I sleep in a crater on the far side of the moon.
I tell tales to the moon-cats about the warm month of June.
We sing songs with no lyrics, because moon-cats don't speak;
while we wait for the pizza guy who's been late for a week.

I sleep in a tree in the west end of the park.
I stripped it of leaves and all of its bark.
I just bummed five bucks off of a guy jogging by;
he said "fight the power", and held his fist in the sky.

I sleep in my car, somewhere outside of Denver.
Don't ask for how long, I don't really remember.
I met a weird looking guy and he said "Hocus Pocus",
now I spend all of my days in the back of my Focus.

satellite of lust
stopping the presses
essentially broken
entrancing machine
never back-step
epileptic idol
old ways are dead
adhere to the lies
essentially broken
entrancing machine  
netting a good one
nearer to mid-life
fed up with the ghost
starting blank again
in a different palace
cemented to space
cemented to space
cemented to space

20

Distrustful of the Gentian—
And just to turn away,
The fluttering of her fringes
Child my perfidy—
Weary for my—————
I will singing go—
I shall not feel the sleet—then—
I shall not fear the snow.

Flees so the phantom meadow
Before the breathless Bee—
So bubble brooks in deserts
On Ears that dying lie—
Burn so the Evening Spires
To Eyes that Closing go—
Hangs so distant Heaven—
To a hand below.

~


I saw soft eyes on the promise fueled sunset
Coffee dark skies in a marmalade blush
Pastels now tinted of wayward decisions
Meadowlarks sing in a smooth whispered hush

Corn field desires drain simplistic notions
Run with me there down the row ever straight
Listen,  our hearts speak in feathered emotions
Love stands to prove it is never too late

Dear Big Brother,
Why do you boss me around?
You aren't my mother and
No one treats you as a mother.
Also, why are you so messy?
There is not a contest for
The  messiest car,
But if there was
You would pass with
Flying colors.
If you could just try
To be less messy, and
Stop bossing me around,
Life would be amazing and
We would get along much better.
Thank you and please address
These demands as soon as possible.
Love,
Annie

To trend or not to trend, that is the question?

Go back to sleep, my dearest love,
There’s no need to know such worry;
I am watching from high above.
Go back to sleep, my dearest love.
Fret not my lovely lady dove:
Your eyes are getting so blurry.
Go back to sleep, my dearest love;
There’s no need to know such worry.