Oh

What am i running for? Where to?
Yes, to catch the bus and all, but
Why? I can't get drunk anymore
These ferrets munch my bed, my
Oh, my mailman's a piss less than dead.

What's the point, and where's there to learn?
So, I've resolved to sing-a-long to the street
Give up the fight, bound to pick up its rhymes
The cold allows me certain private rights.

Who's worth deceiving? Not much for a question
Even less of an answer. Pedestrian-eyes alight,
The night no longer gives coin for believing.

improv for drawn sources

The river never waits
Cutting, though many other
Names exist, rock and bone
Pollute the pure, Season's
Unwashed hands deign piety
Every stoic stroke wears away
Each push a fresh argument
One hesitates suggesting fire
But Frost, these things moving
A child pressed to crawl
Will crawl upon your turning
Through ears, the river never
Waits and morals never makes.

improv for central nodes

The death toll
Is unknown, no man
Can lift such heaviness
Merely observing
One must become
His hyperthrobbing heart
One must become
Large and lift
And lift, how
High will you imagine
The death toll rises.

South Beach, 10:29 p.m., 12/28/2009

The moon reflecting off

Do not forget how much I

Abhor my love for you

Gathering dust on yr shelf

As you once collected roses

Red petals dripping

Impossible pollen

Each flower so beautiful

I've seen their shapes cut out by a star

On one of the planks above my head.