Roadside Stands

poetry

Summer sun and such searing
all the pavement beneath my feet
and the tops of my feet additionally
and all I smell is smoke and fire
and charcoal briquettes
and ooh, that smells oh so good
and yeah, I think I’ll have one
of those, but what you want to
charge is
un
be
leave
a
bull

This is the flavor of disdain and despair and other terrible things (that probably also start with the letter ‘D’)

poetry

I can taste the
apple juice
mixing with the sulfur
in the back of my throat
and it’s sweet enough,
I’m thinking,
for most of us to swallow down

But I’ve traveled
very recently.
I headed North, or
North-West, for those
that crave the particulars,
and tried to come to
settle in a place that’s
at least a bit more
sulfur-free

but alas,
the sulfur
is always free,
and that’s probably
the problem
to start with

a couple more days (to the tune of plastic birds)

poetry

i shouldn’t expect you to be like me
my pretty plastic bird
and when i took you to the fare
you said that life’s not fair

when i go home at night
and i think about it
i know i only want the truth
and that’s all i want from you

and when i realize
looking into your eyes
that they are plastic beads
i wish that you could see

i guess that i’m a mess
and i get left like that
cuz you can’t tell
i wish you’d go to hell

i lose my appetite
i’d rather be lonely
cuz it’s not fucking cool
being such a fool.

Coffee

poetry

Not that there is an alternative, even though there are many
Who’s bittersweetness strikes faster, stays longer;
Not that I need to stay up for him, as hours drip
Into fat puddles of late night tv and limbs that shift
Like a seabed under their blankets. His charm isn’t
Worth sacrificing the house-wine for, initially.
If I help him along a bit, maybe?
Drop a sugar-cube, add some cream or milk.
Give the Atlantic back its icebergs. Yet not that
He’d notice: Curse the lactose intolerant!

There comes a time, when everything warm in
This world, gets lost in the Arctic. There comes a
Time, when the cat by the fire duly notes its place.
And despite knowing this, I drink a little faster;
And I, having tasted what I have tasted
With eyes that have known to stay open,
To the richest and the boldest, I am still a tourist
To be seen in coffee-shops by a clearer lens.
While I am this slow sipper in this
Place of eternal happy-hour: every new mouthful
Is a new land to see.
Kraus! Oh Schnitzler and Toberg;
Come on, oh come home with me.

I tried to get ahold of you. Your phone has been disconnected. Do you have another line?

poetry

I am reaching
I have not touched
stretching fingers
only aiming for the tip
but now my thumb is in your mouth
and what the fuck is up with that?
and I can feel you pulsing
breathing
everything an open
book-on-tape, and now
the little magnetic ribbon
is spooling, spurred on by the
fast-forward button on my
ancient cassette deck.

Show me all your glories
and I’ll pick them apart by way
of not giving a shit.

Though it probably means I love you.

rabbit brain for dinner

poetry

tonight
i gathered with what are soon to be old friends
(i’m moving in 10 days you know) and we sang
and sang something like karaoke
for four hours till our voices grew horse
then settled for dinner.

“rabbits head”
we picked because hey.
what the hell are old friends for if not
a good rabbits head once in a while.

i suckled at the brain. it tasted like you’d think
(spongy, salty, spicy, awkwardly disgusting and not
just in principle) and i knew my vegetarian
friend there with us
would appreciate and remember this as our last
meal together

when i lived here.
ate this. sang that. played with you and wished you

farewell.

unnoticed

poetry

drowning is the loneliest as
even sound can’t get to you

water floods your body

thoughts flood your mind

thoughts of your friend’s faces
rapt in moments of sheer ecstasy

but not saving you
like the particles moving
a r o u n d your outstretched arms

and when you first go down
you know
and your heart
it knows

and it matches the bpm of
all of the saddest songs

a slow shuffle for the
last dance

you’re a wallflower at
this slow dance
but the song never resolves
and you’re last thoughts
are cliche

like that song candle in
the wind, or whatever

you feel like one of those
candles, and you feel the
flicker and understand it
like you couldn’t before

when the understanding comes…
well
you know what happens then,
even now you do

like when you had nothing to
do so you just fell asleep.

snakes with certificates, snakes with names

poetry

everywhere i look i see snakes
and i just
can’t
stop
talking
about it

how could one, when all one
has to see is snakes? snakes
by the dozens, hissing and
slithering in all different
colors and sizes.

i try and kill them, these

horrid

snakes

but

there are just too many,
and they wont even kill me,
they just hiss

and slither

and i sit in a big wide green
beautiful field with all of
the beauty of space covered
in fucking snakes and cry.

I am glad I don’t know any of you, if I did I’d have to write decent coherent possibly good stuff

poetry

You leave me alone in your apartment, 
 I feel dented, swindled, and hanged up like the abstract painting on your wall.  
 I wrap your white bed sheet around my neck , it holds better than your words… when you pretend to see Me as larger than life; you’re so snug ego-boosting me, and like an ailing puppy I need you. 
I fidget from wall to wall wearing your leather shoes and your tshirt, big enough to get lost in and forget that I am who I hate the most… 

Mediocrity

poetry

I’m afraid of mediocrity
To settle for what’s less
I give up on potential greatness
Instead of striving for the best
Thoughts weigh in me with unrest
Believing I should strive for better
Rather than just striving for this jest
To rise above, discover true success?
But with contempt I’m told
I shouldn’t make a mess
“Don’t be such a wrench in the works.”
And so, with a sigh, I digress

Listing

poetry

I feel as though I’m listing
I’m sure I must seem that way
out of sorts and all
paper hat on my head
nothing written on my hands
no company to remember me
but here I am, listing
and I’ll list my way back out to sea

emerald

poetry

i have a cat and home and
she tickles my heart

(i don’t have a whining
air conditioner in my head)

i just got my rations and
i can smile through the
smog and my family
keeps me grounded
as they will last forever.
my dad teaches me how
to
hunt the hunt in any
season
and he guts it all for me
and he does all the
driving
and one day i’ll get
married, as a good
man is hard to find;
one to bring into your
family, as they will
last forever.

my name’s emerald,
and my smile out-shines
this taco bell™.