It’s 3:06 a.m. on Whistlestop Boulevard, which is the main drag through the Whistlestop Neighborhood proper, the best neighborhood in the best county in the best state of the entire country—and if you think I’m exaggerating come on down to Whistlestop Boulevard and you will be amazed.

The fifth mug of espresso should finally color any ripped pieces of cardboard schemes that surf around the stream.

Maybe forever Medusa’s quick look
from under her cowgirl cut
catches you at the party

Carmen's a fusty dresser, lace and pearls, normal looking, which puts her out of Nick's league, plus she's never given him any reason to like her except his first day at the office when she handed him the standard corporate welcome basket: a canned ham, a selection of chips and a bag of peanuts.

Every sunset is bloody. Nations
just wait for fireworks to pop off

Hands dig into the wood of the chest
Hands to kill the wood in the chest

The moon is my mother. She is not sweet like Mary.

This is what I do when I have to move forward
even when there is no place to go.
My little wild dog and I are out in the wild grass

We think that perhaps God is hiding somewhere
in the numbers, spitting out ever more
digits to Pi, that irrational lullaby

you take your radio 

down to the sea