Cataclysmic Carotid Clotters Conference Catastrophy

Frogs throbbing.
Guns out.
Spring is coming.
The mouth is open and screaming.

Raw wind,
Tornado tomorrow.
A head full of clouds,
a fist full of air.
This life is a hill to be climbed,
They say.


Frogs throbbing,
soon the pines will have accompaniment.
My noose unraveld
I stand staring into my mind.
My head in a basket.
My hands running through my hair
as an old man in golf pants
freestyles death on the pavement
finally knowing what his last breaths taste like.