One would be amazed
if one really knew
what one was really
capable of strapping
to one’s hood.
With the right set
of bungees and a
strong piece of rope,
anything is possible.
Now tell your uncle
to stop fucking around.
And cut the boy loose,
would you?
routine hits morning with a lack
of poetic beauty as i address
your problem of peeing on yourself
by changing your children’s depends
and tossing them to the hall way as
you smile for the camera to say hello
to great grandma and wonder if you’ll
ever know who she is or she’ll be
gone first but now its time for o’s
on your plate or lack thereof and a
nap before its off to the only place
we go all week with childcare and
you smile knowing nothing of what’s
about to be said, or sung, or done, all
the while i just keep hoping you know
hope
joy
lack of fear
before your father did at 20
the day was dark
damp and dank
with rolling,
rumbling,
crashing,
shocking,
shaking,
reverberating thunder
and flashes of lightning,
so bright,
lighting the night,
jaggedly stretching
from earth to sky,
briefly burning into my eyes,
remaining burned in memory
long after the darkness returned
and consumed the light completely,
so that only the damp and dank,
the dark remained.
And I haven’t seen the
stars so bright in
such a long, long time.
And I wonder where
you are tonight,
and why I always
start my thoughts with
And.
speaking your muddled mind
you breathe through pain filled
throat ache smoke filled rooms
of unheated cement walls covered
in ancient plaster leaking none
less dangerous insulation drinking
fermented re-gifted tea leaves from
paper pixie sized but not branded
cups thinking these folks understand
your words when really they’re more
fascinated by your fashion statement
of plastic mold poured foot accessories
popular where you’re from but that’s
nowhere near here
Left my
briefcase
at home
last night
now I
just can’t
re mem
ber what
I was
trying
to fin
ish to
day so
I will
have to
start all
over.
Fuck.
it might be fun;
it might be sophisticated;
it might just devolve
into a sophistication showdown
as one hundred would be intellectuals
attempt to justify their inflated egos,
without recognizing the impracticality
of most of their theories,
except in and so far as
they get their tenure.
I’m not sick,
and yet i’m home
as my class begins
in exactly 1 minute,
and while i sit,
distracting myself,
it still does not work
becasue in the back
of my mind all i can do
is think about the mountain
of papers, of work
sitting just to my left
beckoning to me
calling to me
convincing me to work,
despite my laziest misgivings.
you take things so dirty
and word them so beautiful
you cause me to
desire to speak the things
i despise the most
and then back them up with
czech etymologies
why do i write these things down?
they remain on a page
they do not grow to
godzilla like proportions
do i think that they will move?
you
or
the world?
much less even a leaf
much less even myself
often times
they lean
towards the garbage
my invisible pen pal
putting a weapon
in his mouth.
No-one ever
went to bed angry
with a new free car.
But no one ever
woke up happy with
a sore neck.
How quickly
things can change.
for the words i wrote last night
and published into the neversphere
i forget what you said
but your brilliance will live in
the foreversphere
maybe i let the
grass grow around me
say i call the world
the moon
suppose i find nirvana
in the sky caught
by my unfocused eyes
and say i do it
soon
if only it had never happened
i could go on in peace,
but i one upped you,
embarrassed you,
showed you up,
and though i should exult
in my intellectual victory,
all i’m left with is fear
that i will pay for this,
one day soon.
i am enamored by the beauty of
the birds singing through
the streets, my eyes glued,
sun whirling through the
windows growing trees
hidden beneath the carpet –
then i go back to my apartment,
after the world,
which is rotating and i
must jump in because
me and
you
we must have the world spinning
behind us
that is how we work
so our world is on a
spinning pedestal
and
i’m convinced
that
it’s all my fault
that i am dizzy.
I’ve become quite accustomed to
your certain brand of rhetoric,
and though lunacy is in my blood
I’m certainly no lunatic
so shout another awkward joke
and make the comp’ny cringe
they’re all far to prim and proper
to be wand’ring on our fringe
we’ll scare them all away from here
so they can find their own damn henge.
the day defeated me
drenched in rain
that drifted in mists
strangled by
leafless branches aching to
bloom suffocated with
a sky as gray as dusty bones.
i give up
just let me have tomorrow.
on flight through a campus on two legs
old trees seem newer than beer kegs
we stop to walk slow
on ground they dont mow
“graduate” me to God begs
You may hate it when the
rain makes mud of the
driveway, and soaks your
brand new shoes, and
gets your hair all
messed about.
But no matter where
you find yourself in
this world or any
other,
it’s going to rain
sometimes.
So deal with it.
table covered completely
with half-priced candy;
thank you for rising, Jesus.
We would
laugh about certain
points, and
take away a
certain heavy meaning
from a very heavy
thing.
We would neuter
the worst, so
it wasn’t so bad
anymore.
At least,
that’s what
we hope
is going to
happen.
(others)
worthless
you died and your followers saved
your remains bowing to them even
to this day
(you)
perfect
you died and your followers came
looking for you only to find the living
do not dwell with the dead
eight months,
one band,
two jobs,
and a trailer-load
later,
they’re home.
hand meets point in perfect
burning harmony giving
messiah-esque scars on the
reality version of the worst
television show ever
literally in a darkroom with some
ancient artifact one called film
whom some like many other things
will argue is artistic because it’s
old but as time wears on eventually
people will pick up paper and say
this is strange…
why so tactile?
and then you’re reminded vanity
is you writing you reminding yourself
of you
