gentle breeze –
a rustle of being
no more
February 2016
greenness breaks new ground
my breath still at the end of it all
wasted
maggots devour
our reverie
beyond this gap
I am lost also
amid words
GDP –
most of the surplus
is bullshit
leap day . . .
the sun warms to
Miss February
mine
is the compost
of my words
bloated with a fly on afterthoughts
hear them in stone utter silence
out of place –
watching fruit rot
by napalm light
the hidden depth
of the best of us
in broken light
hear a mirror held up to better nature
dry spell
an earth worm turns
for the ants
late summer rain –
perhaps I should hold on
to merely being
another dick erects his tower
candidates pose with their election policies
measuring manhood by election
apprentice rule –
is passionate intensity
to take precedence?
pre-dawn light
a hum of cicadas
quickens it
ancient tree –
will this ash soften
my forehead?
Shrove Tuesday –
the pantry stripped bare
for emptiness
wordless night –
an ichthyostega
crawls ashore
made to order the life before
summer fling
a mosquito conjoins
the lovers
my eye skims a river of stars
on what premises
does my vision pass away?
this hell-hole of words
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