All Things Confused

A dog with newspaper spots, barking wherever he goes.

Month: February, 2013


The green light

Always misses

The red light.


Always desires

A reverse light.


The Jam

Biscuit broken,

I reached for jam:

Jammed, not open.


After struggling,

I turned the jar

And held the top like the bottom.

The Last, Happy Suicide

Suicide is





But he or she left a note:

‘There’s too much comfort

In the world;

I’ve given up all my hope.’


People like to spend

Their bucks

To see their names

On coffee cups.


“Joe!  Joe!”

Whipped and double shot,

A child slave dies,

His order forgot.

Remote Control

I have OCD.

I am not a TV.

I turn the remote




From me.

The Parking Lot

I am a bird.

Bugs die on your windshield;

I find them delicious.


When do you stop?

When do you shop?


Desire is of coal;

Suppression, clarity.

Dig into the mine-

Extraction is to need.

The City

In the city, there is no night,

Only a slightly darker day.

The light bulbs packed together, tight,

Ceaselessly recall and portray.

Animate shadows crawl upon

A restless physicality.

They circumambulate the man

And cause internal malady.

This is the place that will excite,

Quicken the pace, and not give way.

In the city, there is no night,

Only a slightly darker day.

The Pedestrian

Sidewalks are off

The road

But they still take me.


So whenever I drive,

I have to stop.

For pedestrians crossing the street.

No Service

We are going

Through a tunnel-

But so pressing

Is the tone,

That even after our phones went dead,

We found we had missed calls.