rik-rat corn pile

Wednesday, March 13, 2019


We’re not dead yet

Winter’s grip around my neck
Is starting to melt…
And I can feel those herniated discs

Slowly retreating.

November, December
You did nothing to comfort me.
And you can fuck yourself.

your ice paralyzed me.

January, February
Determined and with muscle
Was the only way to escape you.

Now March into April with me.

What was once soft
Like a porcupine’s belly
Is akin to a turtle tummy.

And I don’t care.

Spring flowers will soon bloom.
Robins will eat worms.
and I’ll cycle again.


  1. Replies
    1. tom tom tom. can you tell my seasonal poetry is a bit pessimistic? it's been a rough fall/winter. but I'm coming out of it.