mehh

I am in a bit of a rut. I also tried for, like, an hour and a half to form some kind of poem about female serial killers (after reading, in one of those horrible Wikipedia-sparked trainwrecky internet binges, tons of stories about them) ... failure for now, but we'll see, maybe they'll crop up. Anyway, 31...! Wish me easier writing from now on, eh, guys?
-T

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The snow came early this year
and keeps changing its mind.
The headlines crow pith and filth.
Away out west the red sun leers at the dunes,
and women on film with botch-lipped grins
can be heard all day to make terrible confessions.
So many lucid points of rain
deck a thin street curved as a ewer’s handle.
I ate a mealy pear, pulled up the shade, and dreamed
I bared my teeth under a huntsman’s moon.