don't be a poltergeist that goes bump in the night;
can't catch you on film if you put up a fight.
i know ghosts that can scare, but that's about it.
what are you gonna do? frighten me to death?
and quit disappearing. it's very annoying,
especially since you never tell me where you are going.
just stop haunting my head. please start haunting my bed.
or don't even bother haunting at all.

when the sun winks, and
you shut the door
tell the kids to come inside

slithering serpents, a fantastic show
flicker in the twilit sky
like the tongues of Hell

and
everything surges and fries
in the house, for a moment
like a haunted hospital
like in the movies

when the power's out, and in the road
passerby light their candelabras.

when the engines quit their mechanizations;
when the poles settle down for the
big
long
nap;

and the smallest calculated bearings
of your pocket compasses go awry
from that great fire on the sun

and 100 years is lost in 8 minutes.
you are what you left yourself ready for.

i guess it's true you're all the things that i
wish i could have been,
but never quite accomplished,
never quite become.
is it true we mend out clothes with
pieces of our past
and exchange them as gifts?
things made for lasting.
there's a little extra something to your smile,
something stunted in me for years
is now been awakened awhile.
i don't know what it is, but i've feared
i'm becoming something new,
something made of me and you
and what i fear
is fearing what comes near
will hurt me again
so
please don't do that, dear.

there was an interesting
night to roam; to be indoors, and
she knows she'll never be upright,
a nuisance;
i am actually a big difference
between what i have been
a great deal with.
so don't try to get me.
we're just imperfect
and you, a crippled horse.
and if i had the time to get a free
chance
it would not be worthit.
hogwash, like the vista cruiser
forgotten in the kudzu.
and in the brambles do you question?
what does it mean to matter?
if you're no better than what you envision?

i feel the same doom a bee in a jar
feels, an
idol in the path of ivy in the yard
and all
i could think of when you left
is when you entered my car,
and we smashed faces
and you couldn't contain yourself.
but maybe i've contained myself
too much now,
and so i guess i've set out my furrows,
counting the withered stalks
until january
and hoping (in vain?) to smash
faces again, when
you return.

you never listen and i
i am just a nuisance
to you so nevermind
what i said yesterday
it's not important
anyway