515.

What is this world? So
suffused with hopelessness and
lonely surrender.

514.

She was beautiful,
all full lips and tender eyes
pleading for escape.

513.

The odd shift of an
atrocity turned into
family, food, and thanks.

512.

She speaks softly, barbs
daggering cynicism
into blind minions.

511.

And so, with wary
hand extended, the circle
jerk finds completion.

510.

Dress me in your words
so I can press their meaning
deep into this skin.

509.

The armies of train-
yards march forever on in
a desperate parade.

508.

The naive standard
of the cosseted public
confuses purpose.

507.

I compare you with
simple pleasure to see how
you fit up against.

506.

A beautiful game,
charades and sleights of hands, met
under love's regard.

505.

His lithograph fades.
But persistent memory
denies abating.

504.

Trapped in this hovel
of misshapen dreams, turned in
and perverted out.

503.

A depression sinks,
weighed down with all the living
time cannot change.

502.

I've lead with my head
in every fall. Such self-
hewn lobotomies.