The Caller

I am aware
it is not just the
snow that melts in the light of
time, that it is all nature.
So I ask you,
Father, why wait to
recover all of thy sigh-
blown age on double pleasures?
Instead, I find
myself engulfed not
in the brimstones of regret,
but in nihilistic bliss.
I do not strike
the board, instead I
shake the tree of knowledge from
which I suspect it was made
for in this world
I believe I am
an orphan; for when I loose
my heart, no one answers “Child”.

three haikus of little importance

there is something to
be said about raindrops. they
come down, that is all.

cheap vodka only
tastes nice if you know just how
little there is left.

haiku is a nice
form. like an honest lover-
quick and beautiful.

its like finding a picture
of your mother in her wedding gown.
you want to be there,
but you dont want to be
a bastard.

where do street cats go when it snows?

from my fire escape i wonder,
and hope they find themselves in shelter,
to pick the meat off spare-rib bones.

from the third story window i see them scamper
    those cats are skin and skeleton.
there, under a car, one hides,
can you see it? it whines at the empty moon
for sympathy - a break in flurry just long enough
    to offer a chance to survive.
but snow, set in its ways, cannot understand
how, unlike itself, not all things melt,
get carried to the sky and
lie in wait to someday meet the earth again.

and look at all that snow. all those snowflakes
that melt on my warm hand. those beautiful snowflakes
that pass like ash cast from the tip of
    some neglectful god's cigar,
    banished upon
the once green carpet of this world.
   all those heavy white snowflakes, look.
    look at all those fat snowflakes,
    those cruel and god-damned snowflakes.

2am

2Am
bloody lip
i cannot help
but feel double crossed

heavy with the weight of a metaphor
slack jawed in the lot of the convenience store
im waiting in the car for you
to come out and break my heart in half.

but not for all the amphetamine
in all the fashion magazines,
no, not for all the coffee in jersey diners
will i ever love you
as bad as you treat me.

cigarettes for two-timing romance
dumpster diving driving to poptune singalongs
im waiting for a sign to let you tear my Levis away.

but not for all the beer in this college town, love
not for all the dry innuendo
not for all the sweet-talking cellphone calls
will i let you be my friend ever again.

Nyquil Blues

i pick and choose
i'm undercover in a stupor with some apple juice
i broke off my friendships,
and when they came to an end i was left
with nothing but the Nyquil blues
and then i got naked,
so subtly wasted, laying on the rug in my apartment room

january said goodbye and i didn't seem to mind.
he took up most of my money
and left me with something funny
to satisfy my sweet tooth for a means to an end.

will i ever get to bed! will i ever catch a break?
this is my message on your answering machine
and if you delete it, and tell me to beat it,
i'm left with nothing but the Nyquil blues.