Thanks.
Since we are still in the Halloween season,
I will move forward with a few, kind of, ghostly poems.
This first one is called "Meteorology Index."
"Between absinthe, and Corinthians,
between linoleum and Lamanites, ghosts, what else?
Ghosts, and more ghosts.
Ghosts who haunt the salt shaker and sugar bowl, who
howl like pesos as you pass.
Ghosts who speak of skulls in careful English,
who smoke cigarettes indoors, whose heads are titled
by a toxic lack of locks.
Ghosts who write love letters to ghosts, who linger light
as book pressed butterflies upon the lips of the living,
who taste of lye and lollipop alike, who stand,
who always stand behind you, like a lightning crippled
tree."