Winter

Winter is so quiet
There are cool hazelnut colored streets
A cold mocha colored sand beneath the struggling tires of the 5pm commuters
I'm only a seventeen year old with a flowered print scarf and bitten fingernails
There is plenty of me that is artificial
Are you a whole hearted natural human ?

Sometimes when I drive while it's snowing

I put a blanket over everything but the flakes
It's fucking eerie,
I don't do it on purpose, my mind, my mind, my mind

Sitting still inside while the cocaine sky gets the front lawn high
I sometimes see it all move
The tiles surrounding the fire place,
The magazines on the coffee table
I think it's 'cause of all the acid I used to do
Quiet, fucking winter
Get loud, and get cold

Untitled

Two wings there are, jointly make a pair
One sits so gracefully on her neck-
Which turns with such a mechanical pull
To reach her shoulder: a kiss from her own lips

On the small of her back, where there is a dip in her arch-
The feathered twin to her neck's accessory
She sees how its bone: a protuberance-
What an enchanting secret!

Solicitous on his windowpane
At his bewildered beat:
Bound to his chest with a pulse so sweet
A hyacinth pale his paltry face

She sees how tired he has grown
A musky haze-
So forgetful at his brown desk
Of brindled envelopes and checks

Veiled as a pureness
Untouched and unblended feathered spawn
Of a greater white bellied bird: he never knew
She took off in that copper colored air

Where The Weeds Grow Like Sins

I have unfinished business
Unfinished business with the gardens
Oh, such rich gardens
Of the wide range of scary,
Scary people with mean, mean faces
But with warm, warm hearts
And big, big hands

I have unfinished business
Where the weeds grow like sins
Beneath the ether,
Far, far beneath the ether
And there is a stop sign in this garden
And it reads off so many beautiful stories
You don't have to read them
You will feel them
You will feel them

There I stand reciting every story
To the big handed people
With cold faces and warm, warm hearts
With them they carry mugs
In their big, big hands
They sip the mystery liquid

I don't ask questions
I just read stories
From the stop sign in the garden
Where the weeds grow like sins
I have unfinished business

I came here to give
To give all of that I have
And they say the more you give the less you love,
And the less you love the more you know

I come from the stones and the rocks
Where the sky and the rivers never stop
It is there where I was born
On the petal of a rose kissed by a thorn

I grew to be quite a lady
I lived and cried every day
But that's okay, yes that's okay
I'm just here to give to hate and forgive

Because I have unfinished business with cold hearts and big hands
Where the weeds grow like sins