poetry

Hard Water

poetry

I don’t use your nomenclature
so pay close attention while
the system that you’ve grown
in to is
dashed upon the metaphoric rocks
that ever hover oh-so-near the
metaphoric ship that the lot of us
ride

I’ve got the life preserves, prepared
emergency lines so we can
drag you back if you’re caught
in the tide, but first you
have to
grab on.

ah.

poetry

the power went out
and for twenty whole minutes
we faced the thought of no
computers
internet
or even the ability to read
in our candleless
flashlightless
preparedless
world of electricity
and i was shocked
at how dark dark gets

i thought it poetic
but don’t own a non-electric
way to express what i thought

solitary man

poetry

i will travel to the end and back
because it is fun for me no matter
how much matter gets taken or how
much matter it is, or bother, or does;
yet, i digress,
the interest you inject, warranted
or
not
into my mirrors (placed around
my tiny square home)
does not give you the right,
and to be very honest with you
i wish to no longer allow you,
to then get
yourself all
worked up in
your curious
little torrent
and expect me to
give you
the
time
of
day
nay,
i am a solitary man.

it doesn’t so much matter what you think if there is an absolute truth then thats just whats true and there isn’t any way around it, some things are subjective like whether or not you like olives, one day you don’t like them and then you try them in gin martinis and you’re like ‘holy crap, this is delicious’ so the next thing you know you love them. well some things may be like that, but most are not. most are just the way things are and the way they’re not and you’re going to have live with the decisions you’ve made, but sometimes you also have to live with the decisions others have made for you. some of those were made thousands and thousands of years ago and may be the reason you have to wear glasses to see the chalk board starting in seventh grade and then progress into needing them all the time except during ultimate frisbee when you seem to be able to see okay because a frisbee is larger than a ball, large enough in fact that even without corrective lenses you can see, but it all points to something doesn’t it? does’t it point to something like a problem with how we came out? but we seem so unbelievably well polished and complex, how can the whole system work but little things be broken? where was the line drawn and why? these are just the beginnings of my ponderings and should you have made it this far, could you bear through just a few more? this time in verse.

poetry

guppies are just like fish
but smaller
and your hand in mine
just like mine
though i’m taller and
you’re softer

but thoughts like these
are not more quiet
or more gentle
against the skin
inside my head
pressing to my skull

telling me that this design
is flawed from some ancient
ancestor

who was smaller
just like me
but smarter
and made mistakes much
bigger

Missing Missives.

poetry

It’s been a month
since the boys back home stopped
writing.

A god damned shame,
since all those boys back home
were god damned good at
writing

Maybe the post is slow this season,
for some reason.
Maybe nobody’s home this season,
for some reason.
Maybe, though
(just maybe, though),
the boys back home just
got sick of
writing.

A god damn shame,
since all those boys back home
were god damned good at
writing

.

Let’s Spend Another Night Wondering.

poetry

We’ve contemplated many
variations on the same theme
theame
theeem
theim
thematic expressions, perhaps by
eye contact, or skin brushing on
skin passing just near enough to
feel each-other’s skin

The passing comments, too, help
when contemplating jointly. Could
we communicate? do we communi
cate? Have we communicate(d)?
Should we, all things considered (
and all things have been), commu
nicate? Does all this broken spee
ch make things hard to follow fo
r you? I know it does for m
e.

wild things

poetry

this should
be absurd
these beasts composed
of giant, furry costumes
and CGI visage
but I’m crying
numerous times
since my proclivity
is sensitivity
to beauty and sadness

and i reclaim
my desire to
do the same
only with words
will i pierce
your hearts
and open your eyes
to light
until your tears of
sadness and tears of
joy mingle
to become indistinguishable
and inextinguishable

and you’ll look up
from the page
bewildered,
baptized.

the mountains to come

poetry

we could live in fields of green
if we believed this was all there was
we could run in forests, climb hills
take in mountains
if this was all there was
better air could be breathed and
lives would matter so much less we
would enjoy them differently
if this is all there was

but if we believe there’s something more
life might look strange to those
if they believe this is all there is

qvc

poetry

DO YOU REMEMBER THE RIDE TO CRAIGS CRUISERS
DSC00542
WHEN IT WAS REALLY SUNNY
AND WE WERE PLAYING THE RADIO LOUD
AND WE HAD ALL OF THOSE TRAMADOL
THAT YOUR GRANDMOTHER LEFT YOUR MOTHER?
WASN’T THE SUN LIKE GOD AND
THE CLOUDS LIKE ANGELS AND
THE BLUE SKY LIKE HEAVEN?
bluesky
REMEMBER GETTING HIGH RIGHT BEFORE
WALKING INTO YOUR PARENT’S HOUSE?
BECAUSE SOMETIMES BAD IDEAS CAN
BE GOOD ONES, TOO.
DO YOU KNOW THAT YOU HAUNT
ME?
OR I HAUNT ME?
OR SOMETHING LIKE THAT?
YOU KNOW, IN REGARDS TO THESE THINGS
BEING MEMORIES?
THE PAST FUCKING HAUNTS ME,
I GUESS.
AND SONGS LIKE “SHOULD HAVE TAKEN
ACID WITH YOU” BY NEON INDIAN
MAKE ME WANT TO JUMP OFF OF
MY SECOND STORY BALCONY TO MAKE
A POINT TO MYSELF,
OR TO BE HONEST TO MYSELF.
BECAUSE THINKING OF YOU MAKES
ME
DO
THINGS
LIKETHAT.

Composition

poetry

Where’s the music to these lyrics?
Where’s the rhythm to the drumming of my hands on the desk?
Where’s the beat in the neck-breaking of my head-banging?
Where’s the chord to the strumming of my air guitar?
Where’s the tune whistling from my lips?
Where’s the snap between my fingers?
Where’s the melody to this song?
Where’s the tapping to my feet?
Where’s the music to these lyrics?
They’re all in my head.
It’s all in my head.