interview fraud

poetry

you expect to know me
but only spend thirty minutes
prodding and poking
with pointed questions
that don’t really tell you anything
about me or anyone,
other than that i know
(or perhaps not)
what you want to hear
and will gladly tell it to you
no matter what i really think
because i’ll do just about anything
for 40 grand a year and benefits.

Green Light

poetry

Green light
And I can’t move,
Asphyxiated by fear
I’m hardly breathing.
The glint of the street light
Reflects off a basement window.
The signs say, One Way
And Do Not Enter.
Red light,
Breathe and let go.
The headlights shine into hazy dusk.
Turn signals flashing
I’m not going,
Green light

jail house blues

poetry

in jail they slip your
food under the door
and the gaurds only
walk around as many times
as they absolutely have to
and
i lie on the floor,
points of pressure failing
to pad the solid concrete
that is my bed.
keith has a wife,
he’s lying next to me
because he beat in
her ex’s door because
he was keeping her kids
and they called “breaking
and
entering”;
tony is from detroit and
got caught driving without
a license and all of his
people left him here,
he tells me about his
cars
and
females
and
houses
and how they caught him slipping
caught him slipping and
he shouldn’t even be stayin’
here for no three hunnid dollas

god,
aint this some bullshit?
this phone only calls who it
wishes,
this cell sits harder than
all of humanity…
lets no light in
lets no one leave,
lets no statements
be made of it or on it
except for “help me!!!”
which tony wrote on his
concrete bed with the pen
that i stole from the clerk
that we also made playing cards
out of with our pieces of
papers given to us by the
man;
these papers containing important
information about the number
of dollars we are to give
to the man for our offenses
against public safety.

Now You Fucked Up

poetry

Despise
is such a strong word
yet I like it in this instance
no, I love it in this instance
as you’ve created for yourself
an enemy, and I insist
that if you make one more mistake
you’ll make a meeting with my fists

so please be wary
as I despise you
very much

slow summer work days

poetry

if i sit here another minute,
i very well might explode,
littering the surrounding computers
with little bits and pieces
of what was once me:
brain matter, bones,
flesh and blood,
and of course fecal matter,
coating the ground
and hopefully making it to the ceiling,
that i might rain down my essence
on friend and foe alike,
bestowing a final blessing
on all these other working stiffs.

Perfectionism

poetry

there’s something simply perfect
about the cold kiss of cut blades of grass
on bare but caloused feet
around a country fire ring
in the middle of the night

How it cuts,
but doesn’t cut you;
how it chills you just enough
so you remember just exactly
how alive you felt that morning
when the sun rose up above your bed
and ice cold water sprayed down
like a demon from the shower-head
incititing,
nay,
demanding,
that you rise.

You didn’t like it then,
and you’re not quite fond right now,
but you must admit,
the main effect was
perfect.

a poem about a better poem on the same subject

poetry

in the eleventh grade my spanish
teacher made us read a poem by
pablo neruda about his dead
dog and i could not have cared
less but now i find myself contemplating my
furry companion’s inevitable
end sure that when that day
arrives i’ll seek solace in mr. neruda’s
perfect verse:

Some day I’ll join him right there,
but now he’s gone with his shaggy coat,
his bad manners and his cold nose,
and I, the materialist, who never believed
in any promised heaven in the sky
for any human being,
I believe in a heaven I’ll never enter.
Yes, I believe in a heaven for all dogdom
where my dog waits for my arrival
waving his fan-like tail in friendship.

and i’ll probably stay home for days.

old songs and old friends

poetry

sitting for hours
on hard chipotle benches,
barely noticed in the reminiscence
of times past,
of times to come,
of everything in between,
enjoying the moment
although we all know
that it won’t last,
that it will fade away
like a song from the past
that slowly disappears
and then one day is found
on a shuffled ipod
and immediately suspends time
for four minutes or so,
taking everything back
to the idealized past,
in which everything we shared
is remembered fondly,
improving on the reality,
which was good already.

Star-Specked

poetry

Sultry, almost plentiful
the star-specked sky sits,
becoming,
only partly blurred from the
toxic city lights beneath it

We lay on the concrete
pretending we know which
sets of stars have names
and which stars are just
stars

The air moves slowly over us,
cool for one,
cold for another,
and thin, webbed clouds cover,
just for a moment,
the sultry, almost-plentiful
star-specked sky

In those moments I miss you

opus

poetry

i awoke to find my hours
still at bay waiting for myself
to catch up as i ran to
lose the fear i knew awaited
should i not endure some pain to
soften the blows that followed

endurance came more out of
necessity than some personal triumph
i could no more attribute to myself
than my own salvation

light comes with the morning filled with
things so sweet, tranquil, mundane as to
hardly be poetry
but a donut cannot lie
and a burrito brings you the same joy
no matter what the flavor or the cost if its
been a year since one touched your lips

lying jetlagged on the floor i look back on
six months of answered prayer for courage
through the one thing i lack the strength and
pride is nowhere around as i held you in my
arms and you refused sleep in the way i refused to
give up hope
and you humbled me

a traveler’s treatise

poetry

i’ve seen a tiger in denver
caged and discontent–
why in God’s name must i see
one in every city in which i set foot?
will a parade of morose tigers
provide enlightenment?

all our cities
seek to be the same
practicing emulation to perfection

but when we travel
let us cannonball into
the unfamiliar

avoid highways
fill the tires of an old bike
lace up sturdy walking shoes
eat at a restaurant owned by the cook
swim in the nearest river
revel in the flora
seek out the fauna
bathe in the accents of locals
make them your friends
sleep under their roofs

then return
and–without photos–
tell me of your travels

I Wish I Could Be Entertained This Easily

poetry

Fetch!
I say
He bounds off
After a yellow tennis ball
Tail wagging
Tongue sagging
Saliva splashing
Bolting at, and on one bounce
He leaps off hind legs
Snatching the ball in air
Galloping back at full speed
He presents the soaking ball
To me as if it were a prize
Rolling it off his tongue
With elegant presentation
His head cocks
One ear bends
His mouth smiles
(At least looks like it)
Again. His face says
Throw it again.

Saving Seats

poetry

Grinding at the road, the bus jittered and swayed
Moving our bodies along with its erratic rhythm
I closed my eyes letting the dissonance overtake me

So when are we getting that studio apartment in the city
Where I’ll write the lyrics and you’ll sing the songs?

Never showed up at Broad Street, it wasn’t like you.
Save me a seat, you said, we’ll go house hunting together

My backpack, laid onto my jacket, both waited
For you to arrive, saving the vacant seat next to me

It was finally when your sister called, hysteria in every word
That I knew your absence would never be filled

But the bus still rattled, and thumped through traffic
Changing direction with potholes and pebbles
As I sat, spinning between silence and chaos

Re-vamped

poetry

i wish that i were a vampire
but of an entirely different sort;
not possessed of boyish good looks
and not one that plays by the books;
not your normal vampire douche
and definitely not from Belarus;
content merely to sleep all day
and drink a little blood along the way;
not worrying about what would happen tomorrow
because i would have known enough sorrow
from living throughout recorded history
but always as an unfathomable mystery.

in praise of introvertion

poetry

my mind is a-clatter with unmentionables,
unmentionables that ring,
unmentionables that sting,
thoughts that should not be spoken,
thoughts that would leave me broken
in the eyes of all those around
if they knew my thoughts underground
but luckily i keep my head,
and the unmentionables stay in a cozy bed
of repressed thoughts and feelings
so that no one has to go reeling.

Two Dogs

poetry

Two dogs bark
more than one dog barks
but they still both bark,
just one barks less than two.

the little one chides
the big one chastises
the little one bites
and the big one… tries to kill him

but it all works out
for the sweet bliss
(that’s made that much sweeter)
when they both stop barking

…for a second anyway