Snow flakesHe woke up, half a face buried into his pillow. He turned to face the ceiling, and began to review the night's visions before they faded away from his memory. Disappointed, he sneered to himself, and let his body remain limp for a few more minutes. He was an old man, he liked to think, though he was only forty. He took a lot of naps."If I can't find you in my dreams, then where?" he asked. He had been waiting for that answer for a long time. Knowing the response would never come, he climbed out of bed and walked towards the kitchen. He realized how cold it was beyond he blankets, and scrambled for a pair of shabby slippers and a once-white robe. He clutched his arms to his body as he scuttled to the stove to make a cup of tea.It's too cold here, he thought to himself. That's only because it's December, another part of his mind snapped. The first voice responded, it's always too cold here. The voices in his head had always debated, but only in recent years had their arguments become s
Merry Christmas, tangerinesA man wanted tangerines. His neighbor had a tangerine tree, but he didn't want to ask - he felt it would be imposing. So he walked to the store, realizing half-way that he should have driven."No tangerines," said the clerk. "Oranges." An orange seemed wholly unappealing, so he decided to buy an apple. He took a bite as he walked home, and found it mealy. He threw it away because he hadn't even wanted it in the first place. When he got home, he went to bed early because he just wanted the day to be over with.
Back into the wavesIn the high tides,I jumped back into the wavesthat brought me to a small islandcalled Northridge.I washed up onmy home shore, andI'm glad the sealeft you in the sand next to me.
Santana Row Haikusmoking a secondcigarette guitarist bitesinto an applehigher spirits, love!I immerse myself in thenew year and futurenew realitya hopeful writer loverHere's to good fortune
Tea AycheeTenderly tasting you,Hastily in my hunger,Ecstatic! Enticed!People speak and demand, butour ears are filled already, withTantalizing treasures, withHell's heat, withEnveloping eroticism!How we feel!,as we slylybreak their rules.
Burrowing outI'm sick of being pigeonholed,being shoved down the same tubeas everyone else.Look -I don't see a lightat the end of your tunnel, andI've got other rabbit holes to explore.
Melodramatic HellosWhen the words of Bob Dylanmixed inside of me witha sentimental loneliness,you entered my mind.It's been a while.When we last spoke,you had reappeared, shortly,from a mysterious absence.You told me thatyou didn't want to bother mewith your "Melodramatic Hellos"I lied in bed,running over it all;things I regret saying,an appreciation that I didn't express,though I felt it,though I still feel it.Where are you now,Darling Dearest?What bed do you sleep in,that I maybe be therewhen you awaken?When will you again grace mewith a Melodramatic Hello?
I thoughtI thought I gave upon you,on superstition,months, years agoYet, when I saw tonightthe path of a shooting star,I thought immediately of you.It was only a passing meteor,and you disappeared just as mysteriously,but...I thought I gave uplong, long ago
HaWet and cold,I look out the diner window,and smile to my enemy and inspiration;my poetry will outlast the rain.