mystery science

nothing good ever came out of 3:39 a.m.
the world hates me at 4:40 a.m.

slow clap for the capital workers on
this union bridge
and how they
in their infinite wisdom
barrel chested their way
into the dungeon

don’t try to read that
it is nonsense
all poems are

s’why i don’t write ’em

ye faithful

sometimes,
i believe nothing
except what I can see
and touch
the love of kids, whose laughter
fills backseats

sometimes,
i believe everything
about mary
and god
and the son
i believe the things
i believed in my youth