Notes muting themselves
in a breeze sometime whirlwind
— symphonic silence.




A beagle’s howls hang
like a question mark
— a moonless night.



                          As the Heathens Rage

My Sampson hair lies clumped
on barber shop floors
— half lives of defiance.



                          Wire Tap

If they had not tapped my phone
I know she would have called
— a farewell confession



                           Conniption Fit

She may as well have taken the stars
than to have left me
— shredded intentions.



                      Teaching me the silver bullet

That kills the full moon
In the werewolf —
She came on like an eclipse.