you quit wearing pants
loaf around your yard
in hole-nipped panties

Listen to me: I know
the winter gloom in
mid-summer…

I like to think I’m also sprung,
released from the furnace knocks,
done with the heavy meat stews
and salty soups.

I suffer visions and many indignities
while looking for the Lobster

I imagined a cascade of slow death for all / that mattered…

Ma wrings
a wet world
of colors

I buy too much, for someone of my stature.
could pawn a skinny metaphor to purchase a plump skin.
its reputed in our lineage— to daydream a life that shreds our pockets.

You said it was okay to blame
what goes wrong on the planet

Lights on the dashboard spell out
“You still can’t kiss me”

We stop doing dishes while
a mile unwinds
from the tree outside.

a folksome, gruesome opera
of gauze and malcontent.

Winter sat like a wolf
on the horizon.

I tap at the alphabet while a single deer
taps at the dirt beyond the brush
on the far side of the tree line.

I would always rather be happy than
dignified. Rather held than held
in awe.

Mostly he ate what was put on his plate
snuck coffee grounds or dirt for a snack
Once a zipper Unzipped

Long after midnight, we’re talking about our first time