gimme rains in static torrents--
dusted and committed to consciousness,
their coded addresses
flashing and jingling
in the bleak early hours of
endless end days.

in time i'll buy your lives
up in the madness of a gory summer,
lifted by your tragic hearts jingling
with nickels and dimes bitten and squeezed
fore surety and stacked in moments remembered
you need

6th ave

sore folks break
bullets deep,
sweating minutes from the morning
silences dreaded under rusted iron bridges, their
logic splintered by lines of laughter, like
floral patterns dotting
print paper advertisements,
peeking from every dirty corner
and rustling breeze.

spring sprung

draws close
slowly silken curtain
graces the air, its embrace
singing in its rattling rings,
singing across the golden rod
humming with ticking clock
burning with candles at this low hour.

my finger waiting on a
milky hand
older than I to
signify 12, the hour, and the sky--
games of chance
while the springtime
tries my mind
in riddles posed askance
from topics intertwined.

love me stupid i'll
ruin your beauty

soporific

indebted to misery,
my only friend--
we smile together and pretend.
credits to the wasteful end--
sucked into whiling for the moment,
drinking syrup while we wait.
the world's our only metaphor,
and we're the only race spurning
superhuman qualities
and ridding ourselves of death.

grooming

i'm the mower in my dreams,
killing for a living
almost by accident--
grimly scything swaths of grain
cutting paths to a paycheck,
animal friends bleeding in my wake with
eyes rolling gently to
the humility of death's embrace.
we feel sorry and move on. all
as merciless
as the
rotation of the globe on its random axis--
smiling softly
with a tightening grip.