starving child seen
through a window
from the house
at dinner time

your guns are blood
the wine is white
and mine is made
of turpentine

your heart is made
of foolish choices
and i put down my
eating utensils

the moment that you
looked beyond that
child to scope out
reflective smiles

you don't tell me anything

you couldn't if you tried

you have the ocean in your head
the sand makes up your mind

the work you wake to makes mistakes
while trying to fake high tide

on beaches not as far from lakes
as sand their owners buy

fetch me a gander
at the local slander,
so that i can gather

a way to slather
words onto invalids,
insipid big wigs;

and, wish-they-were
more-than-nothing
storybook characters

half circle morning ( Read more... )

heartland sinkhole lost its members ( Read more... )

i'm walking down a path somplace.
i'm not sure where i am,
besides being between
several twigs and leaves
i guess that i think
i'm somewhere that
the woods could
never shrink

but as the path goes on
and it sort of feels wrong
and i feel like turning around,

i just pick up my pace
and forget that the place
that i'm running from
has any ground.

she asks when why how what they are doing
and they say thanks but no thanks to him
we are going to the waterline to see the ocean
will be back by half past ten eleven

she asks what they are doing
and they say no thanks to him
we are going to see the ocean
will be back by half past eleven

you didn't know that it would be so tough ( Read more... )

jokingly lost on every bet
that said i'd be the last one to laugh;

or, to have the regrets
of a ten-year-old prophet
whose first true laugh
is the last.

i made the swingset swing for me
up past that point that i turned twenty

but now it doesn't work for me no more

they have the sheets ( Read more... )