that I’d lose somebody like you
the world was on fire
and no one could save me but you
slice me up and say hello
it makes the goodbye easier
come on and let it out
before you’re lost between the notes
hooray for boobies
I spit on fools who forget to include breast in their metaphysics,
Star-gazers who have not enumerated them among the moons of the earth.
–Charles Simic “Breasts”
call me on the phone
tell me all the ways you’re gonna mess me up
As you take your final bow.
I feel that this is just goodbye for now.
always waiting, nevermore
and art means something new
(published in issue 49 of CMYK)
outsiders dressed up like Sunday morning
I can’t sleep when I think about the times we’re living in
and I will remember your name and face
Not enough young in his lung for the water wings
Broken Home of Convention 