Little green artichoke
you have met your final day...

I empty another box...
clothes from a different fad...

We sat behind a window that peered into the world,
where every mind passed by...

Sifting through this landscape
stretched far and wide, yet few between...

Above a cheaply plateaued landscape
of dime-a-dozen evergreens...

Dirty Russians
broken bicyclettes...

Under the dim falsified glow
of a lean and towering Eugene street lamp...

I woke up this morning
just to pick up the front page...

A conjunction is...
a simple function...

If writing is the cheapest
form of art...

Indecision haunts me; binds me to a cold, dark...
there is no way to escape its gaze...

Well, you know the day ive had
those days that never seem to fade...