Monday, November 29, 2010


I'd say -
Damn those plans I've made,
those ones I keep trying to make.
If I could wake up with you
for years on end I'd try and live
through this rain -
Damn that inward cowering,
those screeching-metal guts
tearing and wheeling
through my blood.

Damn it!
Bless this!

I'd grow something new.
You'd be the gardener,
I'll try to be the dew.