Who’s still shy, deep in Autumn?
An apple peels off,
seeing an orange disrobe —
red and ripe, bashful.
George Santayana’s quote on men and women.
It gets under your skin. You can’t help helplessly scratching.
People love rumors,
like scratching on itchy lumps —
tingling and tickling.
Edward Said’s quote on mass slaughter.
What makes you lonely is not the night, but the light.
I walk home alone;
lights turn on and on and on —
I walk home lonely.
I don’t dream much; but when I do, I dream a lot.
If the day doesn’t break,
if interpreters are gone,
what’s the use of dreams?
