Comic Decorum of Whim

And if God really were my spoon
He would have thanked me.
"There is no spoon," he said,
rich breast milk dripping down
his unshaven chin.
"Shut up."

Comic: Virtues of Hunger

His mood was rife.
Demeanor remained frank.
He felt led estray by the manifest of time
Separated from beauty, and her lover.

Bring back dreams of green meadows!
Blue seas under a cobalt sky!
This discord is strange
like a lost river
in forgotton lands.