screaming at low volumes
“it’s in here” ‘no it’s not.’ Some are grey Some are not. “see, right here.” ‘I’ll never look’ Some can screw Some can cook. “there in the closet” ‘I won’t see!’ Some for him Some for me. “broken on the floor” ‘it wasn’t I’ Some like it wet Some like it dry. “my silly old … Read morePattie Can’t See
Write me a song poetess of my dreams. No one else will. Milk Maid’s skin pale in the candle light sing me a song — at the very least. — — it’s enough, I suppose, to drink the beer you poured. (steal glances tipping the bottle up) you may never know the light you bring … Read moreOde to a lost bartender
I know who you are, No matter your form. Come to me at my death and we will kiss. You play the shadow, each moment, each now, better than you play the sun on green leaves. Come to me when I wake, that I may enter you alive from our dances together in my dreams. … Read morePsalm of the mist
she left without a trace, hat on the back of the couch, cigarette burning in the ashtray, drink barely touched, not even a good-bye …. and I hoped she ran into the best, all that could be good ____ when she flushed the toilet and came back in, laid on the couch, lifted the cigarette, … Read moreuntitled #831