One hand is half-thigh
the other touches knee
your shoulders are all wrong
– of course, this is aura
Do not see aura
– the ugly –
with the good, a small pea
in a mass of cess
Look instead at the smiles
the eyes
It is too much
– they may laugh and joke
but they are broken
– little, brittle chips of dirt
You do not want to see
the light
extinguished
~ ~ ~
Quiet Here
Played-out mania
Bootprints in the snow
Done all my missing
~did the rerun
rain-drenched streets
alley rats, old stuff,
things tried before which
always end up a mess~
You keep time
head-full figments, love songs,
I don't even know if you believe
I hate myself