If I Was The Planet Mars

If I was the planet Mars
I’d break free from the Sun’s hold
And escape into the dark cold
Forge a path into the vast black
and never, ever, ever come back

A Collector of Highs

I’m a collector of highs
Like a nano journalist
Clung to the necks of crows
I am murders of knowledge
That comes only by scavenging
Through trash and old cigarettes
To find a shiny thing worth holding
I am the art of the cuttlefish

Word Salad

Dressing up for a date beginning, middle and final examinations, midterms, midwifery, DNA tests I flunked the last one I took, yep still a big Y on the, Marc! Set! Grow! a pair of aces beats my queens, and kings and guillotines sluiced deer entrails are offal but make bloody omens beware the ides ofContinue reading “Word Salad”