Skipped fall and the better part of winter.

This is the only Poem I wrote the year before last, at around this time.

Permanent frost settles
as desert wind embezzles
time as it stops in a triple-lateral back-flip
in an ice tray that refuses to melt
but chills to the smooth tones of Crosby, Stills, Nash
and sometimes Young.
What is being done
to the space my mind used to be,
the vacuum there sucks up internet ads
Put there for me but they don't know the searches were random,
A tandem jump into the surreal world.
Sonuvabitch though, someone's always watching
sitting in my smoke alarm or pocket.
I should get advice from Stephen Hawking
to turn whatever responsibility I have into a black-hole
with icicles
Cold, Numb, can't tell I can't feel anymore
doesn't matter its for the birds
which I can't stand
avian prejudice must be heard.
Eternal icy discharge falls from the sky
into both eyes
which poke forth from beneath the sand
The new-age afterbirth is at hand
to eat babies not fetuses
Kill Santa Claus and social-security
Promote nationalism and poison, minority stereotypes
convert them all into megabytes.