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Number 3

i guess i've given up on the great

amnesty for regret

we are just not all going to strike

our sympathetic nerve together

all hit our funny bones

at the same time

some of the mistakes you made

are going unatoned 

some of the injured will

not be alert

when malice expires

"upon the midnight"

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six birds fly the form of freckles near your mouth i knew that you were the face of god that the sky was there for reading

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god told me to get a haircut i was looking for my haiku about winter i dream i am already at work between the cars of the train a single flake of snow i have to write some of this shit down

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i want to taste the female flavoring in your skin in your mouth to begin writing place the tip of the pencil at the top left corner of the page the last time i got my hair cut my mother was alive