Up on the hill,where i do look below the flowers and beyond the cliff beyond the trees and the brook wind stirs the grass like a sift or a reader in the nook not with speed but with thrift

probably long enough to give up this childish “god” thing? probably long enough to figure out how to stop killing each other?

saying to one who does not feel that there is anything beyond this momentary pubic hair of existence that “there has to be something more” & that “there has to be something

two wee lads grew up in the same village--- with their houses only a short distance away they became close friends at an early age playing the same sports, both learning how to

The spider runs, here and there. The glass burns here and there. Still it runs, here and there.

Finish work. Come home. TV on. Repeat.

The hall paint is fading, chipped and scratched. Perhaps it should be fixed? Would I feel better, if the paint is not fading, chipped and scratched?

spewificaly gifted daughters and sons horrorificly armed with phones and guns cruising on the fumes of uppers and downers riding forth into hails of texts and bullets