autumn is a bike ride
by rcribay
at night when
the temperature is
low enough to finally
wear a sweatshirt
and you begin to
dissolve.
at night when
the temperature is
low enough to finally
wear a sweatshirt
and you begin to
dissolve.
times like these
lacking comfort
given up for adventure
standing up while riding
with the wind in your face
passing the crowd by
street lights aglow
parties but you dont partake
food and friends
thanksgiving
so worth the sacrifice
i hate
cliches
but the sunset
set this hallway
aflame
that ethereal
wavelength
soaking
in the freshly
waxed floors.
no inspiration
except for poo,
poo, poo, poo, poo
glorious poopoo
smooshed and smeared
and oozing across the page
in the form of words
and when on toilet i did sat
things came out and i did shat
the things i knew to come they did
unfortunately some on the lid
but poo is as poo does and we all poo poo
from small ones to big ones its still doo doo
be hard be it small or be it round
best if we keep it in our pants, in the bowl, off the ground
be it well written or be it shit
anything today will fit
poo in a can, a crapper, a bus, a tree
a day it will be of pooetry
tickled fallen broken lacking
all things never wanted throwing
out the back door trash can burning
lighting laughing smiling churning
noting nothing ever smoking
feeling nothing never wanting
waning knowing never stopping
till then growing walking talking
stalking
it’s hard to see past your own nose
it’s hard to put that in your prose
and when i’m on a slump
and revel in muck
i want to throw myself in the road
we fall into
bed like jumping into
the ocean welcoming
the undertow of
our dreams and
gravity’s
effect.
cut the tension
with a noodle
then you know
good company
Of the memories
What is a memory when even you
don’t see
What is a memory when you can not drift to
some other time
and world and space
How often do people say don’t dwell on the past
Live in the moment
Why not when you have not a single regret
Why not live off in the other spectrum
Do you feel it like I do
A gentle, warm Summer breeze back when I was…
its night and so
in a bit we’ll go
to places we
would never see
without dreams of
the things we love
the hopes we live
and things we give
its night and so
in a bit we’ll go
to places we
tonight will see
in dreams of blue
with me
with you
its night and so
to dreams i go
when you leave a roger
write a little note about it
share it with your friends
and let the world know
your joy
your weight before and after
consistency and whether or not
today you had sinkers
floaters
or exploders
white knuckles gripping the wheel
i drive hard through ike
wishing I was in another place
or in another time,
because either would do
to get me away from
the hurricane
swank
‘fusion,’ he says
taste’s exactly like it shouldn’t
vomit
change clothes thrice
share about impact
pan over-fried sole fish
dreams and realities
in a big puzzle
serving as one piece can seem mundane
until the puzzle is assembled
that one little hole must be filled
this lava
that courses
through my
veins
these spiders
that crawl
through my
brain
they have
always felt
just this
way
and it
does always
burn the
same
this night
that bodes
me to
shake
You have pined up all your hopes on me
you have nailed me to the cross
Do you actually think that I will resurrect for you?
On my way out, you cheerfully threw at me your
“Work Hard” pet phrase.
Hell, I have aged at the touch of you
my joints hurts in the open air
my back responds to well to the gravity’s pull
only this snow so white on the ground
keeps me from hurrying to the devil’s mouth
soft – like carpet you can lay on
delectable – like a fresh glazed cake donut
exciting – like week one of football season
soothing – like a shower with the right water pressure
clean – like bare feet you don’t have to wipe off to come inside
diverse – like “smothered burrito or cajun mahi mahi?”
comfortable – like your own car with your own loud music
relaxing – like sunday driving
bright – like needing sunglasses after the snow
clear – like crisp air turning mist after a snow
pretty – like an afternoon walk around the lake
roomy – like the width of the isles at the grocery store
spicy – like the mustard on your beer brats
better – like america
i remember 16 as loud as
a gunshot, yet as
boring as cornfeilds in the
summer
it was permanent, then
the insanity
that is
that comes along with
knowing just how long
your
arms
are
exactly
and
not being precisely
sure
not being exactly
perfectly
fucking
sure
of how to use them
i remember 16 as dead as
a cemetary yet as frantic
as hanging to the side of
the earth
(with your nails)
it was all so fragmented, then
love
that is
and now looking back i seem
to miss
every
single
breath
i
took
of
every
day
and the rain that dripped outside
my windows on some stolen night
with the fruition of my higschool
fantasies and the bane of my
young-adult
ones
i remember 16 as well as i remember
anything else these days:
most often when i’d like not to.
A leak in the hull.
It’s dripping is heard louder
Than roars of the sea
upon discovering thread count
i re-evaluated my life
shortly thereafter
my wardrobe followed
Stormed shadows crawling
Across nearly frosted lawns,
The passage of time.
that’s pretty much it.
when you need them they make sure
that you fit into the square
whether your a circle or a triangle
and that you never have stolen
or curse
or lied
and that you love to listen to people
talk about themselves
and you’ve never lost your temper
and you think about others before yourself
they make sure that you are
a perfect
square
with
all
your
sides
the
same
length
so when the customer walks in
your smile is as shiny and warm
and deft and dead as
the red colored vest you wear
here is some honey to eat eh.
but what a-boat your weight eh?
holy crap there’s a bee!
er, way more than one bee!
do we stay and get fat or get goin’ eh?
