New Year's Chips

New Year's chips
now grown stale 
on wilting plates.

Carpet...

Carpet...
Old chips crunch
beneath my feet.

Paper Horns

Paper horns,
now silent ~
lie on the floor.

January Third

January third,
sipping stale beer;
my ears ring.

We Huddle

We huddle
in the blue warmth
of our big TV.

There, a Dried Bit

There, a dried bit
of broken wishbone
from Christmas.

Crescent Moon

Crescent moon,
like a fingernail...
but cleaner!