red and pink
pack your bags
tomorrow you’ll be a dad

and notes scribbled on the back
of receipts showing your desire
to not lose even one word of
whats coming

all the people wondering why you chose here
to write it down

will words
can a word
describe the experience

new – not feelings or experience
LIFE
of mine!

no desire to eat
placenta
but oh to see her break
into the world the very first time

that very first breath
i want to see her

but much more
to kiss your head
to pray for you

i want to hold my daughter

learn to play your favorite song
you’ll see the math
lose the music

PLEASE

never learn to read my writing
you’ll see the joy
lose the poetry

one.
giving you up
like ignoring
that itch on my leg

i know it’ll pass
if i just

wait.

but you’re so soft
cooling my sweat
slowing my heart
easing me to sleep every night

and the worst part?
i can justify you

two.
dont forget when you almost
died
and i was there to pull you out

remember how i held you
and watched over you as you cried

do i lose
points for bringing it up

why do you fear salvation?

of places that people go
and the things people say
to sound better to themselves

recalling three members of the
red hat society eating high-
end cajun food at an overpriced
restaurant and saying repeatedly

“tar-jshay” you shop at “tar-jshay?”
oh i shop at “tar-jshay” too! how i
love “tar-jshay” i’m so happy that you
too love “tar-jshay”

of cheap goods we cannot help
but love and loathe shopping
elsewhere when we can buy off-brand
cornflakes for 9cents/ounce

1 dollar
1 box

chew on cardboard but refresh with
off-brand honey by “whose-it-a-honey”

1 dollar
1 bear

of the things i call places
because they make me laugh

recalling two members of my family
sitting in a free car in a wealthy
neighborhood laughing at ourselves
and our fascination with

tarshit
and
wal-shart

there are certain things i heard
in childhood about pine cones of

which i can only say that i hope
they turn out to be just not true

poetry began because of lost love
or something like it

writing continued because the writer
needs a plight

for reasons unknown to him
he sabatoges his relationships
fails miserably

and finds a plight

writing stuck around because
life was hard
people were mean
hope was lost and
difficult to find

then one day i looked and saw
writing stopped because of
wedding

wedding
stopped my writing

life was not hard
days were not lonely
jobs were not boring
hope was easily found
love was next to perfect

and is

writing started again
because life isn’t sad
its funny

and
writing went on
because writing is where
i can do anything
take a look
its in this poem

an emo without a plight
a punk with perfect hope
and music so sad i want to cry

makes me laugh. and then one day i looked and saw

language is just as beautiful describing
the loss of
a four legged ass
as a two

little bugs
i cannot see
and they are NOT
nice to me

just north of guilt
i bought a summer home
with hopes of a place
to run when you’re filled
with
angry

but you send me there
more than i could have
fathomed

she said she said
one more pass through the valley of the moon
one more and all clean

my friend, he does it just thrice
thrice!
thats all and he thinks he’s fine

but i find that shrubbery
a tid bit rubbery

and as hard to keep clean as
booger home with weeds of hair

keep it up till you’re good and done
good and done
i said i said

lesson 8
with some well placed adjustments
has become
possom 8
and the lecture for possom 8
is much more bearable…

on to possom 9

things like evening are
inebriate-ors
that is
they cause relaxation and – on occasion
lowered inhibitions

but night time
much less than wine
brings joy to my

well…
you know

i just found out
the hebrews used
neither rhyme nor meter

this cheers my heart
and raises my hopes

my poetry doesn’t either!

dr. jay ellis says you should
have kept your job as an edit-

or and never have moved into
the world of writing but he

was one of eight self proclai-
med cormac mcarthy-ists and we

all know how much that validat-
es his opinion but i wish that

i could invite you back from
the grave to come and stop by

my local barnes and noble and
do a simple reading of your fine-

est work and share with us just
how brilliant each of your well

picked words was and laugh at
those who’ve survived you like

one mccarthy-loving-poetry-hate-
ing-extremely-sad-and-confused-dr.

you see
hack and slash
murder and slice
sound better with a beat

i have to offer an
uhpalluhgee

you see
my words sound much better
with a sweet. slow. melody.

and i uh
pall er
jize

because today the music is staying
in my head
today the music is staying
in my head

in my head
but the chorus is sweet.
and you’re missing the slow
melody
and my words sound much better
with the melody

or with flatulence.

either one.

and there goes the beat.