i will not bore you

wishbones

Because he is not beautiful anymore 

he is waiting until he becomes distinguished.

until then the snow will melt,

and i will start seeds in eggshells

that i line up on the window sill

above the kitchen sink.

while i am gone

it is a good idea to buy a pretty girl flowers

and to walk alone in the snow and to 

smile at people you dont know

make lunch and sit by the window

the bits of silence between the noise

as part of my mythology

i am leaving today but i will come home soon.

The Postcard

once there was a man and he was like a post card

he was sent from one place to another

and there were a lot of words written on him

in different places.  some on his clothes some 

on his shoes some in his hair and some even 

on his private parts.  no matter what he was always 

going from one place to the next.  for the most part

he enjoyed it.  this traveling.  meeting different people

and learning the languages.   making notes on the different

words for the same things and the same words

for different things, like boot and flapjack.  

but sometimes he didnt want to be

a post card.  he wanted to be a letter.  

so he set off in search of an envelope.

this is the stupidest thing i have ever written but i am really tired

and jet lagged in manchester and i feel like a post card.

love ben