in my stomach
a well cinched knot-
job interview

rainy season
the forrest too
turns to rust

moon lit room-
the murmur
of storytelling

"kitsch-mas"
a plastic
plug in tree

the honk
of a winter goose
-rusty swing set

in the grave yard
years and leaves
piling up

echos in the tunnel
every day
is the same day

darkness
I can't see the light