Invisible Illness 

My head is full of nuts

I’ve saved for winter

No one can see them

so they must not be there

When I crack open my mouth

they fall at your feet

You make a great crunch

when you walk out my door

Let me fall in love

with my binoculars

Make you closer or farther

depending which way I look thru you

And with a hot breath

fog you up

When you walk in thru my door

and you’ve already brought your broom

Let me fall in love

with my binoculars

Make you closer or farther

depending which way I look thru you

Mourning Routine 

All the old stuff is old

The new stuff is new and good

How long does it take to accumulate

the smell of your head in your cap

I couldn’t smell it now if I stuck

my nose in the air

But if I passed you on the street

I could sniff you out of the crowd

Some old stuff wafts up my nose

and I become some old thing

like I’ve stuck my head

inside my TV

And then we’re all gone again

So I make a smelly breakfast

and ignore the static

holding my hair upside down