There's enough night sky To make a difference With an abundance of Flying saucers Rotating their fluorescence In our eyes

I sit in a café and watch the near palms of summer swaying against the far ridge of hills and young girls walking along in their sleeveless summer dresses. Their shoulders speaking their long history of sex and future children,

I say the weather is cold. You say we’re living in a modernish duplex in the West Village and the girls downstairs moved out leaving all the windows and doors open in the middle of the night. “Who moves out leaving all the windows and doors open?” you a

the river parts it's waves like crow's/wings part the air/accepting sorrows

probably not going to Heaven probably not going to Hell

The President of the Board of Sanitation Workers had a business card printed up that read: Manure Connoisseur, to impress ladies at the Blue Collar Bar. Definitely not the Shit Shovelers, or SS, as some of his co-workers had suggested.

She worked for a Nudist Weather Channel As a fill-in nudist weather lady When the regular nudist weather lady Came down with a cold Or was otherwise indisposed So she had to learn how to point at a cold front moving in While looking cute in

Light interrogates the dark.