"It's about words, and words are all I have…"



I sacrificed a small pink mum to the one eyed

Buddha in the bedroom   Over the course of

a day it now lay  soft & supine where once

stiff & straight    Surely the golden-boy  with

elongated ears will weave  pink-flower-soul

into grey city sleepers  on edge of polluted

Lake    Especially during ice-storms when every

dream you ever had on fetid days will glimmer  briefly


Before squirrel-rats bury them in your tulip beds

Do not over think it    Just survive





Late  Autumn  2013

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