My 10%

I wish I still had my old rock tumbler.

I would put all of life's ugliness and grit into it's great, big barrel.

I would spin it and spin it and spin it, until I was left with handfuls of semi-precious stone.

I would thread them, equal spaced, on yards and yards of golden chain.

You can wrap them around my neck tightly

and call it my 10% investment.

Installation

Something sucks the sap from my tree;

leaves me wondering what to do next.

Like a thin mist enveloping me,

wrapping me in a sweet, tender bliss.

I get caught up in it, or fight it off,

with a 1-2-3 sucker punch to the gut.

Why is paradise always in the center of the city,

mixing with the beggars and the whores?

rhapsody

when it started i was riding a tortoise shell

but was taken by circus freaks and flying ants

and put in a burlesque side show

everything was compartmentalized

labeled down to letters, down to lottery

all broken down to molecule

it became so broken, that the start was lost

side by side contentment had been eaten

the ants thought it sugar cubs