Also, (and real last one, I've got sleeping and crime busting to do) I'll be doing a limited press of prose work in July. Here are a few things I did today.

Bus Poem #1

Harker, Jekyll and Hemmingway

I fear that once
my pen runs out
I will

Bus Poem #2

Rapture

The driver returns
and I exhale.
Not today
I say, under my breath.

Bus Poem #3

Guilt

I wonder if
anyone notices
how my pants fit
and grins the Devil's grin
to themselves.

Bus Poem #4

Bus, stop.

Fucking ninety-one
at Atherton.


I don't do hyper-short form very often, so this was experiment, that (for the most part), was to see what I could shoot out between stops. This got fucking tiresome, but these four I thought were funny at least.