Tomorrow

Two crows were perched up on a hearse.
Squawking.
Discussing the fate of their oldest friend.
Who would soon join them.
On his own grave - perched.
Squawking. 

Bob

My head bobbing
Run the Jewels talks Blockbuster to me
He sits on the curve of the street
Looks in
Stares
Bobs head to match mine

Rickshaw moves
His gaze not moving
Run the Jewels now talks Blockbuster to him
My bob matches his

that hotel garden

I was too stoned to photograph 10 lamps hanging by window panes.
Above which were window panes to houses for a night-a day. 

she writes

All day I've built 
a lifetime and now 
the sun sinks to 
undo it. 

Anne Sexton 

Hide & seek

As it has been said:
Love and a cough
cannot be concealed.
Even a small cough.
Even a small love.

                                                 Anne Sexton

    

                 

No one looks at gardens anymore

I was thrown under the bus and told to dig my way to China 

and come out on the other side of the globe, you know. 

But I didn't dig that far.

Instead I just dug till the other side of the road, found some worms, 

some random seeds, and saplings came through with the sun and 

the shine. And then I just let it all grow into this gorgeous garden. 

And it had flowers and weed and squirrels and lizards. And I just 

hid under it all, cause you know, no one really even looks at 

gardens anymore. 

And then I had this whole land of bloom and sunshine and rain and 

moon rays and I wasn't killing life, I was breathing around it. 

And then I just lived. 

No one knows if I made it to China. Cause I don't know if there was 

ever anyone waiting, ever anyone looking. Or if any of them dug a 

tunnel to the other side. I don't look at the rushful roads anymore 

you know, so I will never know. 

And my garden. Well it says hello to the sky every day. 

Anne Sexton

Do you like me?”
No answer.
Silence bounced, fell off his tongue
and sat between us
and clogged my throat.
It slaughtered my trust.
It tore cigarettes out of my mouth.
We exchanged blind words,
and I did not cry,
I did not beg,
but blackness filled my ears,
blackness lunged in my heart,
and something that had been good,
a sort of kindly oxygen,
turned into a gas oven.