6:01

poetry

I watched that video
again
for the hundredth time
but maybe only the twenty-fifth
without you

and I don’t even know
what day it was

it was every day
at 6:01
until we memorized
each word and we
laughed whether
we fucked it up
or not

but look, man
we’re in the
prime of our lives
got to live the way we got to

gonna make us some money again
gonna fight

but not all fighters
are champions

and I don’t even know
what day it was

but I hope
it didn’t
hurt

C E O

poetry

you should be concerned
about the grapes drying up
in your orchard as the heat-
wave creeps towards your
summer home

you should be concerned
about not remembering the
science behind convection
as the particles around you
start to accelerate

and when your stupid old a/c
finally needs replacement
and your help draws their
pentions, you’ll find no-one
around to sell you new models

you’ll sit between the rows
of brittle grape vines, a beacon
of passivity, greed, and
ignorance; dry bones for
the archaelogist of 2mrw

Mexico

poetry

despite having the best time,
i find a strange ambivalence
thinking about the cost,
not to myself,
no, but to the onlookers,
the waiters and waitresses,
the bellboys and barkeeps,
the deckhands and drivers,
watching me drop in a weekend,,
casually and with unmistakeable style,
the earnings of their entire
month?
quarter?
year?
thinking about what they could do
if only they had the
luck,
chance,
fortune
of a middle-class American.