Raccoon City

He lay awake nights, afraid of the new neighborhood. Afraid of his new house and its hostile windows. There were far too many houses glowing on the hillside, with an unbearable inky darkness connecting the yards. Separating his hillside of stark raccoon eyed homes from the east hill was a frightening throughway arterial, where the fancy cars as well as beaters raced their way to more vital parts of the city. He missed the old neighborhood nestled between two dense commercial districts. Living in the woods is scary, and it always has been since childhood. There are bars here, and faces to get to know. They are a hike away. There are no familiar TV shows tonight. There are just branches outside the windows and raccoon eyes in the black. There are no comforting neon or internally lit signs from any sightline. He reminds himself about being a grown man. He shuts his eyes and puts the dread to bed.

Solstice light savings

somewhere or time between nights end
and the new day Im awake with thirst
from the prior dissipation
and remember the darkness we danced in
and gave host to a few hours ago
and in reaching for your shoulder
I remember there is light,
just as much or more
sunshine stored through the winter
The days only grow short a few more spins
and before this mad christmas even
the light will grow a little longer
each spin
I'll outgrow the envy for moldy poets
that fucked around
and fictional toughs
and reflect and revise my myth
and honor the one I chose to share it with

Crystal Ball

the future is an amateur treadmill
a palette for mistakes
repeated folly and lucky breaks
calories unburned, candles cracking aching.
The future is a tightrope for the slow learner
and indecisive lane turner
the past are pruned limbs, ignored lessons, and
pardoned treachery.
Glory is only so because it comes as one big surprise.

Scumbag Drawllim