The trees bloom

Out, green and white;

I watch their doom

Walk- men and their might.


I get skittish at times when things are too heavy;

Not only a weight beyond my naked body,

But a mass of things that is too heavy for me

To even conceptually carry.


These things break my body; they ruin my mind

And taint my thoughts; they break my heart and

Beat my shoulders.


But still I’d try: over and over, for the longest periods

Of time, my arms shiver and my thighs quake,

My back splits and bleeds, and my loins are rolled

over themselves as I struggle with all my might


To bear the weight I know. Just the things I know;

I know them so well, are there any others?


I hate myself because I’m honest; I don’t love myself

Because I love to lie.


Oh, my God, Yeshua, I am sorry, of course,

But I am sorry for myself; I cry for my body

And for my feelings. There’s nothing in me

That cries for you; not a fiber or amino acid

That respects your body like they do mine.


Things are changing, but not nearly enough is;

Great mountains of things surround the valley

Of my home, but there’s no church bell.


I walk nearly alone, sustained by another’s

Flesh and blood, they who I resent;

The persons touch that I recoil from,

Whose face I see with my back.


That body changed my own, or else I’d be alone;

Altered my mind and took flesh from my bones,

Gave me life and denied me peace of death;

Told me no when I wanted a yes, all for mystery’s cause.


I am not angry, my body is fury- I have killed God,

But he keeps coming back to life.


What water is there to cleanse my hands with?

Tears and streams do not suffice.


What have I done, the murder of all murderers?

What jail have I escaped, when my feet run freer

Than Horaces?


Still, I am right in my wrong, for the spirit of her and her brother;

She comforts my afflictions in her brother’s flesh;

The body of debt condemned becomes my own

As comforter’s tongue speaks for me.


She whispers truth and wisdom, so gently

Holding my back, cupping blood that

Never needed be spilt.


She pours onto me his, and his blood cools

Like a cold mid-March.




Michael Feldersen

Michael Felders drove to town,

Once up, once upside down;

Driving sharply, turning tight

Michael might not return tonight.


fueling engine with oil slick,

Michael drives an old ford stick.

He came for work and the pay

so that each and every single day

The felders wouldn’t have to pray

That God alone would save the day.


In section 4, spot 2nd from the left,

Michael Felders parks, so smooth and deft.

He locks the car and walks to unit 9-B;

The apartment of his only family.


There and plain gruffly stood the stain,

A man, the wife beater, a crowbar- he sits

With beard to match-, he taps his foot,

Marking feet to stone and dirty grit.


Tightly bound the carpet drops

Bouncing off the corner shops;

People pay for streets with light;

They get it at 8pm every night.


He stands up and turns out
Clubbing iron into flesh,
Michael falls down the stairs;
His night now silently begun.


At 7 O’clock he wakes to fog

Amid the bushes, the smell of fire

A siren; he is afraid of returning

In disgrace, a courier to ire.


Mike hails at the truck, spitting seeds,

Tonguing muck, and dips his lip

Beneath potatoes and yam blood.


At the bottom, his head a mess,

He wonders how a city could be

Like this; when better to be a

Swimming fish than reptiles on land.


Mr. Michael is from Norway:

His family hails from far away;

Coming from wind and snow,

Hills of icy shards that gleam below-

Feldersens sailed here as we know.


The bank closes at half-past noon,

Shutting its doors not a moment too soon.

For those who work in the 303

The end of day was too far to see.






How To Cure Insomia- And Other Fears

Step 1: lie in bed

Step 2: take pillow

Step 3: Sufficiently fluff it

Step 4: prepare yourself for sleep

Step 5: Take out your Beretta 9mm

Step 6: Load pistol

Step 7: go to sleep


Was this guide helpful? See our other instructional guides, such as “swimming with your pet grizzly”, “the beach: are clothes required?”, and, “I feel alone, please send help”.



Natural Empire

You drink oranges, I drink lime;

We both drink water every time:

At breakfast, lunch, brunch, and tea,

We both need it, you just as much as me.

Cucumbers are good and coconuts are best,

But living without water is quite the test.

For strength and vigor, the manly frame depends on it, just as

Cool, timely marbled women sit

Next to a vase of it.

Water for falls, water for all;

Water in dams, water on call;

Still water we drink, funeral or ball,

For water is in us, evil and all.