“Virgin Snow”: the executioner / admires the fresh powder: / a white sheet inviting / the bright red spread of stain. / no two alike.
“Doorbusters”: Desperate,/ the mortuary ran/ an amazing special/ at dawn on Black Friday./ They didn’t expect/ the coffin lids to bust open.
“Thanksgiving Ritual”: Mom loves to baste the human / in cardamom, cloves and cumin.
though long dead / departed firemen / still awaken to the air horns / and head to the House / spirits collecting downtown / aimless as smoke
“The Morbid Custodian”: cleaning the coffins / he contemplates how much dust / is really to dust #haiku
“In the Coffin”: near dusk he awakens / but his limbs throb / numb with sleep / and he wonders: / What have the worms done / this time?
a vortex of snow / spirals in dance / above a frozen body / happy to have escaped / the bitter chill — / happier still / to have become it
“winter morning at the crime scene”: hot iron fizzles / the radiator hisses / blood drops boil and spit
