I never amounted to nothing,
Much to the chagrin of those
Who knew me when I wanted
To be something– amazing
How the one can lead to other
When enough force is pressed
Against the first, making
A bit of positive reaction possible.


I’m the type to work on Friday
Before Monday morning comes/
That way of thinking lends a
Way of glossing over the troubles
Leading to the perfect day, Fri-day/
And I begin to look back on
all the hours bringing me to
Here/there/then, when I
Rested amongst the shades
Of leaves, leaving me to speak
With the humble bee, and they whose
Homes, tree’, made me sing;
I followed the breeze to turn and
Help those in need, or provide
A simple acknowledging
Of they who surround me without
Knowing me or Who brought me
Here, Friday.

Monday Morning Setbacks

Where you are / Ticks

How many times,
How many ways
Must I tell you
Before you stay?

A hundred years from now,
Whether we prolong life
Or continue to die, somehow
I will be where you are.
Led by breathing, my presence, I,
Will find a way to be anywhere–
Where you are.

Brought on by fitting bursts of madness,
His hands shake as he walks, cold
In an otherwise sunny atmosphere.
Eyes, wound like clock, tick his steps
To see where someone with no one around
Goes to be alone.

And the furry monster

…and the furry monster transforms landscapes
as he crashes down, amongst the mountainous range

…of tan, lifeless leaves Fallen to be
in places they never thought they’d see
when ‘ttached to limb of tree.