Ineffective, inefficient,
how useless I really am,
weak and pushed around,
I’ve had too much,
enough,
but my passiveness
does not allow me,
I do not know,
how,
to stand up,
to fight back,
to grow tall.
I’m pulled down,
by the creepers,
shaded out,
by the tall trees,
I cannot grow,
until I have some light.

And I in my dinosaur-print blanket
and you in your po-jammas
while the gentleman down the road
wanders in a fleece-lined coat

The roads are clear and so
is the sky, with that moon so
nearly blinding me it’s
a wonder I can see straight

But straight in to bed I go
and fantastically. And beautifully.
I have no cause to hate my
home.

But all these things are wonder
ous and all of them are more
than what is base and stock and
that’s a pretty great thing,
too.

And all this fresh air is
perfect.

Do you remember when
we went to see that film
those years ago
at the theater
on the nice side of town?

The tickets were more
expensive, but the seats
were really comfortable
there in Auditorium Six

and even though we got there
fifteen minutes late
(we even skipped the ad reel)
we hadn’t missed a thing

The heckling never started
’til the both of us were
comfortable and languishing
chewing popcorn loudly
feet kicked up on chairs

Remember how the rest of
the house laughed with us?
Those were simpler times,
I am apt to believe.

Now,
I think, everyone is laughing
still,
but maybe they’re
laughing at us

I still don’t think we should
stop

once while hallucinating in
the northern woods a beautiful
fairy did come to me whose
soul was twice-size and she
spoke and made me feel bad for
those like lost and confused
out in the murky-ness pissing
in the wind (thanks neil)

and i thought of you, janelle

and having not felt bad for
you yet, i still cringe watching
you play out your favorite scenes
from friends out in public
at the bar
with that nerd
on your arm
who will put his dick in you
finally, while across the
city i write this

and the thought of you was not fond

because the real test, i feel
(and never expressed to the
fairy) is when a person gets
kicked when they’re down that
they get back up and remain
honest

and i believe, janelle

that the first time you pricked
your finger on a bush, you held
it against the allmighty himself
and took up to acting
to get your dopamine
when not working for it like
everyone else

and here i sit, insulting you
in prose

because i don’t believe

in fairies.

I will not lie,
I am terrified of my surroundings,
hidden dangers lurking,
just behind the closet door,
regrets hovering just above my ceiling fan,
waiting for the next rotation,
to insert their doubts,

just last night I dreamt a very sweet dream,
it dealt with death and dying,
decay and decomposition,
my body melted away into carbon,
and I was happy to be rid of these emotions,

did we make the right choice?
by diving head first into the lake,
little did we know of the rocks just beneath the surface,
and when our hearts are pulverized by the waves,
the fishes will eat what’s left

there’s confusion in my mind,
not knowing what it wants,
to reach, to grab, to scrabble,
for just that touch,
awash,
lost,

There are days I’m startled by the other person in the room
Especially
When it’s late at night
And I’m the only one here
And I forgot to turn the heat on
Again

So in an effort to make a more hospitable environment
Today I tried
Hacking and burning the island inside myself
Because, yes
I am made of that much overgrowth and accumulated
Mess and the undertoe in my rivers
Will suck
you
down
No these rapids don’t roar
They hush

Everything

Only the water on the rocks
Is audible
And only when I am waist deep in it
It whispers to me

Listen
You cannot spend any more time hanging around your own hazes
That silhouette you picture is not here
But please do not define emptiness by its shape
Though you have holes
You are still holy

But I’ve spent too much time corking shut
My silences
So I don’t listen to the river
Even under water
Even when the world is frozen over
I reverberate in the throat just enough
To steadily hum out the truth I
Already feel pressing like actual thumbs
In my ears
I play band saws
So I don’t hear the river
In those moments when it tells me
That silence
Might not mean emptiness
We are all holy
And so holy enough
Even though I don’t want to hear that

Right now
I’d lay down
Next to any one
Who could sing over that in her sleep

Who could teach my hands
The violin curve of a swan long neck
My grasshopper music needs accompaniment

But without that kind of magic in my fingers
I just try to catch reflections as if
I might bounce them out my throat as lullabies
And float them into
The cracks in my walls
When the river gets too loud again

It is shocking
How many electric prayers I’ve spat to stop it
But pressing my tongue up against electrical sockets
Can only get me
So far
Please
I’m just looking for someone to tether myself to
I’m just looking for someone who’s weather proof. You
Need to board up my panes

Before the river
Rises over my head
Then I will not be able to avoid
Knowing
We are all holy
Even as individuals

But I don’t want to forget you yet

I take solace in
your sad-puppy dog-house
stares from across the
room.
For as much as you’ve hurt,
ruined, embarrassed me,
at least I know I’ve won.

Soon I shall be
in Europe, entwined;
away from your flu-
like misery.

i never felt i lacked something
i never felt i had need of until
this void grew so big
i never felt anything like it.
i never felt satisfaction after
searching like i know i’ll find
when i find it. i know it because
until now
i aint never felt it.

i’d stuff you with bamboo
for with you i’d take extra care
the best of taxidermists
hang your right side on the wall
(it is your best side)
and i would not settle for mere
cotton
for with you i’d take extra care
you’re my trophy, and to prove it
i’d spend a little extra and
i’d stuff you with bamboo

In desperate times we strive,
to reach for the stars,
when we know all we can do is touch the ceiling,
touch the popcorn walls,
with buttery fingers our dreams slip,
slide,
we have no grasp,
just an idea of a dream,
a dream of an idea,
idyllic imaginations,
reach, reach,
rise, rise,
these dreams are melting,
faltering,
d
r
i
p
s
y
d
r
o
p
s
y
place my cup underneath the falls,
sip from the chalice,
and open up these walls,
a toast to dreams,
here’s to the forgotten…

I took my love, and I spoke it
And I broke it into threes
To the one that was
To the one that wasn’t
To the one that will never be

The first took my heart, and broke it
The second I just let be
The third, I heard, never thought of the word
No she never thought of me

thanks for rocking and rolling with me
while i fathered children
raised them, fathered more and began
the process of adoption.
thanks for writing with me through moves
and furloughs and job changes and
countless different degrees.
thanks for poetrizing through thick and thin
and daily (or at least sometimes daily)
giving what you got the sieve.
i grew a beard, got scruffier, meaner
and generally slightly more gruff.

but you’ve stood by… a writin’
often sans-inspiration.

thanks eh.

Celestial bodies crash unyielding
in to one another
and throw sparks
,debris
,molten crust
,and everyone on either
stone or asteroid or moon or
planet, dies.

So far our stone has gone
relatively unmolested
in the grand scheme of things.
But its rash is growing.

we’ll kill ourselves
eventually.

Or Neptune will take care of it.

There is a certain feeling
when the wind picks up
for just a moment
and the thermometer reads
just so
and even though it’s dark
and cloudy you
can still see half the sky
and it is particular
but just for a moment and
there, it’s gone
again

Every muscle you own is giving
out and especially the ones
that keep your back straight and
especially the ones that stop
your neck from sagging side-wise
and if I could help you I would
but I have enough on my plate as
it is without installing supports
for your own lack of fortitude
but Lowes is running a decent sale
on mounting hardware so maybe
you should go give them a try.

There are days I’m startled by the other person in the room
Especially
When it’s late at night
And I’m the only one here
And I forgot to turn the heat on
Again

Booze burns my dry, cracked lips,

searing down through my

innards. I make like

this is relaxation- French

Brandy, lounging-

when really I am simply

bored.

 

Where are you to help decide

my next move, as I fumble and thumb

my way through the dark brambles before me-

the final remnants of

your Rabbit Hole?

 

I hopped on to your bandwagon

myself; my demise my own.

Perhaps I should have

known you’d slashed the tires, cut the brakes,

before we’d even started.

Snowflakes have always

been my favorite muse

as they float through the skies

and melt under my shoes.

Everything’s pretty

when it’s covered in white,

and in this dark winter

they bring out the light.

I can’t help but smile

when I see the snow

it reminds me of childhood,

reminds me of my home.