grabbing spoon from drawer
and thrusting forth in practiced
choreographed high school weight-training-class lunges
i threaten eye gouging
i challenge you and your muscles
with fierce revealing of my canines
i turn spoon in hand back and forth
intimidation is my game
blunt object is my weapon
i will win you with my grammar
i will attack at your jugular
if i can remember my junior high school anatomy
you stumble back in fear as
i attack in glory
Day: April 18, 2010
Parental stalking
poetryStanding over you
Watching you sleep
In then out
In then out
Unaware of my presence
Unaware of anything
Safely resting
Completely without fear
Perhaps because you know
That I would be here
If you needed me
So there is no fear
that you will ever need me
Yappy sumbitch
poetryI often wonder if talking to a dead man
is considered dialogue or soliloquy.
But I guess you’re not really
around to tell me anyway, and
therein probably lies the answer.
One day I’ll die and we
can continue that conversation
that we started a hundred times.
Until then, I suppose,
I’ll just keep talking to myself.
the sieve and the sand 