Don't force me to watch the dying deer -
her legs trapped like tar.
Let her rest on the leaves,
bleating.
Sunday, March 24, 2013
Tuesday, March 19, 2013
Meth Makes Your Teeth Fall Out
How are you supposed to feel
when you hear about a dead baby
in a duffle bag,
packed away like an over night stay?
We looked at each other with a concise disgust,
probably shook our heads
full of clean hair.
And two hours later, we got lunch at Wendy's.
Cheeseburgers and frosties.
Maybe fries.
when you hear about a dead baby
in a duffle bag,
packed away like an over night stay?
We looked at each other with a concise disgust,
probably shook our heads
full of clean hair.
And two hours later, we got lunch at Wendy's.
Cheeseburgers and frosties.
Maybe fries.
Monday, March 18, 2013
One Poem. Four Parts. (part three)
III.
Let the light do it's thing
on your face.
okay?
(I'll try not to notice)
Let the light do it's thing
on your face.
okay?
(I'll try not to notice)
Wednesday, March 13, 2013
20/31: my hands don't smell like sex
my hands don't smell like sex.
and if i put them in my mouth
i only get the subtle sweetness of holding a pen and
yesterday's left overs.
and if i put them in my mouth
i only get the subtle sweetness of holding a pen and
yesterday's left overs.
Saturday, March 9, 2013
19/31: It was Already Playing; a poem in 7 parts
I. You own a room, specifically
the room I am in.
and every word said, the floor and my anticipation.
II. The earth is new.
Can you believe it?
III. And then there are places that only belong
to you - like, my hair and that space that moves before you,
and the space that follows.
IV. I only use your first and last names.
V. :: omitted by author ::
VI. I ask.
You answer.
VII. I ask, "What's unholy?"
and here,
maybe you don't answer.
the room I am in.
and every word said, the floor and my anticipation.
II. The earth is new.
Can you believe it?
III. And then there are places that only belong
to you - like, my hair and that space that moves before you,
and the space that follows.
IV. I only use your first and last names.
V. :: omitted by author ::
VI. I ask.
You answer.
VII. I ask, "What's unholy?"
and here,
maybe you don't answer.
Monday, March 4, 2013
18/31: why the cicada sings
Tiny muscles:
constricting, releasing, vibrating
and screaming low.
Sometimes the corn is tall, the night air oppressive
and the bush-cricket
drowns under the cicada's song.
And here's what I want to say to you:
Nothing like this was planned -
the biology of it all.
constricting, releasing, vibrating
and screaming low.
Sometimes the corn is tall, the night air oppressive
and the bush-cricket
drowns under the cicada's song.
And here's what I want to say to you:
Nothing like this was planned -
the biology of it all.
17/31: on showing our baby the dead cat
Words are hard -
You said 'death' like you knew, your little tongue made noises like you understood,
but, honey baby, you didn't.
Wrapped in a ragged sheet, the cat's blood turned to rust
but not before you asked to see her.
That little head moved just a bit in the re-adjusting-
her shroud let light in one final time, and you, little baby,
cried in the yard
for days.
We say 'death' because we've learned
(or we pretend we have).
This, our legacy, will one day be yours.
You said 'death' like you knew, your little tongue made noises like you understood,
but, honey baby, you didn't.
Wrapped in a ragged sheet, the cat's blood turned to rust
but not before you asked to see her.
That little head moved just a bit in the re-adjusting-
her shroud let light in one final time, and you, little baby,
cried in the yard
for days.
We say 'death' because we've learned
(or we pretend we have).
This, our legacy, will one day be yours.
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