These days, I hibernate / like propane caged, highly flammable
In the same pjs for the past two months, / bedroom door closed,
There may have been even slaughter in our own neighborhood
Since I own no cell / phone I need something / to keep up to date
One of the horses has a wounded leg. / It doesn’t seem to mind, though the skin shines
and i can still remember // how you waited // until i finished // each // poem
Things are so much more random now, / what with all the issues everyone has
I am that neighbor that makes him want to scream. / He can’t get far enough away from me,
Now spring, I should be swinging / for the fences, but settle instead / for my new favorite Thursday sandwich
Desire starts just above the eight-inch spikes / affixing his feet to the cross.
