death throe of seasons.
Spring the birth,
Summer prime,
Winter destined demise.

cycle end begins come Fall,
so Autumnal resolution for mine:

to burden friends,
scourge myself
awaiting their reply,
shackle necks,
the lot of us,
while the leaf flurries die.

to inspire Joy,
and work each day,
and exist and re-sculpt and revise,
the only comfort besides the balm
of the Autumn breeze outside.



the obvious:

falling out a window
and landing wrong jumping
out of your jump-off’s house.

the specific:

hitting your head
above the pit in the Leopard Lounge
at the Leftover Crack show.
creeping us out with delirious laughter;
Silvana, –driving home,
trying to keep you awake.

the disorderly:

sharing four bottles of bourbon,
going to Beau 1,
purposely flipping a champagne magnum onto their glass table,
stealing a giant stuffed boardwalk banana, someone’s bike.
eating shit under-shooting a freshly poured Rowan curb.
pouring bourbon on the scrapes.

the non metaphor:

ordering too many vodka tonics
and cake shots,
and lemon drops,
then, not realizing
your fresh mouth
just tabled
with the bride’s family.