1/6/2014

Snow and record lows.
Wind chills of 30 to 40 below.
The cat just puked on the heavy comforter
and on the flannel sheets.

Small stones 1-4 and 1-5

1/4/2014
For my daughter:
Be your own fairy godmother.
Make your own magic.
Sparkle boots are just as good as glass slippers.
Don't drink so much that you lose your shoe.
Don't need a prince (or any man)
to have a happy ending.

1/5/2014
A fractured candy cane lies submerged
in a mixture of muddy water, little girl slobber, and no doubt, her tears.
I feel her disappointment sticking to my boot.

1/3/14 small stone

He's pissed me off too much to appreciate
A hundred thousand icy stars,
And that's my fault too.

small stone 1/2/14

I hold the situation up to the light
and try to find a bold line,
the essence of what really is.
I try to trim away the excess,
the drama.
But I only have kindergarten safety scissors.
The paper is thick.
My fingers are raw.

Small Stone 1/1/14

1-1-2014

 

Day one of a fresh start!

My daughter split a pile of dog shit,

and I had to spray it out of her tiny treads.

The wind and the water hose conspired against me,

And splashed it back in my face.

Happy New Year from the universe!

Play by Play

Play by Play

Just a tiny, fuzzy, segmented leg

is the only evidence of last night's massacre.

The spider did what he does.

The cat took notice.

Golden headlights shining into a quivering web,

illuminated the already pierced lady bug

who would've become supper

had the spider not been so attractive,

so bouncy and fun!

Then the orgasmic POUNCE!

The spider was a lil crunchy.

The cat savored the snack,

but was smacked in the face with the ramifications:

The toy is gone.

He smacks his lips.

Only a morsel remains:

A piece of ass, maybe some web.

Web, the equivalent of a spider shitting his pants.

And the cat feels a piece stuck,

Like a lose tooth in his fucked up head

with dissolved roots,

hanging on by a thread.

He picked his teefs clean with a tiny leg,

and then tossed it in the floor. 

8/17/2013

I can tell the depression is lifting.
I notice sunlight filtered through green leaves,
making a stained-glass canopy
over the junk yard.
I notice a stray kitten with an uncertain future
excitedly pouncing on a grasshopper.
The scene makes the terminal man,
who is sitting beside me,
erupt into rich laughter.