I’ve just spun a web.
A web between a tree and another tree.
They are my trees now.
I’ve just spun a web between them.
Here comes a bug. Damn. It flew past me.
Here comes a bug.
Trapped.
Yes.
I have a bug.
Another. I have two bugs.
Noah
A text message at 2:36 AM woke me from a dream about a talking snake who wore a tube sock as pants. In the dim light of my phone I could see the outline of the pile of clothes on my computer chair that looked like a man sitting with his legs crossed. I might have known that his name was Charlie. It’s a common name, ill fit for a man who practices taxidermy and collects rocks from the bottoms of lakes he scuba dives.
Charlie tips his hat at me and takes a long drag of his cigarette. Charlie knows, of course, that one shouldn’t smoke lest they risk lung cancer, but Charlie has never been one to care about the time or reason of his death.
The talking snake warned me of a great flood that would submerge the city. The steady pattering of rain outside my window reminds me that I never let my cat in last night. I hear the soft mewing of my baby outside. She patiently waits for me to open the front door. I hope she can swim.
Verismo (Opera Pt. 2)
Patrick sold out of heroin so instead he hands out flowers
Empty bodies find their way to the party
Some boy dressed as Jason has been talking for hours
About geography or geology and its infinite power
We tell him he’s too late, “yesterday was Halloween”
Clouds appear to nourish out plastic red flowers
Opera (Opera Pt. 1)
It was a serenade of hipster proportion
that happened to be outside this dingy house
that was two blocks or so from campus
that was packed to the brim with costumed folk
that had been searching endlessly for
that perfect party to end the night with
It was one of those kinds of parties
where flirting was limited to the people
who were full of liquid courage
from the community liquor or ecstasy that was scored
from that kid in the back dressed as Gerard Way
