in the wistful morning shadow

you say how are you/ i say fine

its the expectation

leading to the ultimate appropriation


f*** that person who

started this vicious circle

an unspoken pact between

the entire populous



to never, ever

speak true words

and avoid, always avoid

hard cold facts


the shadow moves

a little as time passes

and our states digress to where

doctors of syntax can’t save us


how are you

fine, she says

emotional turmoil

for the wicked


a never-ending rollercoaster

the buckling of our seatbelts

i will never lose you

but do understand


there’s no point in fine

except your shiny hair

how much i love you

can only be expressed


by telling you

the something in me

a maiden hath no tongue

and i’d like for passion


a mighty embrace of un-fine

not to be like anything else

urging you to keep counting

daisies and buttercups



lifting my head

towards the wall

a no smoking sign

says kill them all


the explicit rhyme bothers me

doctor, help

confirm how un-fine i am

i tear it off the wall


when you lose control

upset that b follows a

and yes, signifier-signified

is a non-sequitur


wait till a wave of calm elevates you to

the synagogue where i learned to pray

where doctors told me

we only move in action


(an object to stir


which is another story)


it’s not your cup of tea

so add a little sugar and stir

is what you could bring on

lift up your head


you mighty fine un-fine