This one...jesus God. Ack. This was written a few months after the first one. March 10th, 1986.

WINTER BURIAL

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Gray skys in my presence- what can I say- it's not a sunny day- I could care less-gloom is my toy, I must confess. The winds sound like chimes in the distance echo vibrations of my glass window. The lamp in my room is a religious experience. Casts white angels onto the walls. Angels lying in a baby blue paint sky. The mirror, on which candid photos are strewn, casts reflections of this place of non exsistence- exsistence to my body-but my mind embodies itself in between the lines of notebook paper. Music is a harsh whine- contrast to the serene quiet of what is beyond the outlooking window. Autumn seems to have come out of hibernation, it never went to sleep, just got trapped beneath all the white snow. Overcoats hang in the over-capacitated hall closet-jackets now occupy the floor around the missed chair. dogs bark next door and my cat crys in the night.

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There is evidence of SLIGHT potential in the poem, but over-all..very smelly and stinky bad!!