When last I checked
I’d heard you’d died
when last I checked
you’d lost your way
when last I checked
You had escalated your
situation, and it’s
up to you to
redefine what ‘died’
really means
between now
and when next I check
Day: March 10, 2009
for thus goes the whether
poetryor not
you’re on the one hand or the other
hand in hand and foot in shoe (if it fits
then don’t take it off to the races
are from mars and women are from
that land out yonder where
your bristle breaks
where your beard bristles
and where your blabbery
is better tolerated
Your Skin
poetryI wonder
what my cold fingers feel
like
scraping on your skin
like
ice?
like a strange and
unwelcome touch from
a specter?
Am I a ghost?
yes?
Can I be your ghost
at least?
the sieve and the sand 