We will wake up on a freezing Spring morning
waiting for the light to hit
the dangling prism hanging from your skylight.

Minuscule crystals of Vermont ice will cake
around the corners of the window
and the thin yellow sun will rise behind the lake.

We are buried under quilted layers of warmth.
Patches of exhausted reds and yellows,
little white lily of the valley blossoms.

Soon – you will leave to go to work.
I will write, cook and wait. The sun will set before you come home.

When you return, you will jump on the bed, jump on me.
I will laugh even though I know you are ruining the springs.
(which you will eventually)

Returning to bed, warm under the patches of
Goldenrod, cinnamon, dried up-side-down roses.

And then so much will happen to us.
Years will go by. We will save a life.
Although, we will lose many.
The mornings under the skylight will end.
The evenings will get shorter,
and then grow to unbelievable lengths of darkness.

At night we will always curl together like two baby bunnies
Hugging in a nutmeg-colored burrow
Under the layers of dead grass, five months of snow
And the thin yellow sun.


Crying became obsolete
because there was nothing
tangible left to lose.

Your death was prevented
and your life extended
as a program running
within a cyborg.

They affixed glass eyeballs
with cameras enclosed
with wire lacing
into the remains of
your brain.

Your glass eyes
blinking fresh green light
behind them
could identify
the grass-bare path
which leads to your garden
full of hydrangeas and roses.

The breakdown was inevitable:
The loss of technology,
the supposed end of humanity.

People finally experienced
grief and fear
as the programs built inside
cyborgs stopped running.

Sudden clicks and breaks
creating quick death or
long, drawn out pain.

An overwhelming realisation
of existence

Flailing and failing
to grasp the fleeting,
resulting in gentle fading of
what they used to call


escaping your fingers
in great pulling wisps.

This is what you’ve missed
and what
– in a quick few seconds –
breathe out and lose.

Batman Double Datcyl

Blam! Spif! Sock! Mint! Crash! Bash!
The pitiful Bruce Wayne
Such sadness, in anger;
the beauty of revenge.

You blind, sad creature, are
ever experiencing
Are you a man?

Two Dogs in a Boat

Before the two dogs get in the boat
we have to let him bail the water.
Which he does, careful and calmly.
Then we will lead the two dogs in
one after another and we
will watch them sit together
floating and watching us,
watching the waves sweep
under the rowboat, gentle
and inevitable,
a familiar rhythm for all of us.


Get up! Put on some pants and go outside,
The sun is still up; there will be darkness soon.
“But, the world is frightful I’d rather hide.”

You are wasting your time, you’ve lost your pride.
Life shouldn’t be punctuated by your inevitable doom.
“I don’t want to put on pants and go outside.”

They might be out there, you won’t find them inside.
Winter is cold, cruel but you can’t wait til June.
“But, my love is spiteful I’d rather hide.”

You are wasting your youth, looks and mind,
by lying in bed and crying past noon.
“I won’t put on some pants and go outside.”

Your friends and your family, they’ll worry you died;
being reclusive and absorbed in your gloom.
“Depression can be delightful, I’d rather hide.”

Please wake up! You can’t sleep through the ride,
Trapping yourself in your mind, in this room.
“I can’t put on some pants and go outside,
To this sorrow I am rightful, please let me hide.”

Dead Umbrellas

Those little black ones
you get at the train station for ten bucks,
it will flip inside out
and snap and break
you’ll swear and toss it
into the faux wrought iron trash can.

That red glossy one
with its silver ribs bent back
painfully. Just lies in a puddle
saying nothing.
Purpose and meaning
are moments of the past.

When the rain ceases tomorrow
and the sun pops up
flashing and glorious.
No one will remember that their
umbrella snapped back in an
instant of rage and quick desperation.
It meant a lot then.

When life has you down, make it significantly worse.

When life has you down, make it significantly worse–
A crack pipe, a booze binge, a few one-night stands.
How much destruction can be set off in a verse?

Fine, can you drive though? The car’s in reverse.
Your choices break fast like old rubberbands.
When life has you down, make it significantly worse.

Money? Fuck that, You always reimburse.
Get the hell out of here and sleep on soft sands.
How much destruction can be set off in a verse?

Break into a temple and be blessed by its curse,
The wealth of your years can be held in your hands.
When life has you down, make it significantly worse.

Though you want stability, the past won’t reverse
or be thrown upward or outward or purposely planned.
How much destruction can be prevented in verse?

Blow up your tangibles and dump out your purse.
Material is fleeting but your soul withstands
when your life cuts you down to your significant worth.
I hope much destruction has been set off by this verse.