The king of the kitchen
has fried himself into a corner.
In the last remaining steps of life
sizzled flesh melts to the floor.

Recording the sounds
of your disappearance
has been an arduous task.
With a boom mic
and some headphones
I have uncovered
tiny fragments here and there.

The misery of your passion twinkles in the night.

I have highlighted you in bright neon yellow,
so that I may find you again
when I have turned the page and set you aside.

While it used to be
you drank to forget,
now it just reminds you
why you ran away.

I miss you

In a whisper
you went out
and never
lit again.

Euclid points in all directions
but none that far from me.
If you were on this plane my dear,
I'd send you my love
in polygonal approximations
to my heart.

I summoned dementia
and a longing for iced tea.
I traveled past euphoria
and landed on Santa's lap.
In the twinkling toes
of battered wives
sits the calmness
in your heart.

The communicability of frustration
and the pounding of nails into wood.

If you've ever...

The wooden pieces in my brain
are back again.

They'll tetris around
for a while

And then settle down
before bed.

Yellow

The boring of life
is quite yellow.

Ever

We lean
on each other like twisted pines
and shed our needling friends.
Drip by drip our wounds
outpour a thickened syrup
so ripe with scotch,
it intoxicates our dearest
loves back again.

The promise of chocolate
unwraps in colored foil.
Even in the hollows of your love
it is safe to bite

She wished to be broken
into pieces
like a magnet,

so that each piece of her
I would love
like the whole.

We are flinging pancakes
from the kitchen window
and the children in the streets
are screaming, "Look! Flying saucers!"

A delicious meal

I paddled over to you in a soup bowl
filled with fresh garlic cloves and spice,
and watched you drown
in the thickening paste.