Acclimatize my house of reason, dear Jesus.
These seasons are treasons of an evil beacon...

Poetry, you were but specks of dust underneath the...
crumbles of cookie Oreo next to my touch pad...

I'm letting go of the helium tank.
Out of this gas, I call love...

standing near a precipice
too wide, too deep...

With tears I cry but mainly smile
to those around me for a while...

It’s December. The weather is cold.
Sometimes is hot. We live in Texas...

with a dirty boot
and a pocket knife in hand...