love

The last Day Of September

poetry

My brother was drunk tonight
when I found him out
on this town we love
and the bar he was in
was closing down
so we went to another bar

where he called a man a racist
who promptly bought our round
and he smiled the whole time
drinking Old Style
like a rascal in the dark

then he was outside
lending and lighting
and learning about a mother
who lived in Florida
far away

what are you passionate about
he asked some man
who was happy enough
to half-invent an answer
for his trouble

what are you passionate about

then that bar closed too
so we stood outside of it
and my brother said to me
you know that job I have
where I travel all the time
and make great money
and see the world

I told him I did and he said
I thought about calling someone
and getting you that job too
so you could travel
and make great money
and see the world
but I didn’t and I won’t

you’re the music
he said still drunk
you’re the music
and you got to keep doing that

and you know
I knew my brother loved me
but drunk or not
I didn’t know he loved me
quite that much

Long Distance Charges

poetry

I called you up
at 12am my time
10pm yours
on a Saturday night
in January
and you told me all your secrets
like it was nothing at all
as you cut onions on a cutting board
and danced to the music
that played in the back
real low

I was laying in a fat recliner
that was jammed against the wall
so the broken spring was less apparent
as I tried to write those secrets down
and trade you some of mine
but they all just came so fast
that my head started spinning
or at least that would be my excuse
because we’d both rather
leave the alcohol
out of this

Appreciation

poetry

Your stock has been one in a million.
Given away freely,
Now of priceless worth.
Your steady trend has been upwards,
Always forward, never back.

And there have been recessions.
There’s even been depressions.
But you’ve been resilient.
Downturns will surely come in the future,
Opportunities for you to turn up.

And here we are today,
More than a decade since inception.
You alone are my portfolio.
Un-diversified.
Exposed to risk.
Betting only on the appreciation of you.

143

poetry, writing
Won’t you be my neighbor?
Won’t you be my lover?
Won’t you be my friend?
Through thick? Through thin?
Here in the neighborhood
Or in the land of make believe.
–
Because we should tell each other,
the truth and the facts.
Because we should tell each other,
That it’s a beautiful day to be alive.
So won’t you be mine? Would you,
Be mine? Won’t you be?
–
There’s been 143 times 33
Days since we’ve married.
And 1 + 4 + 3 still equals
I like you.
I love you.
I want you.
I need you.
Just the way you are.

The Devil Never Settled

poetry

I sat for perhaps a lifetime
my hands clutching nothing
as I rocked in the perfect black

I found my feet slowly
When finally I could breathe again
and found the pool more slowly still

“Further West, I’d wager,” I whispered
as I eased in to the frigid water feet-first
and filled my lungs with all the air they’d take

In a moment I was submerged
in another I was swimming under sea and stone
It wasn’t long before I saw the sun again.

Almost Paradise

poetry

“You’ve come so far,” you whispered
as you wrapped me in warm arms
robbing all my breath from me

“You know I can’t come with you.”
I felt you say in to my chest,
my arms finally overlapping yours

“I swear you’ll see me again.”
you crackled, tightening your hold
even as you began to fade away

You took the light when you left;
With hands and knees I found the cave floor
and laid my tears there in the darkness

The Queen A Muse

poetry

I came to on a slab of hard rock
my eyes adjusting to the soft blue light
peering through a thin crack in the cave roof

Seasoked clothes clung to my skin
as I rolled my sore body to the side
working slow to stand before gazing around

You were there next to a gentle pool
there was a glow about your bedclothes
and a gentle brightness in your smile

We stood in the cool of our breathing
until you stepped forward to touch my shoulder;
I couldn’t say a word

The King A Prophet

poetry

I made tracks through the sandy beach
closing on the vast blue sea
which calmed and quieted with each step

There was only a yard between us
when the sea became stock still,
the air a perfect chill, and silent

I stopped a moment, hearing only my heart,
the quiet breaking as the sea exploded,
thundering upward in a great pillar

The watery monolith roiled as it blocked the sun
“Hello, old friend,” I whispered in its shadow;
it shuddered once, then crashed down to consume me

Gates of Paradise

poetry

I made my way through sand-set grasses
beneath the heat of the high noon sun
falling forward with each soft step

The salt-air harassed my hair and clothes
The rumble of the unstoppable growing louder
I found myself on a short dune-cliff

The sea stretched out immeasurable
rolling softly beneath a nearly cloudless sky
its vista unmarred by passing ships or seabirds

“As cold as it ever was,” I murmured
as I dropped my pack in the yellow stand
climbing down to the beach below

God was a Sailor

poetry

My body rose first the next morning
awoken in part by the rattling cold
I stood watching the sun a horizon away

The tin kettle was near the top of my kit
the black grounds in the bottom were thick
“Just a taste sometimes,” I muttered, stoking smoking coals

When I descended toward the water
it was full on oats and coffee
and with steps unsure as they were careful

By the time the sunrise had ceased
I was half-way down the mountain
with only the great blue sea in my sights

Breadth of Heaven

Uncategorized

It must have been twelve hours
Though the dark laid useless my pocket watch,
I could have counted clacks

As the car slowed beneath my flour-bag perch
I pushed the slide-door wide
leaping to beat the bulls

I rolled to and stopped in a pile
my eyes finally finding me on a mountaintop
overlooking a great wide sea

The dusk set in as the freighter set out
“Mountain’s cold as scorn,” I mumbled gathering fuel;
I found no serpents under fallen brush

Northport Angels

poetry

In the afternoon sun
I could have heard my fits of coughing
but for the freight train’s clatter

you were somewhere near the ocean
“I’m sure of it now.” I said from my knees;
My feet found ground beneath me

My pack lay heavy on my shoulders
the blood nearly reddening my cheeks
my tracks leading to the freighter-line’s

the clatter had ceased by then
and it was just a short climb inside
to the long ride up the mountains

The Devil Went West

poetry

In the autumn dark
between silence and sleep
I’d thought you could be found

I fumbled with my switchblade
When I heard the racket
Just beyond the edge of the clearing

there was a rustling then
a whisper to the din that had come before
and the viper slid up my leg as carelessly

“What did you do with her?” I asked unanswered
while the fangs found my deepest reddest vein;
I was dead by morning

the ant trap

poetry

at what point do
you know
that it is poison
that you are
eating?

you stupid bug

that smelled
your way here
as you were born
to do
looking for
something sweet
to take a little
for your
infinitesimal
self

while the lion’s share goes to your master

it was i who put that poison there,
you bastard!

for you and your kin
because it
disturbs me
to see you
i am repulsed
by the
very site
of you

you should know better
than
to be soft
and dumb

and fall for an easy trap
placed
conveniently
within your
reach

she hid him beneath her bed

poetry

if i could only write one good
poem
it would be about when we went
south
and the humidity of
the middle part
of alabama

how it did fog up
my glasses in
just seconds

it would be about how i felt like
a stowaway
the whole time i knew you
a small puppy hidden under
your bed
and when we got to golf shores
i felt the foreboding of
being set free
by your sullen parents

in this, the best of my poems
i would remember and in detail
explain the last moment we
spoke
in person
but only the beach remains
that
sunbleached afternoon
walking barefoot and
the new freckles
i would fall between

and i would end the poem
very poignantly
and much before i spent a week
at my grandmother’s
in ocala
far from home
vomiting out religiously
all the sickness i had
endured.

it wasn’t fair, no one said it was, now go toast the happy couple

poetry

the lights were
still on the music
still loud when you
ran crying into the
cold night

the sand ate up
your steps and
when you met the
sea it was so cold,
and so uninviting

what did you expect?

maybe a caring and
warm omnipotent
cloud whose womb
you would climb inside
of and wish it all away

yet the air outside
the wedding tent was cold
as was the water that
lept at your toes
as you stood backwards

let go
fall into
the ocean
wait for
the dj to
stop alltogether
and the
party to
come for
you

drift into
the icey
ocean of
your feelings
and your
ambitions and
your perfect
universe never
to be

or, don’t you have the balls?
or, walk back to the tent
let the sand eat your steps
wipe the salt water off your face
and toast the happy couple.

when i ran away, rachel robinson

poetry

if i could live
16 again
i would meet you
in the open field
with your boys
at 2 or 3 am
and knowing then
what i know now
i would close my
laptop lid
and walk miles
in the cold country
darkness and
fight you with
everything i had

even if your boys
came in, as i
had feared
and stomped me
to pulp
i would lie my
bloodied face
on the thick,
dew covered grass
of my hometown
and laugh a crazy laugh
and spit the blood
out and laugh

and if you didn’t
kill me,
i would be better
for that

maybe better, some
how
than i am today

maybe i wouldn’t shake
or worry so much
maybe i’d be a better
man.

krokodil

poetry

i first heard your name the
winter of my returning home

you were the promise of respite,
a gentle wave lapping on the shore

your words were hyperbole and
placeholders for others and
you said i didn’t have to stay
or that you could go and

some years later it is finally
the morning after
the waves are garbage trucks
the sunlight is acidic
and my arm is rotting
from the paths you traveled,
krokodil