Little drips of rain
Come together in a stream
Yearning for the sea

The stream leaves my eye as it threads
Between muddy arms,under swaying grass,
With darkened stones nestled snuggly in its bed
Stalked by a hound reflected in amber glass
Playfully raising front paws to fall and splash

Though she tired beneath the cloudless july sky
The hound did not enter the stream's embrace,
Her longing whimper and the streams cool reply
Still echo in my skull's subspace

What something held her tail I can't recall
But she tired and layed down to rest
In soft brush n' pleasant light n' long before sun fall
Shedding the vigor she had professed
She shut the light from her eyes and slumber soon commenced


Far from sight, the stream trickles on
And the hound snores at my feet,
The remnants of their meeting gone
But for those held in my seat

The stream played thick and heavy,
      in the red dawn, of the darkest night.
Tree-lines aghast in the kindling,
      of the Summer Solstice fires.
Upon the sunrise, on the banks among the foliage,
      time tracks into the overgrown trails.
In a deliberate folly, the seasons pass
      as the blended wood, welcomes unwavering change.
Lead back, to dusk, the crisp inviting hum
      of running water, and only a moment has passed.

today was an alright day.


i just don't really feel like writing about it.


work is fine

but it's only a story you can tell once,
and it's just
i don't even remember any of it.


i go in for my hours and come out
and can't recall a single thing said.

just mumbling and a few faint faces and the next week schedule and other

tedious adjustments
and the fact the mop
is broken

and the dust pan
tilts to the side

and there's never any fresh meat-

but plenty of onion,

and all girls quit in 4 days after they discover that it's indeed ***** and
their acrylic nails aren't suited to scrubbing
tiling and grime.


and my sweat drips
and it still sticks to me.
and i walk home
and flip off ******* driving too close to me - challenging me for the fact that i even
wake up to this
and go at it
day after day after day

after day

after day.,,


everyone's a sadist   --

and everyone is afraid

myself included

but i still dream of flowers in the rain

i remember going to sizzler
with my mom and my 2 brothers
and some random guy and lady---

all at the table.


and she'd load up the tray with dinosaur nuggets
and cabbage
and parsely
and split pea soup

and swirly icecream

of which you could fill a bucket and

only get a light scolding from the waitress with her 4 freckles.


i'd eat that stuff,
and there'd be faint music and clinking

and dishes breaking
and children laughing and crying

and burps from old people

and farting
from overzealous husbands
who would proclaim flatulance as being a sign of
gratitude for one's meal in
China


if you've ever heard.



and the carpet would be drenched in animal ****

and the air
thick will fillaments
and greasy dust--

and my eyes would water,
and the memories
would be a haze,


but it was always rather pleasant.


and the best part was the red ballon with the 'S' logo.

and it'd pop usually upon arriving home after you sit on it or something like that---


Then many years later
i went back with a friend
and his dad who happened to be pretty drunk
and we were listening to Lennon's "Wheels Go By''


and the waiter
was younger and better looking and had less disdain--

and i just got chocolate icecream.


but there were no swirls.

the swirles were long gone.

dead even.

dead .


and then i flicked my ciggarette into an immaculate ashtray

and a few ladies
talked about the lunch specials.

and my stomach gurgled
and we went
to ihop instead.

dancing on the freeway
while flipping off the drivers and ******* into someone's yard
whilst eating a
lettuce
wrap.


they swerve around me
and honk
and weave in and out of lanes

and scream

and cry

and throw rotten fruit onto me.


fires erupt in the distance

and several
buildings collapse
into thin dust.


ruins are uncovered
showing the slow ascent of man.

discoveries are made,

then the shots are fired

and hit me in the gut
and temple.

it flings off of my chin
and onto the cement
clicking my toe.


bloods spills out
and i crap myself from the excitement.


the excrement collects into a neat pile.


then the helicopter
fro ma distance shouts at me,
telling me to

''GET ON THE GROUND

AND
TUCK IN YOUR GENITALS''

i comply
.


and the news crew
rolls up and interviews me,

and i spit on the womans face

and she ****
and rrubs her *****
behind a bush in the distance.


and i'm handcuffed
and throw into
a van,


and slowly
ripped apart
by
aligators

as they throw me into a laggoon

and spell
my name wrong
on the urn


and drop me into a boiling vat of lubricant for the elederly.


and then my eyes
close


and death
is slow release


and none of my relevatives
are sitting at the gate

,,


just a few

birds

that form a beautiful V
in the rising dawn sky