A spackled skull,
one hand dabs art over death
tacky paint still drying
Snowdrifts of if...if...
then turn on your wipers
to clear your windshield
Such steeped sadness for
Robert E. Howard, tonight
dread against my bones
He talks to himself
drooping and screeching voices
audience long lost
That mirror, missing
from above the urinal
summer-stinky heat
Cockroach, underside
of the end table lamp shade
Fourth of July
Krishnas clang outside
burned meatballs under noodles
Evening caesura
She's grown complacent
in the years since I read her
"Dear John" in my kitchen
Skinny blue neon
from the bail bondsman's window
lost in the sunburst
O Death so cool!
Until he pressed but did not
rend, with his razor
I don't tell him
I walk now with the Godless...
leaves stay on the tree
The soldier chokes
face down in a mud puddle
denied any sky
Ox, ready to drop
in slurry snow, looks back
on the brown mountain
Where do we all stand
[Refractions and Distractions]
Oh (no) (not) again
