Friday, October 2, 2009

My Poop Smells Like Pants

Open Hands

Your heart is so heavy
to hold
and cold

And my heart is a
study in contrasting hues

swelled up under
monochromatic touches

used as your pincushion,
but your heart
is so heavy
to hold.


Grains of Salt

I just
wish I could
spend all day
chasing squirrels
forgetting
slipping in and out of
consciousness
until the sky
is wounded
signaling my retreat
oh, how I wish.

No comments: