It is Desperate

My heart has been well trained 

At every opportunity it is ready to disobey


Ready When You Are

I would knowingly nod should the tip of your dagger be felt quenching thirst at the oasis found between my fifth and sixth posterior ribs

Drenching itself in oxygen from my left lung and blackish blue viscosity from my right atrium

Rendering me silent

But that will never happen because I am non-existent. You went to a place that is neither love nor hate. I am unworthy of the energy required to produce a thought

Either way I am ready to talk when you are

Downcast Eyes

I have no time

For downcast eyes

Which wait

For the change

Of the

Red traffic light


As the downcast

Eyes of former friends


Neither the heart

Nor the mind

As I pass by


That is the price


I called a fellow arsonist to douse the dry fence, instead of the waterproofed red-donned fighters.

The yellow grass turned to black and spread, finally kissing the vinyl side while we were napping. Meantime, whipped into the shrubs was an unsecured butane lighter.


This is what I imagined you were doing, though no doubt I am mistaken, as we are constantly comfounding angels. So what of us?

You followed from afar after embarking from the garden

Because of the following you were pressed to disavow

You stayed near enough because you needed to know that I was sound

I believe you when you said you had no idea what I was talking about