ive found that late nights partially alone are wonderfully productive... so i wrote a couple of poems based on actual experiences... enjoy.

freeverse on jay

jay occupies the wonderful time
between the conception and maturity of night.
jay allows for most weekdays (and saturday)
to birth into a linen of pink, blue, and purple
such as would have been washed with tie-dye socks.
i admit the backdrop is frightningly loose in coloration
but the contrast button is lame beyond its years
and there remains no toggle to adjust the magnitude
of jay's nose; it is worthy of sherpas.

as for the thicket of dark hair
degrees north of his forehead-
if he were balding, it would be an island;
however, it mystifies me why he keeps it around.
perhaps it promotes a critical balance
for his superfluous mandible because without it,
his lopsided face would cleave down the nose.
certainly would be a feature for the local news:
television celebrity closes show with more
cleavage than the previous guest (who fainted).

and to conan- i feel guilty for my smile
but your jokes, though trite, are abnormal.
(and keep doing the arnold... it kills)



{untitled}

comtemplating the ventrilisolo
inviting gloominess of the room
sherpas climbing cross my back
most amiable way to greet doom
a photo flashes in my mind
random product of the night
demons planted narcotics there
soul's needle pins the sight

a scene in southern france
champaigne and ocean breath
girl emerges from the fog
as a reaper bearing death
i ponder ways to spark a life
for, true, life was what she bore
past ties and future they contained
disentigrated in the moor

the countryside made jealous
by the purity of that night
she cared not of my open sores
but shed the faintest light
and though corrosive she was then
her nicotine numbed my pain
the utter disease of open eyes
reminds me bliss is acid rain

*original poetry- not that you would... but dont distribute without permission. thanks yall