Views of a Modern World

I am walking down the street, Chelsea market ahead of me What was that place I was last in? How many apple dollars are at risk right now? — ca. 2012 The secret of drunken haiku is that you don’t have to count syllables.  

#3 This vase doesn’t belong here. These flowers should be near you, instead of still with me. I wanted to plant the wine bottle in your apartment like a magic bean, sprouting lush growth, clearing the air all day in your absence.   I walked out of the bar, clumps of frothy crystal slipping and…

You’re fire, a black market bottle rocket bought from the back of a trunk from a Pedro’s “South of the Border” bag. I’m hoping for instant girlfriend, the one who I meet and that’s just it — it starts and continues and grows and goes on and on. I don’t want to date and date,…