as if another world passes through

the threat of noteriety
is my guy fawkes facade

also the way too many articles
become articells.

i plug  keyboard in
remembering click's passageway.


cruelty in the passing.
we meet and part never
to meet again. the letting go of it.


your pandora is on my window.
share and share alike. a look. a meeting
of lips, gonads, swisher sweet synth.




*&





trembling in the prebirth afternoon
sun hidden by the soft smell of snow
holding itself in till it waters

cookies rise in the oven, then fall.
someone knocks at the door, in  a hoodie
with a skateboard, a trip to manhattan
in his pocket.









*(&




we were thom kah gai
panang and spring rolls
losing our way in target's
vast super center. we were
asking directions and finding sales
and smiles on the christmas blog.
the cash back, the friendly bagger.

all the way out to the tent
we smoke the sacred weed
in amongst the pines
we finger  the scotches. green
soft needles slide over
whorled pads. receptors. smell.


they're too tall,i imagine one filling
my living room like a woodsman, trapped
with a hatchet beside my couch.strung
with lights to make him more user friendly.













()*



i used to write with you in mind
now i write afraid of what you'll read.







































(*)&

















over by the douglas firs, he picks
up a tree and says look at this mom.

it's perfect. just enough flaws
to make it real. i love it. guy walks by
says these are half price tonight.

i'm down with that. nother guy walks up
with a chain saw says i'll get that for ya.

half netted looks again says you want me take
that off? yah, could use it. nods. buzz. bagged.

at the register he's like i smell pine
other guy says man ALL i smell is pine
buzzguy's all no this is real pine.
i smile. he's like that's a special price
for ya. i think i got that. nod. smile.
the cashier plays along. less than ten dollars
for my sacrifice to consumerism. a tree, already dying
into which i screw metal bars, then pour
water into a dish and force it to drink
to approximate the semblance of life.
and it weeps .

its tears and its screams
make my house smell
like the inside of a vast forest
in the middle of winter clean and white
as virgin snow.

half price is worth a tip anyway you look at it
but i wonder if the roaches folded inside
were a bit too much .

as i write this i wonder
honestly for the first time
if he was playing
off my stoned stupidity in a bid for a larger tip
or if he really cut me
a deal cuz we gotta take care
of our own.