be 

reft

      left 

swept 

the pictured plains 

 steep

these simple steps 

             cherish 

the day 

sans the tv 

           what?

I don't know 

   be 

reft 

cleft 

     crept 

 and carpooled 

       stage left 

   no your other left

             squabble 

   squabble 

     squabble 

           some say 

PASS THE GRAVY 

  it's all right 

                            alternative turkey 

Ah the 

non ready - 

        maids

   no, don't

 the assembled blag

            the lie that tells 

her suit

  hirsute?

    ugh 

 no, not Harry Lime

 old man 

       ya know they said 

about the cuckoo clocks 

                                        and 500 years of Democracy?

             Well, they come from Austria

  or was it the Black Forest?

   

   

carotid

 corroded 

     let's call the whole thing 

                                              off

   

pine needle   ache
rebuttal
  dark
 episodic
antilles
   an unseemly attempt to parrot your answers
 doubtful it were
 but nonetheless
effective
   pine cone remorse
 you hurt your fingers
 realistic
 but a band-aid
these were not the times
 you had in mind
 pine sap
stickiness
you got it on your sneakers
  guess again
 and then maybe not

lifting 

the centrifugal 

ordnance

             time's destitute arrows

           spinning 

               the sweet distance of 

    waves and particles 

         it's not so uncertain 

     except when you try to look 

REALLY close- 

                                                         the observer affects the observed

   the tree in the forest?

  i don't know 

how do you read it?

     

   

stasis 

    repelled 

   the keyboard is 

                   dirty 

                      fingers 

 fingernails 

 eyes

          all set upon 

  the free world 

               we stab at vacations

    bleeding 

         for a corona 

                    shielding our hearts 

               no one is spared 

       except those 

 who revel 

in the crap

   one day they too 

   will remember 

 incorrectly 

or more likely 

just won't remember 

at all

a semi vacant reprisal 

of what 

 the moon 

              full moon 

      it eclipsed earlier 

 they said 

        how does the moon eclipse at 4:44 pm?

 it wasn't even up until like 7 o'clock

                              that's some bullshit right there 

                                 that's what that is

Punxsatawny saw his
shadow
   the bleak winter
         of
the bleak twitter
of our discontent
  malcontent
    six more weeks
ah,
if that were all
  we sit indoors
   rain
and snow
      sleeping with
bad dreams
        
   

fervent 

 busking 

             the whittled end of a sharp 

stick 

 a poke in the eye 

                   it seems 

             but it could be Mahler 

         or Stravinsky

 this song has no right or wrong 

    the side entrances are locked 

                                           we should be in the know 

                                            should is a strong word 

        for some 

but it doesn't stop us

       - we keep on 

  - we persist 

                    even though 

    we were warned -

    Fuck that loofa-faced 

shit gibbon!

  

   

           

breathe 

like flowers 

                  swimming 

             the south china sea 

                the wind is a military base 

                we eat pork buns 

                                        and read the packaging 

              being a lost soul

    has it's advantages

rain 

dripping 

                                                          have to move the car today   

                        there has to be 

                  but no 

 they ain't 

          drop them easy D trax 

                      gotta do them easy d taxes

   merde 

 as the french say 

              still 

        the rain 

    this ain't no nothing

Pierced!
    - egads-
wait
 now
 who stops traffic
like that
           -stupid
  

the breach

    configured elliptically 

                                       dressed in brown loafers

    standing in a puddle 

                                        reading the New Haven Record

 and munching on a Baby Ruth

                          said when I was in the Rangers 

                                               we swam olympic sized pools in full gear and pack

    but the shrine was still empty 

      too much rain 

the colorful days were written somewhere else 

 the bald headed buddhists

    were trying to sweep out the mud 

          from the temple 

             smiling 

       laughing 

falling in the water

I went back to the hotel 

                 for a drink