cop out haiku

the smell of coffee

coming in from the brisk air

read alone quietly

square

keep yourself fluid, unfixed
your body bent over

your skull and spine shouldn't align

but solidify
your poor shitty neurons

3 minutes is nothing, it only happens
15-45 times a day

if you have any focus left to lose
then ditch that shit, it's so over

you don't need crutches made of paper

the idea of love

was for me a watch secured

tightly to my wrist

now time has no measure

just a blur next to me

in the hour of the Dixie cup

ash from a cigarette
suspended in night air,
cigarette tip shards falling
back to earth like
adolescent cherry blossoms

the evenings when you stand on
this wooden deck are all the same
somewhere, dogs are barking

look up:
past the watertower
past streetlamps

the moon hangs heavy and white
through the smoke--
winter's exposed skin

in the thrall of a lighter,
your thoughts burn
the way
loose ends
always

do

on a scrap of paper dug out from a box written last winter

Last night:

The rakes of empty branches
power lines hang globes of light
empty for adventure
darkness as a traveling coat
sameness
every shrub the same, regular
just a regular shrub
comforted only by this.

I know these shapes
should I dress them or leave this path
and I am saddened as I go
I let words go, alone as I am made
So how can I be sure the search made me happy
Alone, a heavy word, the words themselves stand
and let them stand

Helmet

Darling darling oh darling please,
(does that word never grow old?
Oh have it your way!)
Darling darling darling oh darling please,
be careful with that head of yours!
It's precious.
More precious than you believe.

Wonder wonder wonder

Ocean Rose Tell Me,
does that horrible man still make you feel ugly,
and does he still never touch you?
Tired and assey, coming home from, from, from whatever, to spend himself
with the clicking lights of his real wife, that bitch in the corner.
Does the dream land of the early hours still make you feel better?

I've been in dream land since the early years, and no matter how many dreams pass,
I believe that I'll never get used to you as a blonde.