Untitled, original poem #97

in the harsh
 and studied light of day
my surface heaves and cracks
but if you come
 a darker way

i'll spill upon your tracks


Untitled, original poem #73

i'm trying
 not to laugh at us
they're crying softly
dead and cackling
yet again
 these leaves are falling
sunken doorways
winter stalling

my eyes are picked
 from sleeping heads
i'm on both sides
sometimes i'm dead

it's lying to us
 is a slashing river
 as a dreaming caterpillar
and life
 is maybe