Amish Cognac with a salt cube

thinny thinny plastic
holding my fantastic
jingle in the entry ball
darky darky you're so tall
there right there is fourty-five
cars ahead slow drivey drive
Putin sayeth something
but I never listen ever...

...never ever.

The Stranded Light

His beaten fist
was wrapped with gauze,
swaddled like the virgin jesus.
And noticing an unfinished cigar,
he corked his mouth with it
and stood.

The broken light pole out front,
it hadn't worked in six years.
The city kept forgetting to replace the damn bulb.
But every year they'd tangle a
strand of white christmas lights on it,
just for the season.

These lights were the expensive kind.
One can die and the others stay lit.
But with the poor lights,
if one light fades out
while its mouth is gagged
with homemade napalm,
and its chest is being pounded on
with every blunt object in that damn pub,
then the other lights go out too.
Hopefully.

He tossed the cigar
and headed south.
Illuminated in neon,
a fire-breathing dragon
marked the window of a tattoo parlor.
The sight of it made the man smile
as he constructed a joke to tell Harrison.

in wintertime desperation

beautiful sunset smile,
one with novels for eyes
and a dozen bookmarks for my choosing--
but which question will I pluck first
to best understand her?

i wish to clasp at
your cloud-soft coat
and be drawn through the sky
as you journey 'round planets.

in wintertime desperation
i wish to see you more
and share a thermos
full of warm apple cider.

but how will you receive it
if i fasten the zipper of your cloud-soft coat
as we prepare to leave?
would you prefer to do it yourself?

and will you perch
by my side?
or would we just abide?

as the valorous trees
release galleries of leafs
toward the ground,
i hope to spread the designs
by marching through,
and being happy.