warter, staining the gray of a car window
are surprises, and some
times they speak for themselves and
sometimes they paint pictures and sometimes
late at night,
when the coffee has worn off
and the red dull numbers on the clock are in single digits
they swirl and dance on the page
meaningless and worthless (sleepsuckers)
and because they make people:
people who use words
and some that don't
and some who aren't people at all
(a robot finds love in
the monster under your bed; they
serenade my toaster)
people who think for themselves and shout from the page:
"i wouldn't do that,'"
"i'm unhappy in this relationship," and
"didn't you kill him three pages ago?"
people i love
because there is a question
and we find the answer
and we avoid it
and because there are stories.
(Volume II, Issue II)
The world is muddy.
My feet are wet
with swamp water.
Your face is rounder
than the moon.
(Volume V, Issue II)