(haiku: chicken)

(rollin)

you were gray, subtly
flecked with silver and white.
glinting girls make me cry.

(on language)

our metaphors are angry
despite the sliding intentions.
no object. just whats real.

(a house)

never enough subjects or
objects or bright, airy words.
tangled, but not full.

(on the paperbag writers)

the angst-ridden poet
you dated in college? just a
paperbag writer now.

(hmmm. chicken.)

why are the herbivores
always the plumpest? is it
the waiting or wanting?

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