Today I breathe caffeine and good dirt.
Yesterday was all vacuum and humidity.  

The heavy weight of headache hanging
upside down and drying out like a deer
carcass in the front of my skull reminds
me not to look too closely.  

Can’t squeeze any more
rom the Shakespearean rag,
it’s all felt and funny and dry
and I am none of those things.   

Short-cutting realism, I am striding
from signifier to sign, stringing up
Xmas ornaments made from last week’s trash.