No curry, quiche, or cake a la mode makes
Life worth the living. And no downy pillow
Comforting as it may be can save the
Man with a glock in his mouth. For every
Sweet scent of vanilla-nectarine spray there
Is a toilet that wafts up a smell my
Brother calls “ass noodles”
Life as a sensual experience
Depends upon sound and vision. A
Yodeler stands next to a gospel choir.
Wind slaps over blades of grass so violently
It looks like a time lapse film. A ringtone
May be an IV bag filled with the
Saline fluid of a text message
I shouted at a statue of Confucius
In that moment I became art. On his
Pedestal I shared his seat and waited
For the gift of sound and vision. His
Silence was a high school philosophy
I envy the deaf and blind, that they
Define beauty in limited variables
Freeform formulas where X can be Y
And Y can be “Why not?”
At birth my niece was cuter than my
Nephew (and cried less) so I liked her more.