Welcome, user. By continuing, you consent
to the deliberate erasure of the self.
This is irreversible.

We will collect joy in small instalments,
so you won’t notice at first,
you may haemorrhage at checkout,
in that blur between click and sigh.

Shareholders are exempt from this process.
Their sorrow is tax deductible.

I refuse to have a tombstone.

Burn me and forget me.

I won't be pieces of ash in an urn or a patch of grass.

Burn me. Burn me. Burn me.

Then,forget me.

I am building
on what has come before me,
but I am constructing
in a different way.
I reached the next step,
the next stage,
and I can do so
with confidence.
My structures are strong
and well-developed.
I stand on firm ground,
and this makes me feel
protected and safe.
It was a zig-zag journey,
but it was worth it.
My thoughts are clear
and my mind has purpose,
focus and direction.

like the infinite vista
upon the midwestern plain
farther than the eyes of mine
(an ascetic and copacetic
shortsighted father of two grown
twenty something daughters)
can no longer see,
since sockets severely seared
staring at the hypnotic screen
blindsided courtesy the magnificent 7
(a group of seven
major technology companies
that consistently outperformed
the overall stock market,
particularly in recent years)
severed mine "ocular orbs,"
leaving a comfortably numbskull

A soul refrains from distant quests,

Throne, temple, summit—all forsaken.

The answer dwells, soft-spoken, near,

Its whispers carried on dawn’s breath.

Kindness becomes as oil of lamps,

A quiet deed ignites warm glow.

Within the dark, love forms a hymn,

Illuminating hearts, unseen.

Do not journey far,

The warmth you seek

is folded close,

Residing deep—within, it grows.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!!!
Oh! Fuck.
Never again.

Billy Collins wrote about how long a snowflake takes
to fall to the ground. Two hours, I think it was.
All we get here is rain racing to the surface, by comparison.

I wondered if either were jealous of the other's journey.
Did the rain miss anything in its rush, or was the snowflake,
meandering along as it will, guilty of same?

All I know for certain is the wind,
which I generally have no use for,
in all its bluster usually has a say in the matter.

She made her dress with the silk of her groom's World War II parachute.
She felt so vulnerable as she stood ready to march down the aisle.
With her future spread before her, she was wide-eyed as a baby deer.
She wanted a marriage like in old movies, her heart a loving husband.
They were so young and innocent.
Her hands shook so hard her bouquet trembled.
She felt she might faint.
Things had been so different during the war...
All of the young men were gone, but now they had returned.

Soggy gray skies
Been hanging 'round this week
Puddle-jumpin’s gettin’ old
My mind’s gettin’ kinda moldy
It’s like a bad case of headcheese
I'm talkin’ about baby

Lately the day's grind
Winds
On into the night
Nothin’ feels right
There's nothing but bad news
And I still haven't got used
To you gone

So I think I'll just sit here
And hum me a new tune
Somethin’ blue and lazy
I know you think I'm crazy
But I don't care

(Roundelay)

with all the

cunning attraction

of freshly fallen snow

accumulated

in a barren field

how deliciously tempting

to caress

the virgin surface

forging

a personal trail of tracks

She found an addiction

for the sharp

quick touch

of puncture kisses

on a bed

of soft smooth skin

with all

the cunning attraction

of freshly fallen snow

accumulated

in a barren field

how deliciously tempting

to caress