Thursday, January 31, 2013


Fog leaked
through the trees

and spilled like smoke
onto the world below

in the dark of predawn
in the dark of predawn
in the dark of predawn.

Maybe I'm hearing things
in the background

or seeing things
in the distance

through eyes closed;

maybe the cranial storms
subsided long enough
to notice

I've never been awake.

Maybe not.

Tuesday, January 8, 2013

Metal Spoon; Empty Coffee Mug

I woke up
in the backseat
of my car

yesterday morning

statically trying
to outrun the static.

There's no time
in dreams;

it's easy to see
how one could get lost
in them
so often.

And the door is ajar
in that apartment
you dream of,

but the door
to the dream is closed;

we're all so lonely
in the cold interior
of our moving cars,

aren't we?