i do not like anything anymore
and everyone here not dead
is dying,
and so what are we
still waiting for?
stick around as
long as you want, but the
future was never going
to be anyone’s
friend
portrait w/ still life, c. 1984
you and i like some frightened
child’s dream of blue skies
no words,
only images
the sleepy deaths of
summer afternoons on
burnt hill road
the inevitability of powerlines
you grow up and then you
move away and then
you stop believing in the idea of home and,
when you drown,
you do it quietly
you do it well
the trick here
is to pay attention
study the art of passive suicide
let the junkies dig their sad little graves,
let the priests be fattened for slaughter
zero is the
only number that matters
all kingdoms fall
never thought about this when
i was kissing you,
when i was undressing you, when the
spaces between us had disappeared
never considered mortality
never breathed in the poison
of government, of religion,
of false morality
was too busy laughing to
believe in those
next 30 years of unrelenting drought