October is hurting again,
a rag-doll, dumb-drunk hurt.
No method or madness
anymore. Just
stuck-up, tongue-tied hurt.

I miss old friends with their
tag-team, seamless hurt.
All to see now, the
dry-rust leaves and the
ice-pick, guilt-sick hurt.

And I want to lie and
say it’s better.
But I just
drop-dead hurt.

Word Collage

glassy wind button
wrinkling cushion carnal lust
pinwheeling nakedness
sunless needle
winged kiss bone white
wonder thumb lemon gall
full weight
absolute tender mouth mill
boot flute funnel flask
orgiastic spices color young
kettledrum swallow
dumb croak merry narcotic
static dionysian love
garden tadpole dizzy drunk
showy lichen
bulbing yielding waxing ballad
subtle ivory phasing cradle irony
sore stringy vessel
tunnel drug
scuttle swirly trial
nocturnal silk vexing
mean pretty capsule

You Look So Small Now

I was thinking of you today.
There were children in the park
watching the clouds;
one of them said it looked like a spaceship.

It reminded me of the times
we would lie out with the
clouds, as they fell on us.
You said it looked like God.

I know you said you’d always be here, listening,
but sometimes I still wonder
if you are anywhere at all.


You have cared for Misery
         when she had been alone
You have watched over Joy
         ensuring she would not chase a ball
                  into the street
You have embraced Fear
         when she was separated from Anger
You have left me alone

The Waiting Room

I think that every night when you fall asleep, you really just drop dead. That’s why you feel like a zombie when you can’t fall asleep.

I think that every morning when you wake up, you’re really being born. That’s why the light seems so bright when you flick it on: you’ve never seen it before.

I think that every one of your dead bodies wake up in this big room at the end of the universe and shake the hands of all the bodies from the days before.

And I think that when you die your last death you will wake up in that big room and stand in front of this big podium before all of the yous you have been before.

And I think you will say “I forgive you.”