they advertise
two hot babes three skinny one's
and one big mama,
on their marquee, which is one of
those lighted portable signs plastic letters things
the kids like to vandalize by
like on the Natural Light Deliverance Tabernacle
I minister at occasionaly, we have one of those ,
had In God We Trust , lettered on it on saturday.
Sunday, at eleven, when we arrived for worship ,
it said in dogs  we gust,
limited letters to arrange so,
I got the teen hoodlum gyst/
I ramble on so much, wouldn't
blame you
if you lost interest,
but anyways/
this day, what I mentioned early in this,
started out fairly innocent, a drink
a gander at female utilitarianism,
and a shot,
thing about tequila
sitting down you don' t know how ****** up you are
get up, try to stand and wow!
I keep digressing,
that day
hell I ******* forgot/
Sorry to lead you on.

I keep a cruel collection
of wicked torture devices.
Gathered together
in a faux manila folder,
labelled with a crudely crafted symbol
of birth to death
oppression.
I occasionaly use them
to flay my gray matter.
And as I stare
at the visual razorblades
and white, hot, pokers,
I can't help but think:
is anyone else using my image
for similar, sinister purposes?
And if so, I wonder,
should I be appalled, or flattered?

I wake up
The perfect imbalance waiting for me
                                          The judge speaks
“Did you love?”
                  Yes, but not how you wanted me to love
                   Not in a way that would make them happy
                  In a way that was mine- and only mine
                  And though I wanted to scream I never made a sound
“Did you hate?”
                  Oh, with all my heart,
                   But never for long and I would
                   Forgive and forget and forgive and forget
                   And I would direct the hate inwards above all
                   Untamed and with no remorse
“Do you pray?”
                   Occasionaly, though not to a god, for they never listen
                   Not even to the saints or the holy spirit.
                    I learned my lesson a long time ago. I pray nevertheless.
“Do you deserve to be saved?”
                    I don’t know
                    To be perfectly honest I wouldn’t save myself
                    But some would give up anything to save me
                    And I can’t omit that

I wake up.

My camera clicks a little
less these days.
It doesn't forget that we are
no longer young.
The years we spent
kissing under trees, stretching
our limbs out to the sun,
skin crisping, blistering,
then peeling. Are gone.
We thought we were
solid and stern, that
we could easily hold off
the gusts of time. Now
we sleep most of the day.
Occasionaly, we take a walk
(in the shade) the trees have
aged too, but they still
stand proud. We are
more like a branch
it's cast off in the wind.
My finger pauses
over the shutter, I
want to mark this
moment, to see if
the picture is less
kind once it's
taken.

DAYS DO TELLUS HOW TO THINK
ON OCCASIONALY WE GET PAID BEFORE A LONG WEEKEND
OR IS THIS A TEST FOR VALUE AGAINST WORTH
AGAINST THE ADVERSARYS REBIRTH

YOU KNOW THE LAST YOU THE ONE WHO WAS MAKING LIFE BETTER WHILE YOU FIXED THAT IN REINCARNATION AST TIME OU STEPPED ON SAND

LISTEN WE DONT LIVE WITH OUR HEADS IN SAND
OR ON LAND
PERCIPITATION LOOKS CLEAR WHEN IM WATCHING A SHARK FLOAT BY MY HAND

VAST BUT CORRECT THEY TEACH IN HAVOC
AND ANNA
RAVANNA
ALL THE SISTERS OF HAVANA
MAYBE WHITE IN A REINCARNATION HIDDEN FIGHT

HATS GLASSES MEN IN BOXES
TALKING LIKE HISTORY FREAKS IN 80'S MUSIC TV AND NEWS

THIS WAS PROPHESIED MONEY WONT BUY YOU CLUES
IT LIVING AND KNOWING
WALKING AND SHOWING

CAUSING EFFECT RUMI THROUGH YOUR REMAINS OF ART
KEEP SAFE WITH SPEECH
KNOWING THAT THEY WATCH YOU LIKE THEY WATCH THEM
TURN OFF THE TV GO FOR A WALK
HAVE THAT GODLIKE ONE ON ONE TALK