i.

the lights flickered
like a jar of
restless fireflies
that teased the night
and sent it crawling
away as if to acknowledge
who's boss. its infinite dark
waiting behind everything
for the chance to
drown my frail apartment
and the limp chords
that protect it.



ii.

look what the cat
dragged under the birch tree
to devour slowly;
a sterling bird who's
feathers rise and fall
at the slow-length of micro-
organism life spans
glistening sunlit
to the sound-track
of wild children.



iii.

somewhere out there is a
beautiful woman, coughing
chocolate cake phlegm and
smoking a cigarette, or
running with a box of cutlery
with my name on it,
her one pair of shoes
collecting the particles
of tomorrow's yesterday
in their bottoms.