smells of campfire
pull open wide
the doors of summer

striped spring termite
this is not your house
nor is it mine

chattering bird
the cat
chatters at

hidden trickles
snow melts
under ice

from the plane
a trail
I once climbed

car horns
cacophony
or night's melody

sea above
clouds below
moving eastward

pigeons wade
beneath parked car--
hot steam vents

restless cat
electrified!
assults the rug

faintest cheer
home team scoring run—
the man’s headphones


evergreens
even greener since
thunderstorm


cloud of bees
end their flight
my speeding car


eighty degrees—
palm tree glows
Christmas lights


shrill cry
forgotten kettle boils—
time for work


I sit
shadowboxing skull
doves escape


fog enrobes
the looming coast
curls away


students
clutch books tightly
braving the cold

I drift off to zombies,
hackneyed as they are.
Hired extras wait for their cue,
for my fight or flight,
or something like my full, burgeoning bloom.
The clamor of a lion’s claws
he paces the garage
and I am the tiniest of cats.
The claws are rapping--
I’ve been here before
somewhere in the minutes
haunting the space
just before I wake
to bubbling, boiling radiators
my home warm, underwater
as the neon sign
glows into my room
flashing: “LIQUORS.”

I haven't written in a while, because I've been writing essays on Virginia Woolf and Body Language and how it effects a tutoring session in the writing center. One of these does not interest me. Bet you can't guess! Bet you can't eat a whole cheesecake! But thanks to Jen, I am taking the time to contribute to this session of tag, and with good reason.

7 Songs I'm Into Now

1. Vampires of New York- Marcy Playground
2. Rat Poison (for dinner)- Say Anything
3. Thumbelina- Nightmare of You
4. Autumn Leaves [Take 2] - Bill Evens Trio
5. Blue Valentines- Tom Waits
6. She Says- Unwritten Law
7. How Long Is Forever- Willie Nelson

These songs, if not already enjoyed, should be illegally downloaded. Just kidding...or am I?

Tag, Dave you're it!

matt

The ice age is here.
Bitter cold creeps around,
searching for a doorway, a place to sleep.
I exhale the air in my lungs,
watch it drift over a handrail.
It freezes, dissipates, changes form,
hangs suspended before seeping
into someone's living room.