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up here
angles of light mixing with shadows on the roof, the wicker endtable filled with water from rain, when was that rain? the plastic adirondack chairs from my ex, tanning in the sun beside the generator which cozies up to the Dewars bottle half-filled with a hundred tombstones… the sun bouncing off the screen onto the
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lunch break
the haze of the medication. the empty bathroom. the cold tile against my face. the bowl like a swan standing up tall. my heavy eyelids. the space underneath the stall. i look for feet. seeing none, i give in to the haze.
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around here
a black L, stripes of space and a metal husband and wife bickering. a naked man writing poems, 31 years old. small goods and small obstacles and William Carlos Williams. he drinks a glass of water. i crave scotch.