A Quickie on Candy Corn

A Quickie on Candy Corn

Though fused of bric-a-brac,

I would die for those colors!

The Yellow-Orange-White! Forever!

Blind Tom's Blind

Blind Tom's Blind

Blind Tom's blind

and everyone can see it,

everyone one can see it

save for him.

Blind Tom thinks all men are silent,

since no one speaks when he's around.

He wouldn't hear them anyway,

his ears long rotten

by his years.

Every sound runs through

the semi-plastic parts

inside the box

inside his ear

inside his steam-powered brain,

and every chime and tune

sounds telegraphic,

dead since 1980.

Blind Tom's breath

gets funnelled through a tube,

express direct

to lungs,

and all his hands have felt for fourty years

is the head of his cane,

crackin' 'neath his touch.

Every man is blind to Tom,

since no one seems to see him,

and therefore he lives unaware,

livin' on 'n on 'n on,

in bliss,

While the rest of the world,

loses sight of him.

A Quickie on a Phone Call

A Quickie on a Phone Call

Call someone! Say they're great!

Every breath you send to them

will send them soaring, happy, free!

A Quickie on Greasy Fingers

A Quickie on Greasy Fingers

Turns my pens to slick sticks

so they slip out my fingers

scatt'ring ink on my love letters.

Wheelin'

Wheelin'

Ka flump-thump thump,

ka flump-thump thump,

'round we go on this

wheel wheel wheel

that's turn-turnin'

everyone over

everyone over all the time,

makin' half of us miserable

while behind our shoulders

strangers and friends

cata cata PULT past us,

head over heels overhead

and happy.

I don't mean to mope,

I know we all roll,

I just hope

pray

wish we could all

do everything tuurn turn turn

faster!

A Quickie on Blue Paint Pens

A Quickie on Blue Paint Pens

Blue paint pen sticks to skin,

wooden benches, newspapers,

and leaves messages for later.

Wine and Mason Jars

Wine and Mason Jars

A fluttering of fingers

and pa-rink clink glass,

my hands sluuuuur

as they pass around a mason jar of wine,

white wine,

cool wine on hot lips makes for warm nights,

sticky nights that'll cling

to the sides of your neck,

so that when you go to wipe them off

you brush some soft knuckles

that are still playing behind your ear,

some eyes that catch the light,

light that splinters

gold and white,

some blurry laughter

music

song I can't remember,

can remember every taste of wine,

every winking eye,

every pressing palm against my neck.

Exciting Day!

Exciting Day!

I'm some kind of

electrified,

excited

ignited,

and suddenly

every word you say

crackle-SNAPS

my brainstem,

calls my tension

to attention,

can't relax 'cuz I'm on fire,

your every glance

fanning those flames!

A Quickie on Fears

Time to catch up. Oi.

A Quickie on Fears

It's fine to heed your fears,

their warnings. but when Push shoves,

Peel them off! All they are: labels.

A Quickie on Nerdgasm

A Quickie on Nerdgasm

My DM's 2d12

plus all bonuses to love!

And off we go to Nerdgasm!

A Quickie on MMCR Playin' Video Games

A Quickie on MMCR Playin' Video Games

Pixie cut frames her eyes,

frozen in concentration,

too focused to catch me smiling.

A Quickie on Break Ups

A Quickie on Break Ups

No matter who began

the spat, the same two people

who started it all must end it.

Blue Cooler

I think I'm 20 behind. Shiiiiiiiiiiaaaaaaat.

Blue Cooler

Blue cooler 'neath a lampshade

take up my elbow room,

and I've got to dance

through bicycle wheels

to get to the bathroom.

Shovels and picks strung up from the ceiling

scissor through the head room

of my conference room

in my make-beleive-corporation room,

my adult clubhouse.

A Quickie on Space Cowboys

I apologize for being so late. Arabian Nights has asked a lot from me. I owe 18, including this poem. I'll tackle'm!

A Quickie on Space Cowboys

Blistering 'cross the stars,

they may outrun light itself,

but can't escape what's in their hearts.

A Quickie on 10:24

A Quickie on 10:24

10:24 PM,

too early to start ta sleep,

too late to work, too late ta care.

Let Me Have a Photograph

Let Me Have a Photograph

Kissin' kissin' kissin's

got me missin' you

missin' you

got me wishin' to

wishin' to

prayin' to God,

Oh God!

Let me see her lips

her eyyyes again,

even if their photographic,

I'll pretend the film's

her skin,

tender tenderly hold it

'twixt my fingers.

Cm'ere and look!

See her smile?

I'll fold it up right now

and slip-it-in my breast pocket,

heart pocket,

and when I need a piece of beauty

on a brown 'n gray spattered day,

I'll slip it out,

so we can both smile for a while,

'fore I slip it back.

A Quickie on this Latch Key

A Quickie on this Latch Key

This latch key 'round my neck,

which unlocks my apartment,

convieniently, unlocks my heart.

A Quickie on Stains

A Quickie on Stains

Stubborn red carpet stain,

remembers her clumsiness,

her blush the day she said, "I do."

Cycle o' Cleanliness

Cycle o' Cleanliness

Late, night, shift,

works aaall evenin'

sweepin' floors

doin' chores so the

day, time, staff,

can work aaall day

scuffin' and spillin',

droppin' breakin' and cloggin',

hoggin' aaall the clean.

A Quickie on Linoleum

A Quickie on Linoleum

Barefoot linoleum

makes for cold toes, pit-patt'ring,

teenage giggles on sneaking feet.

Filter

Filter

Pressure cooked shouts

fly out too fast

for anyone to catch,

rip-ripping past their ears.

Simmer cook yourself,

and meditate.

Filter, filter,

filter with patience

every, word, you say.

Finger Ache

Finger Ache

Cream skinned,

with a birthmark

tucked behind her ear,

with thick, hair,

thick, run your fingers through, hair,

that makes mahy fingers,

ache.

Make me want to,

tug,

just a little.

She winks.

A Quickie on a Drunk Party

A Quickie on a Drunk Party

Smoking on the back porch,

rum in hand, sticky sweet sweat

catches streetlights, makes her shimmer.

A Quickie on Time Management

A Quickie on Time Management

If I feel out of time,

reeling from appoint-pointments,

I'll step out, think about staying.

The Demon of Peachtree City (Part 3)

Finally!

The Demon of Peachtree City

Part III: Hell Risin'

Devil blows up

Devil blows up

Devil EXPLOOOOODES!

Fai-ah leapt from the porch

and bit at my neck,

tore a sliver of skin

off my chin

threatened death 'n damnation

blind to my sins

so I dove for the pond

barely two feet deep

and squeezed for the bottom

as HELL took to its feet,

and the Devil ex

PLODES PLODES PLODES!

The Devil made a quick track

full tack

leapin' through lava

'n the crust o' the Earth,

climbed to his feet

summoned his throne,

burnt black and hellishly smooth...

he seated himself

on Annabelle's cinders

and I ran for my life

ran ran raaan for my life,

and I heard the devil cackle,

and I heard the devil cackle,

and I heard the devil cackle.

A Quickie on My Weekly Schedule

A Quickie on My Weekly Schedule

Woke up dreamin' dragons!

Fell in love five hundred times!

I work for love for love of work.

A Quickie on Seeing MMCR-Y

A Quickie on Seeing MMCR-Y

All the miles in the world

can be erased by sweet teas,

sweet smiles, and three dollar cupcakes.

A Quickie on Want

A Quickie on Want

Grab her jaw and kiss her,

hard. You almost want to bite,

Wanting for her too deep, burning.

Pink Kimono Drunk

Pink Kimono Drunk

Wearin' a pink,

ki, mo, no

'cuz she's a

rock, 'n, roll,

gurl,

hips poppin' as she walks

teeth flashin' as she talks

she's a drunk ass beast

pawin' at the sidewalk

and she keeps

fall, lin' fall, lin' fall, lin'

fall, lin', down...

Black pavement sharp

as, ray, zers

bloodies her

knees, to, knots,

of bone,

A victim to the scene

A forgotten prom queen

ten years past her prime

wishin' she was eighteen

and she keeps

fall, lin' fall, lin' fall, lin'

fall, lin', down...

Finally she

locks, her, door

instantly drops,

to, the, floor,

and as she passes out

she'll forget all about

every teenage hope

that she ever cared about,

'cuz she keeps

fall, lin' fall, lin' fall, lin'

fall, lin,

down.

Starfish Earring Poem

1! Finally!

Starfish Earring Poem

Starfish earring

tick,

kuls,

tickles brushes

it's five tips

just below her ear,

five little kisses

peck pecking

'cross her neck,

a light nibbling, radiating off her collarbone

and flowing down her skin,

her chest,

and a quick quiver 'cross her heart

sends those five kiss kiss kisses

pul,

sing,

through her wrists,

and you can feel them

tick,

kul,

tickle 'gainst your wrists,

even as her thighs rest against your own.

On My Volume

2!

On My Volume

So I scream a bit.

'Tis true.

I holler,

holla ho!

I breathe from my base

from the soles of my feet.

My words rumble through my thigh bones,

rummmble...

Don't crumple when I roar,

'Cuz I boom with joy.

Transubstantiation

3!

Transubstantiation

Flesh bread! And Wine blood!

They're semi-precious foodstuffs.

Don't drop a droplet.

A Quickie on Corner Drugstores

4!

A Quickie on Corner Drugstores

Corner drugstore, Georgia,

Sells ice cream out on the porch,

But with no air, Everything melts.

You're Amanda!

5!

You're Amanda!

I read the Glass Menagerie

and thought you were Amanda,

pandering to the past,

praying to God

to send you

some-anyone

to come a-calling,

take your hand and fly away with you.

While you wait,

you're starting to get dusty.

What I Dun' Did

6!

What I Dun' Did

I blistered my fingers

writin'

writin' you poems,

I calloused my palms

holdin'

holdin' your hands.

I toughened my heart

tryin'

tryin' to love you,

but now you are

leavin,

Leavin' me a hard man.

A Quickie on Summer

7!

A Quickie on Summer

Summer bends o'er backwards

trying to keep her heat on,

but Autumn's calm, cools September.

Bedtime, Aphrodite

8!

Bedtime, Aphrodite

Aphrodite's in her bedroom,

eight years old and sulking,

curling her toes into the carpet

'til they hurt,

sighing out her nose.

Seems to her

that All Olympus is alive tonight,

the Gods explode with laughter

outside her door,

while she can feel the tears,

stinging in her eyes.

Then there's a quiet knock

and someone asks if she'll come out.

She knows the voice

but cracks the door to see:

Eyes filled with ecstasy,

backed by

chaotic laughs of mirth.

"Promise we'll have fun?"

she asks.

"With me?

Forever and ever."

and then a strong and slender finger

pokes below the door,

a pinky guarantee.

Aphrodite trusts it,

takes it in her tiny hand.

He flips open the door

and she leaps into his arms,

wrapped up in some kind of joy.

Yesterdays Beatin' Up

9!

Yesterdays Beatin' Up

Yesterdays

keep beatin' up today,

keepin'me from tomorrow.

Throwin' Words

10 down, and I've got 10 to add. Go!

Throwin' Words

Stop and think about the words you write.

Whether or not

they kiss,

whether or not

they bite,

whether or not, they rot

the moment you pen them to paper,

or does the ink

stick to those pages for ages,

for years and years to come,

to hide in the margins

of yardsales in Florida

carved into sidewalks glowing in

midnight Georgia streetlights,

or Alabama trees

tucked beside interstate cement,

walls,

part of the landscape.

When you throw your words,

make sure the right ones stick.

Vulva

Vulva

Made.

You.

Look.

Busy

School. Please get out of the way of poems. I'm down 6, time to come back.

Busy

All this rush rush rushin's

got me cryin'

denyin' myself breath

denyin' myself love

denyin' myself myself.

Racing forward 'til I blur,

'n all you feel from me's a brush of air,

something that you KNOW, is there,

but only, if it's moving.

Teacher

An addition to the haiku series!

Old Man Teacher

Old man Teacher smiles,

kisses tips of wrinkled hands,

and waves us good-bye.

A Quickie on Affection

A Quickie on Affection

The note in the margin,

stained and sweaty from cent'ries,

reads: "Your freckles are my fav'rite."

A Cheesy Love Poem About being Dumb and in Love

A Cheesy Love Poem about being Dumb and in Love

Baby I'm not meant for dancin',

Sports and me don't get along,

But though my mouth ain't good for singin,

It's good for kissin' all night long.

...

Mathematics mystify me,

science, bio, all the rest,

the subjects pale inside my mind,

'cuz I know lovin' is the best.

...

I never claimed that I was bright,

and I can barely write a letter,

All I know's that lovin' you,

makes every moment better.

A Night for Cruising

Caught up tonight.

A Night for Cruising

Standiiiiing.

All, alooooone,

on the main deck.

With, the mooooon.

And missssst.

Sails,

billowing back behind me,

tug, at the ship.

Other nights,

we race,

but for now,

the sea is prime.

For cruising.

I Met a Girl in a Gaming Forum

For everyone who gets this poem:

I Met a Girl in a Gaming Forum

I met a girl in a gaming forum,

a real-life-actual girl

in a gaming-gaming forum,

the one where I won

the Pokemon tourney.

She was draped,

in a mythril Font,

Times New Roman,

classy but bold,

and all that she offered

for a picture

was a striking visage,

of Liv Tyler,

God's gift to elves.

She was talking: Zeeeeeldaaaaa.

Her vocab was solid,

she knew a Wind Fish from a zora,

and she could recite

every yellow button

of every sage's song.

I knew I'd found a winner

when I asked for her name:

"Margaret, or Margary,

but I go by Majora."

A Quickie on the Real Meaning of Hand Holding

For Lovers:

A Quickie on the Real Meaning of Hand Holding

If I reach for your hand,

know all I hope you'll give me,

is the pulse beneath your palm.

My Parking Situation

For Allie:

My Parking Situation

My neighbors,

h-are h-in,

my parking spot,

I see them I SEEEEE them,

paaaaarkiiiiing.

And they get out, and leave, their car,

fooor hooooours,

for hours their car is there

there just sitting there

and blocking my view...

of something I don't know what

but I WOULD if their CAR

wasn't there!

...

Breathe...

I'll just have to move it...

Dooooown,

towards, the pool parking lot.

Shame I don't have the keys.

All I've got, is this brick.

A Quickie on Impressions

A Quickie on Impressions

Don't let the spider webs

covering my window,

keep you, from coming in my door.

Speculating

Speculating

Speculatin',

speculate perusin',

touching touching at

the edges of things,

little porcelain kah-nick kah-nacks

and

pieces of pieces of string poking out of

the edges of things,

little mystery puzzle pieces

all piled up up up

and spilling dooown,

aaall over the floor

as we tiptoe we tiptoe

around the edges of things.

Sometimes,

we'll even go so faaar,

so far,

to reach in the pile

and root around for a while,

'til we pull out from the center

a pair of crystal earrings

that match your handbag.

Priceless.

Casting

First week of school has thrown me off! Curses! 1 of 6:

Casting

Line up by the table,

get, staaaaared down,

hopefully by smiling faces.

I'll smile either or!

I've been there before,

hoping for that happy glance

that tells me

YES!

We, LIKE you!

But they always, always like you,

believe it or not.

The Demon of Peachtree City (Part 2)

Sorry I missed a few days. I was sick due to what could be called mass consumption. After this poem, I owe three more. I'm good for it.

The Demon of Peachtree City

Part II (The Devil Woos Annabelle Lee)

In the bed, room,

down the hall, way,

in the house, of,

Annabelle Lee,

was a poor, girl,

all, miserable,

she was pray, ing,

down on her knees.

...

Blither blathering,

scitter scattering

her prayers to the Fates,

tryin' to reach God

but Devil got, in, the way!

...

Devil said,

Oooh, Annabeeelle Lee,

Why don't you send, your prayers, to me?

My passion is fired

to fill your desires,

Send your devilish prayers, to me!

...

Annabelle Lee

screamed, but the sound

died on her lips,

quiv'ring, she was,

For she hated

Old Tom Devil,

like every, good,

Southern girl, does.

...

But Devil was fine

and he caught her eye,

Devil tickled out her smile,

and with her sweet grin

she said, "Devil please stay a while!"

...

Devil said,

Oooh, Annabeeelle Lee,

Why don't you send, your prayers, to me?

I've been caught by your charms

and I'll do you no harm,

so send your devilish prayers, to me!

...

Thus Annabelle Lee,

was caught,

by the Devil.

An innocent girl,

he saved,

from her troubles.

He kissed her forehead,

and he sent her to bed,

he placed the demon, in, her stead,

oooh,

he sent the demon, in, to her head.

...

Devil said,

Oooh, Annabeeelle Lee,

Now that you've sent, your prayers, to me,

Your heart will go blazin',

my Hell you'll be raisin'!

'Cuz now you, belooong, to me!

Oooh,

Now you, belooong, to me!

The Demon of Peach Tree City (Part 1)

The Demon of Peachtree City

Part I

The air was boilin' over,

September 19th,

those harsh kisses of heat

a gift from last summer.

Some kind of some kind of

heat wave it was,

burnt the skin of your back

when you bent to tie your shoes.

And all of Georgia was laid out on the porch,

napping,

trying to beat the heat back to Hell...

But Hell had other plans that day.

...

Peachtree City baked in the sun.

The denizens dozed and the citizens slept,

and so did I.

True, I'm a Columbus boy,

but there was a girl

and there's always a girl,

wherever I go,

but this one was good,

this one was right right where I wanted to be.

But I wronged her.

See,

there's ALWAYS a girl,

where-EV-er I go,

but she wouldn't hear it

and had let me out to fry on the porch,

which I did,

which was good,

'cuz when Hell broke loose in Peachtree City,

it crept out of her bedroom.

A Short and Sappy Love Poem

A Short and Sappy Love Poem

You smell like cotton,

scented candles,

and all the air about you

warms,

embraces.

You hold my hand,

but I wanna be the one

who's holding you.

Environmental Design

Environmental Design

Magnolia pressed to brick,

roots scrape scrapin' at mortar,

tryin' to squeeeze out all the life they can.

License Plates

License Plates

Plate pressin, wedged up

against each other's shoulders

and grimy, chained feet.

Smile in a Black and White Photograph

Smile in a Black and White Photograph

Smile in black and white.
Amid a mass of fam'ly
portraits, you stand out.

Water Fountain

Water Fountain

A water fountain

gurgles, kisses the hot air,

hissing full of heat.

Wine Stains

Tonight I've got five poems and then I'm caught up! Three of them are MMCR-Y inspired haikus, yes, but I would much rather spend all day working on one than trying to write eleven all at once.

Wine Stains

My wine is leavin' stains

leavin' leavin' stains on the bar,

purple puddles on the stainless steel.

Some kind of fruit,

a grape,

bursts in my mouth,

sends me staring off after...

everything.

The Demon of Peachtree City (Prologue)

I'm closin' in!

The Demon of Peachtree City

Prologue

Neon lights flash flashin'

as I go drivin' past the town,

on my way to duel

The Terrible Acid Breathed Venom Skinned Demon of Peachtree City!

Blaring Billy Joel out my Toyota pickup,

I'm howling down

the seared Atlanta Highway,

316,

barely an hour away.

The pines are bare.

Their bark is scarred.

The sky's a rumbling black,

and the scent of burning flesh lingers in the air.

Gas tank's full,

and there's no turnin' back.

Our three fates hurtle together:

The beast's,

my own,

and yours,

my stowaway.

What has led led led us together,

even I can't say,

but I'll bear you on.

Now shut up and hold my axe,

and listen whilst I reminisce...

Peach Ice

Peach Ice

She's got a peach Italian ice,

let's it drip from her fingertips,

and patter 'gainst my palms.

Stupid Uterus

Stupid Uterus

Stupid Uterus!

The only thing you're good for

is what I DON'T want!

LAWLZ

These next two are again haikus from the MMCR(-Y). What, you don't think haikus are REAL poetry? Go tell that to centuries of Japanese tradition, punks.

LAWLZ

LAWLZ! Roflcopter,

OMG, did u c tht?!

jeremy fell DWN!

Irony in the Produce Aisle

I'm catchin' up!

Irony in the Produce Aisle

One: Plastic case of strawberries,

on a bed of blueberries,

Mother Nature pressure sealed,

protected 'til she rots.

Fox News

Fox News

This Fox News Alert

brought to you by Terrorists:

You all let them win.

Nuclear Bomb Attacks

Nuclear Bomb Attacks

Get under your desks!

Pray to your god! Kiss your ass

bye, Motherfucker!

"Thank You"

"Thank You"

These two simple words

just might save the world one day.

Remember: "Thank you."

Amnesia

These next four are the result of a Haiku game played with the infamous MMCR(-Y). You give each other a topic and write. The title's are the subjects that she gave me.

Amnesia

I'm walkin' to the...

Did I leave the oven on?

Where was I? Ummmmmmmmm....wha?

A Short Blurb on Flying

A Short Blurb on Flying

Crispin me crispin me

airstrip,

Burn off my excess and lighten me

up.

Loosen my limbs,

scrape of my sins,

send me airborne

past Delta,

and Airtran,

and angels, angels, angels,

in flight.

A Girl in Moscow

Gonna catch up this week, gonna catch catch catch up!

A Girl in Moscow

I had a girl in Moscow,

she was a silver thing,

a sweeter thing there never was!

...

And golden curls, they graced her,

they fought against the snow

to shine shine shine!

...

Why did I leave my girl in Moscow?

Why did I leave her anyhow?

Why did I leave my girl in Moscow?

...

How she would sing of Russia,

And I could make her blush

with yarns of Georgian afternoons.

...

Behind the window pane,

we'd hide and wait out night.

The dawns would always come t0o soon!

...

Why did I leave my girl in Moscow?

Why did I leave her anyhow?

Why did I leave my girl in Moscow?

...

We stole each other's hearts

and dangled them to play

at being thieves and laughed out loud.

...

She boasted that she knew the city best, said she

could show me all the twists and turns...

of the town.

...

Why did I leave my girl in Moscow?

Why did I leave her anyhow?

Why did I leave my girl in Moscow?

...

But I went home to study books,

and she stayed on to do the same.

Now I'm aged and wise and rich,

and all I want is golden Russian curls.

...

Why did I leave my girl in Moscow?

Why did I leave my girl in Moscow?

Why did I leave my girl in Moscow?

Sun and Wine

By my count, I owe 6 poems. Here's one today to keep the ole gell runnin'! I'll close the gap! Let it be known that Jake Young always pays his debts! In good time!

Sun and Wine

In the flicker of candlelight

wait for us a pretty sight,

a lakehouse home,

graced with kisses of

sun, wine, and morning mists

flowing in off the skin of the water.

Laid beneath the pine trees,

a view, a view, a marvelous view for two

upon a weathered crisscross of roots,

smoothed by countless lovers

who cooed below the green needles,

green needle-needlin' the palms of our hands,

our backs,

between our vertebrae,

make us catch our breath

as we twist with the trees.

Manager Birch

Manager Birch

Birch is comin',

fiiingernails strummin'

on his clipboard,

clip. Clipboard.

Eyes,

pryin' 'n pullin' 'n bendin' back

everyone's pages and reading our margins

and note note noting

all our stray marks.

He's a clerk who can't stop counting,

cal-cu-lating mistakes,

mon-i-to-ring schedules.

But while he breaks

our coffee breaks in half,

he keeps the business goin',

keeps it flowin',

keeps the whole place hummin',

alive.

Birch is comin',

fiiingernails strummin',

but catch his eye,

and you might see it wink.

Canadian Courtyard

Okay, got a lot of catching up to do:

Canadian Courtyard

I'm leaning out over a Canadian courtyard,

just a little lonely.

Bob Dylan took the train for Toronto,

Stanley Kubrick's flown to Rio,

and all the movie stars

flagged down vans and roared away

in flurries of maple leaves.

Somebody!

Get me a Caesar!

Standard Motivational Poem #1

Standard Motivational Poem #1

Fling me from rooftops

and send me gliding dooown, gliding dooown,

gliding dooown to the street lights and caars, caars, caars.

Let's run with the semis

Let's gallop with greyhounds,

Let's collide with our atoms and divide.

Throw forward, push forward,

claw yourself, out of the,

muck, the mire,

the sleep creeping into your eyes,

and flyyy, flyyy, flyyy,

and fly.

Staying still's for the dead.

Get up and go.

Eden

Eden

Fig leaf covered maidens

coo and weave between the branches,

arms curled and pulling,

pulling like sirens under the venomous eaves

of Eden.

eden, Eden, eden,

oh beautiful death, how you conquer me,

run your fingers through my hair

and kiss my skin with ivy,

thorn my sides,

but kill the pain,

pleasure me with world delights

and coil tightly 'round my ankles,

make me fall in love

with standing still.

eden, Eden, eden,

lets me do everything...

But live.

Beneath Ambassador Bridge

Beneath Ambassador Bridge

Underneath the Ambassador Bridge

roars a loafing triceratops,

sculpted out of gravel, driftwood and seagull shit,

built up over centuries,

by a woman,

sculpted out of gravel, driftwood and seagull shit,

built up over centuries.

Stroll Windsor

This conference is flippin' amazing, and it's been taking up quite some time. I'm three down, so tonight I'm posting two to catch up a little.

Stroll Windsor

Let's stroll down Windsor streets

and kiss the air we breathe

with breaths of mint and sweet water.

Zigzag through clover and pinetrees,

REAL pinetrees,

REAL, CHRISTMAS short-needled pines

that flavor the winds rolling off the river.

Here they summon winter to the palm of their hands

and hurl it 'cross the bridge

to Detroit,

a seasonal snowball fight

that everyone wins.

The sun lasts 'til midnight,

and the midnights are dreams.

Now Departing from the Atlanta Airport

Forgive me for the missed day. I'm attending a Michael Chekhov conference in Ontario and the travelling has set me off schedule.

Now Departing from the Atlanta Airport

Atmospheres electrify in airports,

door to door

'n gate to gate,

people feeling

nervous feeling

permeates your check-in,

billing bags and tags on everything you own.

SECURITY se-CUR-ity,

unzip

put down

relax

please sir

step through

and ERH, ERH, ERH, ERH,

step back

and check

your pockets please

unzip

put down

relax

please sir step through

and ERH, ERH, ERH, ERH.

...

Step back

recheck recheck recheck

unzip

put down

relax

relax reLAX relax

please sir

step through

and we'll be done.

...

Okay now

SIR, you have randomly been selected for a routine

ERH, ERH, ERH, ERH,

please step to the side.

Dash to the train and

WHOOOSH,

down a cement tunnel,

carved out in cubes ages ago,

a square tunnel for no slowpokes

'cuz you SHOOT straight down to the gates.

Wait.

Now, with the last few hundreds of men and women,

of babies babies babies and children.

Leisurely push against the flow

of millionaires and soldiers,

broken toothed janitors

and wave upon wave of red-shirted Spain spanish schoolgirls

going to Disney World.

Find your gate,

find your plane,

find your seat.

Buckle up,

fly away.

Bummin'

Bummin'

I go to the bank,
but they don't gimme no money,
tell me I'm broke
but I knew that
'cuz I'm back here again!
Now you folks know well
I don't know money that well,
Flingin' it outta my wallet
first moment I can.
We never get close,
we never get personal,
never get used to that paper friendly feeling,
those presidential pals in my pocket.
I'm friend bummin' around
each side of the town,
men treatin' me
'n,
kids beatin' me
down to the pavement,
break all my teeth.
When I hold out my palms,
I'm not askin' for alms,
I'm just reachin' for folded paper faces
to keep me company,
if only for a rest.

Thought Bubble from a Local Housewife

Thought Bubble from a Local Housewife

Oh she's pretty pretty pretty

prettierrr than me,

so prettier than

I cannot help

how my face lines skew 'n contort

in the sunlight,

how my beauty mark

turns blue in the rain!

I'm frumpy, I'm lumpy,

I'm in love with your image,

can you lend it a spell?

I know I'm not the pretty gal in town,

but just a touch touch touch

of your silk kissed shoulders

might just teach teach teach me

how to feel.

The Bombing of the Burbage Public Library (Part 3)

The Bombing of the Burbage Public Library (Part 3)

III

Janitor

KIKIKICKED!

Poor V.V. Crews

back to the muddle and heaps

of the ground stacks,

pinning him tight

'twixt mold-eaten empty covers

and wads of chewed junk chewed up

'n plastered to the shelves.

All the Kings clapped their bindings

to drown out the boy's mooning

and the second shelf barked

n' yammered in protest

'til librarians silenced them

with menacing glares.

But despite all their moaning,

their groans 'n page rending,

Shakespeare's been captured,

enraptured in love

with a novella's cast off remains.

Her pages quiver,

electric in love, love, love,

on fire with love, love, love!

...

IV

So the councilmen gathered to quiet the rabble,

to find a solution to love's ugly grasp

on the sweet sonnet's heart.

...

All composed of great novels, the councilmen mumbled

their curses for all battered books and cheap zines,

published whelps they despised.

...

Wearing cracked leather faces all polished with pride,

misters Tolkien and Williams condemned all the days

V.V. Crews had been shelved.

...

So they gathered their thoughts and they laid down the law,

and although it was wretched they turned not their course:

the poor Shakespeare must die.

...

V

'Twas Poe who struck first!

With a rose and a cognac,

he flung the helpless lovestruck Sonnets from the shelf!

Words spilled!

Wilson spat from on high as she tumbled,

her pages ripping through the air.

Her screams brought a bookman,

cigarette pursed in his lips,

but when 'round the corner he came,

her voice had been hushed hushed forever,

her spine shattered on linoleum tiles!

VI

With a cry V.V. Crews

wrenched himself from the shelf,

half his cover torn off,

bleeding ink with his tears.

As the life left his lett'ring,

he kissed Shakespeare's Sonnets

and then died at her side.

In his shock, the bookman

let his cigarette fall,

a crime to the mind,

but a gift to the heart.

When the flames struck the lovers

it lit all the stacks!

Fire coursed down the aisle

and swallowed the shelves!

The bookman fled and dodged the blaze,

but the gods!

The passion fueled inferno

blackened their pages and blistered their bindings,

exploding the thoughts of the dead literati!

And as the blaze raged,

the linoleum burnt and peeled back from the floor,

and the stone foundations sizzled in the HEAT HEAT HEAT,

and the bodies of V.V. and Shakespeare

dissolved into ash,

burning into the floor

pure white letters of love.

When the fire chief

fought his way to their grave,

the floor had gone black

save for three pale white words:

AMOR VINCIT OMNIA

...

Epilogue

And thus the Burbage Public Libr'ry burnt.

Not bombed at all, but seared with flames of love.

To those who tread her hallowed halls, remember well

the lives of these lost souls, reduced to ash,

Their pages ever intertwined as one.

The Bombing of the Burbage Public Library (Part 2)

The Bombing of the Burbage Public Library (Part 2)

II (The Love Song of V.V. Crews)
Oh ruffle my pages
and flutter my heart,
burn my letters, page numbers,
I'll still thank the Bard,
for scribing this beauty
that's so high above me!
...
I wallow below her,
I can't turn my i's
from this golden inked beauty,
this calligraphied prize!
She's pine pulp pressed angels,
she's scented heavenly!
...
Oh burn my bindings, bookman!
Reduce me to ashes and blow me away!
I will form the dust on the high stand,
just to feel her caresses each day!
...
My pages are yellowed
my print has gone white
for everything fades
in this fluorescent light,
but her black leather cover
would deliver her from the sea!
...
Her verses are perfect,
her form is divine,
My letters are yours
if you say you'll be mine.
You're pine pulp pressed angels,
you're scented heavenly!
...
Oh burn my bindings, bookman!
Reduce me to ashes and blow me away!
I will form the dust on the high stand,
just to feel her caresses each day!
...
And all I want to do,
is bookend next to you,
Lying cover to cover,
I'll be read by no other!
Oh darling please
won't you be,
my Volume One,
my Volume One?
...
I wallow below her,
I can't turn my i's
from this golden inked beauty
this calligraphied prize,
She's pine pulp pressed angels,
She's scented heavenly!
...
Oh, oh, oh,
oh burn my bindings, bookman!
Reduce me to ashes and blow me away!
I will form the dust on the high stand,
just to feel her caresses each day!

To be continued...

The Bombing of the Burbage Public Library (Part 1)

The Bombing of the Burbage Public Library (Part 1)

Prologue

Some say it was an act of hate, and some

folks claim the devil struck to leave his mark,

a burning brand upon these hallowed halls.

But now the truth remains in musty tomes

and dated articles from years long lost

to time and memory's endless moldy march.

The Bombing of the Burbage Public Library,

a tale to last forever, seared into

the very stone foundations! Left them scarred!

And still there burns a flame unquenched for ages,

a testament to those who lost their lives,

those trapped, those pinned within the burning volumes.

But what is it that caused this tragedy?

'Twas love. It always is, for love is nature's fire.

I

In nineteen eighty seven,

a year before my birth,

the Burbage Public Library

stood above the town

atop the Allen Hill,

the crown of all below!

Librarians were queens,

and carried tomes of Einstein,

of Beckett, Steinbeck, Freud.

The staff shared lit'rature

among themselves and placed

the best upon the highest shelves,

and all these spines looked down

at every soul who passed

in reverance, heads bowed.

Above: The Gods! The Kiplings,

Melvilles, Hemingways and Twains,

the white haired men, all dead

and gone and buried far away.

Below them Vonnegut,

And further south was Brown and Rowling,

with fiefdoms of their own,

though small small small.

But to the ground, nose to pavement,

below the Dewey Decimal System lay

PARIAHS!

Forgotten broken spines that scattered hurly burly

'cross the bottom shelves!

The Groundlings!

The worth-a-dollar stacks

and stacks of fiction nonsense lost beneath your feet!

Trapped below knee level,

all were banished to obscurity

of agricultural research and fifty-percent paperbacks!

But there was one young book

of sturdy spine and youthful binding,

entitled simply V.V. Crews,

And though he lacked a second chapter

and was dog-eared deaf,

he had fallen index over foreword in love love love

with a Shakespeare's Sonnets high above him 'cross the ailse.

One day he took a chance

and FLUNG himself to the tiled floor,

wrenching his unbroken spine open to sing out to her!

And before a caretaker carelessly kicked him close again,

he sang!

To be continued...

e-Hades

e-Hades

A midnight owl! A god of the night!

He prowls his bedroom back and forth

and drapes the air with incense,

wraps it 'round him when he leaves,

a rare occurence!

Most nights he spends online

and conjures pixellated demons to his side!

Attached to his e-mails,

one finds lost souls,

in jpeg format.

Spider world wide webs caress his fingernails

as they dance across the keyboard.

All hail the Underlord Hacker!

All who rise against his might

must face his magicked, cursed words!

Ctrl! Alt! Delete!

Their POWER smites the might'est heroes down,

and cleaves spam in 'twain!

Outside his blood stained door frame,

an offering is made

of cookies and a glass of milk from mother.

He gathers them with kisses

and retreats into his lair,

his smokey hair flowing in the breeze of his door slam.

And as he slurps his sacrifice

and leaps upon his swivel throne,

he cackles in the moonlit air,

he grips his desktop screen with care,

commands the cosmos everywhere!

Until he passes out at half past one.

Please Take this Complimentary Pen

Please Take this Complimentary Pen

Come live here at River Down!

Lowest rent in town and locally owned,

A slice of heaven!

River Down!

Two bedroom flats fit for kings

with lake-side gym and swimming pool.

We provide all meals, home grown and eco-friendly!

River Down!

Free internet,

free satellite,

free manicure and pedicurists available day and night!

The finest boutiques from China,

featuring real Chinese boutiquers!

River Down!

A water park for guests!

Tanning beds for family!

Free parking, air fare, moon rides,

just to get you here at

River Down!

Take this singing harp,

this golden egg and the goose that laid it!

Stroll in your free orchard

with your compliment'ry pool boy from Persia!

Spend a day in your California winery

with your nine new Russian brides!

Help yourself to the waters of youth!

Drink and live forever, free!

In River Down!

Ron and Wendy in the Coffee Shop Downtown

Ron and Wendy in the Coffee Shop Downtown

There's twenty two feet between Ron and Wendy.

Twenty two smouldering, hot, feet,

as he watches through his shades

as she orders pumpkin bread,

his chemistry notes beneath his fingers,

TREMBLING FINGERS,

idle hands, and the devil's breakin' out his toolbelt.

Suddenly the "sweet cafe"

has HIT! PUBERTY!

Feel the luscious atmosphere

tug, tug, tuuug at his heartstrings.

Heartstrings?! Groinstrings!

It's ten degrees hotter

and the pheromones flow

thicker than the honey Wendy dips in her tea.

It's on her fingers!

And he watches as she sucks it off,

sweet tonguing beneath her fingernails,

and eyes eyes eyes that make

Men,

Shit,

Bricks.

And all the while, she feeels him,

keeps a smile behind her lips it's so strong!

He stirs her,

He grips her,

He tuh, chez, her,

Deep, lee.

And as she swirls her chamomile, she thinks,

Come get me!

Fuck that, come fuck me!

Ooo, cum fuck me,

right hereon the counter,

on the pumpkin loaf!

Drop that chemistry! I've got anatomy.

You should take it.

He wonders if she sees him.

Of course she does! She's TWENTY TWO FEET away!

He grips his thighs and feels Old Faithful rise

and thinks:

She's cute she's hot she's beautiful

She's fuckable so fuckable

Calm down but MAN she's fuckable!

Her hair looks smart...

I mean she, SHE looks smart

She has a smile she dresses well

I bet that she works out a lot

But man I don't work out a lot

She'll think I'm fat and NICE.

A nice friend.

A best friend forever.

But if she just gives me a chance

I'll prove that I can fuck as well

as any asshole out there!

So!

There's twenty two feet between Ron and Wendy,

but that's only a matter of inches.

Close'm!

My Theoretical Wife: The Return of MMCR-Y Poetic Justice

My Theoretical Wife: The Return of MMCR-Y Poetic Justice

My theoretical wife out performs a geisha,

smights "Susie Homemaker,"

taught Miss Julia Childs how to souffle.

She sits with me while I howl at the moon,

lets me croon with her over vegan fudge cupcakes.

Together we birth empires,

foster wolfkin

carry rainclouds to and fro

and take in views from rooftop pools.

She's a ball and chain of sunshine,

She's a thunderclap of joy.

Windchime

Windchime

Windchime

with silver stacked cylinders,

hanging in a windowsill,

three stories up and

inches from a rain wet pine branch.

If you wait for a breeze,

watch the dripping needles

tickle up against the chimes.

Ring.

Ring tang a ring.

Hear the wind play bells?

Hear it play and hear it speak,

whispering about the snow it blew off a mountain top,

how it caught my father's hair when he was five,

how it crushed a Kansas home.

Hear it all.

In chimes.

...

Ring.

Ring, ring.

Ring, tang a ring, tang.

Ring.

Pizza Sweat

Pizza Sweat

Pizza sweaty bar stools

creak in grease,

keepin' up with the

one two three hundreds loadin' them down,

all of'm lurched over the bar,

grippin' their cap brims

'n shovin' back their foreheads.

Cramped thigh to thigh,

their jeans all intermingle

to form a beer stained brotherhood.

Inspiration #3

Inspiration #3

It's something like a door,

creeeeeeaking open,

sometimes even.

...

Standing still.

And then somethin' kicks'er open

quick,

leaving you windswept

as it swings shut.

What's that Next to Gerunds?

What's that Next to Gerunds?

Pencil drawing

in the margins,

smoothed by fourth grade english sleep slobber,

still silly 'til doomsday.

Parker Pincher (Character play poem)

Parker Pincher

Parker Pincher

pinches pennies pinches nickels dimes and pence,

causes crimes of scroogery

that echo through society

cripples banks and loan officials!

Sizzles stocks and mocks the brokers!

A stalwart wall of frozen funds,

a savings of a billion-one,

puts MSNBC to shames,

and robs te market blind

by plucking shares at peny's worth

and selling them at fortune's price!

...

Parker Pincher, The Unstoppable Surplus Stopper!

The Last Words of Mad Baldwin: A Love Song

The Last Words of Mad Baldwin: A Love Song

One two street lights,

three has gone black.

Emily's passed it,

and 's not turning back.

And Baldwin's left reeling,

watching her run.

Helpless, in satin,

a merchant man's son.

...

He flees to the tavern,

he drinks himself blind.

Liquor has ta'en him,

and he's lost his mind.

The bar man, in passing,

calls him by name,

Baldwin what evils,

have brought you this pain?

...

He says,

Winds whistle and bristle at the back of,

my head!

And all my five senses have left me,

for dead!

Oh bury me, marry me, deep underground,

to the dark!

My love has gone, and I can't feel,

my heart!

...

His father is summoned,

and led to the scene,

a once well-known lover,

turned withered and mean.

He gathers poor Baldwin,

and whisks him away,

his father now cursing,

his MAL-lish-us ways.

...

The mansion is darkened,

the lights all put out,

the women are weeping,

the boys run about.

Death's come for Baldwin,

he howls out his name,

Breathe your last words, boy,

and I'll take life away,

...

And Baldwin says,

Winds whistle and bristle at the back of,

my head!

And all my five senses have left me,

for dead!

Oh bury me, marry me, deep underground,

to the dark!

My love has gone, and I can't feel,

my heart!

...

And his mother, she grieves,

and his father, he buries him,

and his nurses, they weep,

and the lovers, they worship him,

and the dogs bark 'n whine,

and the children all whisper his name!

...

Ten years have passed now,

and Baldwin's forgot,

the famine has struck them,

his family is naught.

Yet a lone figure sits there,

and clutches her thighs,

Caressing his gravestone,

Sweet Emily cries,

...

Winds whistle and bristle at the back of,

my head!

And all my five senses have left me,

for dead!

Oh bury me, marry me, deep underground,

to the dark!

My love has gone, and I can't feel,

my heart!

Trigger

Trigger

Here's an ole dog:

Trigger.

Yella teeth, yella eyes,

fangs that only gum and tease,

a pair of paws caked with scraps of concrete,

cracked nails packed with dirt

scrabble back and forth across linoleum.

He lays his muzzle 'cross your feet,

and sighs sleepily.

That look in his eye...

he wants to keep your toes warm.

Recovery Poem 2

July 5, Recovery Poem: No Hollywood

Folk music's hissin' through the pipes overhead,
knockin' at the bolts,
and a shattered Sarah McLachlan CD hits the ground!
And independent films flicker off the wall,
Jim Croce's prowlin' the halls,
Harry Chapin's got a sniper nest on the roof,
No Hollywood allowed!

Recovery Poem 1: Sick Day

Two days ago I got sick, and coupled with a presentation I had due today, my body couldn't handle the stress of poetry. That's right. I was at risk for Poetic Implosion. I've got a few poems to cover the missed days. Forgive me for my lateness.

July 4, Recovery Poem: Sick Day

I need to pick my teeth with nails.

They're filty black,

and my breath smells moist and sick.

If I could dig my fingers

into my sinuses,

they'd come out dark as soot.

I rock my neck from side to side,

some liquid thing dribbles

just beneath the bones of my face.

Someone!

Get the Flintstone vitamins!

I don't feel so good.

Some Kind of Terror

Some Kind of Terror

That patch of sky's awash with birds but.

The wind's not blowin'.

Trees still.

Air dead.

Stiff...

Nothin's movin' but those birds.

Black, birds.

Miles away,

but still, I got some kind of terror.

From those, birds.

Black.

Birds.

Gassy

Gassy

Something intestinal is grippin' me.

Twistin' my...

insides in loops,

squea...

Zin me from head...

down to my buh, buh, buuuh....

Owls.

Jammin'

Jammin'

Strings of strung up flash bulbs,

bare white and yellow

against a sweet tin roof,

and underneath comes misting out

this hint,

this hint,

this hint hint hint, of desert.

Of cactus blooms.

Out comes this radiating oasis

of sand coated palaces,

heated stars in arabesques

poured out into deep ink blue.

Prickling fruits with tick'ling juices

dripping from your chin,

down your throat,

and all the way past your breasts,

sweat sticky and the heat isn't helping.

Jam on, jam on, jam on.

Now crack pop crack pop crack pop

crack pot beats go blastin' past us

beat vibrations senselessly

electrify us lustily

Create a magic movement make us MOVE

make us MOVE make us

MOVE MOVE MOVE MOVE

DANCE tothebeat with your ri-the-mik feet

letit rock you back and forth across the

daaaaaaance flooooooor.

Across the daaaaaaance flooooooor.

Feelyour body pulse convulse

Coll apse uh pawn thee uh ther pee pul

on the daaaaaaance flooooooor,

on the daaaaaaance flooooooor!

Jam on, Jam on, Jam on,

Twaaaaaaang, skitters 'cross the gi, tar,

fiddles past the fiddle man,

makes the banjo squeeeeeeeal,

reel around your partner, hold her close,

and step in time, 2, 3, 4,

Time, 2, 3, 4,

rollicking, and waltzing,

and gliding together, four legs, two hearts,

and a 1 2 3 4,

flicker back, your eyes, to take her by, surprise,

humming, along to, the tune,

and keep a smile, upon your lips, as she dances 'neath your fingertips,

and spiral her, and spiral herrr, around.

Forget exact, lee where you are,

and give yourselves, to the guitar,

jam on,

jam on,

jam on.

Street Light Alley

Mon apologies pour mon lateness. I was washed away in a series of musical encounters today, one of which, Kenosha Kid, will be the subject of the next poem I post.

Street Light Alley

Street light alley's

waxin' over with

Street light alley,

carvin' some kind of canyon out

between this bar and the other,

and it's rainin',

pit pat pit pat,

washin' off the liquour slicked sidewalks,

running off into this bricked up canyon

Street light alley' got goin' on.

It sinks down from both sides,

and pools up in the middle,

six feet below street level.

You could be buried here.

Let that sink in as you sink in to

Street light alley,

graffiti flecked all over,

here a pentacle,

there a swastika,

side by side and slapped on

by a heavy handed spray can operator

who's long gone dead and buried,

maybe right beneath that sewer grate,

that door,

or Evans City Cemetary, Pennsylvania.

Yes,

Street light alley's

seen its share of travelers,

road men, roadies, singers, writers,

singer-song writers,

hookers, pimps 'n whores,

young men bored with the night life

fingering their pants' pockets,

and trying to stay out of the rain,

pit pat pit pat,

and two strung up pairs of tennis shoes,

dangling from some kind of wire,

hung up by a pair of lovers

who wanted to walk home barefoot.

Downtown Athens, 12:27 AM

Downtown Athens, 12:27 AM

Silver sun lights me up

eee leck, tronic lee,

neon flash flashin'

wake wakin' me wakin' me up.

Good morning sunshines

filtered through three plexi-omni-fiberglass screens,

pulpy,

and green to the touch.

Parking Lot Creeper

The Parking Deck Creeper

I'm creepin' in the parking deck,

four floors up,

spider fingers prying every rear view mirror

out of whack,

make you waste an extra minute

when you climb back into your HHR.

I love it up here,

scent of oil, cool concrete,

I know the bends 'n warps 'n tire marks

of fifty six, all fifty six parking spots.

You could say I live here.

The sun still comes up in the east,

four floors up,

and cement reflects a soft kind-of sunlight,

like rainy day tree tops.

I've got full wall windows,

open air,

singin' swallows, sparrows, crack-caw,

floatin' in out wall to wall,

and plenty of neighbors circulatin' residence.

I watch'm leave,

from four floors up,

and wonder when oh when oh when

they're comin' back.

Mine's a spotty neighborhood.

Letter from the Jail House

Letter from the Jail House

Hey!

Ma!

Can you beleive it

I'm a big league scorer

that's still undefeated

inconceivably leadin' the pack

of schemin' and squealin'

Jacks!

Of all trades.

Now,

Ma,

don't get excited

'cuz in jail not everyone

has got the feeling for fighting

but there are plenty of killers

who are set on fulfillin'

their dreams of headin' the place,

of runnin' runnin'

the way things are done in the

pen!

But not me.

Yes,

Ma!

I am pris'nor perfection

keepin' calm 'n stayin' low

'n dodgin' shower erections,

I've got a natural gift gift

for keepin' my nose clean

and in eighteen months

if my luck holds out

I'll-be paroled, paroled, paroled!

Liquid free,

and back at the trailer again!

World Cup Loss Haiku

World Cup Loss Haiku

Don't cry. Let's stand up,

carry the African wind

with us. Let's stand up.

-In Memory Team USA Soccer 2010

M.M.C.R. Poetic Justice

M. M. C. R. Poetic Justice

She's just poppin' poppin' poppin'

rockin' round the street,

in her corduroooy shooes,

dodgin' lightnin' bolts, sundresses 'n classic rock

rainin' out from storefronts

'n BARS! BARS! BARS!

Don't look now!

She's shimshimshimmy'n up a rain gutter,

LEAPing from LAMPpost to LIGHTpost

on dainty spider legs,

bare to the wind!

She's not a hipster.

She's just excited.

Wipin' pizza stains off her jean shorts,

she's hoistin' a tea to the heavens,

a Poetic Justice Mercenary,

little canary T-shirt outshinin' the sun

knockin' out her rhymes one-by-one,

a super heroine of ROCKin' proportions!

Care to summon this diamond of verse?

Leave a vegan cupcake on the steps of the E.R. Ca-fe,

and see what she says what she says what she

says says says,

catch her words as they fly

WHIPpin' by at Mach, 1, 2, 3!

QUICKly 'cuz she's POOF!

Gone!

Lost Somewhere in a Karaoke Bar

Lost Somewhere in a Karaoke Bar

The karaoke bar is dark, dark,

delicately dark,

some sour scent tickling right behind the eyes.

Someone's on stage,

thin lipped and razor legged,

so sharp they kill kill kill me dead in the corner,

swallowed up and tucked beneath a table.

A little lamp picks the door out from the rest of the room.

See couples come, see couples go,

disappearing reappearing

lis-sun-ning to worn out throats

hack drunken notes spilled out from a screen,

one big backlit light

flashin' out around that singer's silhouette.

Somewhere along the wall,

a polo shirt's dinin' with a lavender skirt,

underneath a split piece of greeeen molding.

Sippin' on beers, they're in love,

punch-drunk on the atmosphere.

A Short Shout-Out to Team USA Soccer

A Short Shout-Out to Team USA Soccer

Ninety one minutes

is all the time it takes to fall in love forever

on a blistered green pitch,

cleat scarred and frost bitten

by a South African midnight.

Spite at a Non-Smilin' Passerby

Spite at a Non-Smilin' Passerby

Don't act like you're

not noticing me

not noticing me

noting how you brush back your hair in the storefront window,

flipping back that auburn cascade,

tucking it behind your ear,

catching sunlight in your sunshades.

You make that lemon dress too sweet to see,

you're flowering the sidewalk,

and you expect me to walk skip run right past?

You caught me like a sand trap,

in plain view and inescapable

shining up against the glass

while the manequins dream they can dress like you.

You're reflec-flec-flecting every ray of sunshine

but you act like you're shade,

too cool to cue anyone to get a better view of you,

No smiles

No laughs

Only mathematical precision,

Stone-faced cheeks and chin held fast

to stop any hint hint hint of happiness.

You're murderin',

STY-ful-lin,

Killin' us dead with withholdin'.

Ain't no, misery, here.

Ain't no, dreariness, here.

Ain't no cause for this calculated reputation

save to save yourself from us,

to pen joy up and make it your plaything

so we're made to feel lower than dirt

on your three hundred franc shoes,

like we're nothin' compared to this girl with fake blues,

like If she can't be happy, what am I gonna do?

Well, waste yourself, then,

but when you see me

shinin' in the window

reflec-flec-flected in your shades,

know that you've faded into nothing greater than a passing glance.

Why frown and already be forgotten

when you can smile,

and begin to last forever?

The Family Beard

The Family Beard

My beard is blooming, coarse and thick to the touch.

My uncle's beards are fragile and all made of scruff.

My neighbor's is fiery, and my beard is too.

My father has no beard, but I sure as Hell do.

Walking at High Noon

Walking at High Noon

Desert asphalt,

cracked 'n blistered

blowin' dust up, every car that's pass-pass-passin' by.

Road's givin' off waves of heat

as I, trudge. Trudge. Trudge, forward,

Aching in the joints.

Drippin',

Draggin',

Haulin' each foot each step of the way.

'Cuz if I, keep, steppin'.

I just, might...

finish.

A Rainy Evening at Home

A Rainy Evening at Home

Silent shadows brood

under leaves

under trees

under rain

under sky,

and I lock my door to keep the storm clouds out.

Thunder gallops and jockeys for me, the sun retreats,

but deep under sky

under rain

under trees

under leaves where shadows breathe

I'm dry and non-conducting.

A Ten Minute Good Evenin' Jawja Walk

A Ten Minute Good Evenin' Jawja Walk

Ten minutes walkin' gives you:

Ten thousand fireflies,

Headlights,

Flashlights,

Moonlit pavement dry underfoot,

a wet dog snout pressed into your palm

and a wetter dog behind your hand,

and end-end-endless

crick cricket crick crecket crick cricket crick crecket

washing back and forth from tree to tree.

Crick, cricket. Crick, crecket.

Listen...

Sounds like six years old.

A World Cup Meditation Haiku

A World Cup Meditation Haiku

Held hands will repair

all the fists raised in anger,

Held hands, together.

No Loose Lovin'

No Loose Lovin'

I speak when I'm spoken to,

answer to few

'n I bow to whom show the respect they deserve.

Call me stern

stoic firm or stony hearted

Bottom line my love's not loose.

I give or I don't

When I don't I don't hate

I'm waitin' on trust to kick in.

I'm waitin' on reciprocatin' feelin' affection.

I'll work with you.

Work's what I do and I do what I love,

I'll love you with work,

work builds and it grows

and I'll grow with you.

With with with you as a pair that's together

not one-n-one on one or the other

but with with with you.

Take my hand, and let's work.

Love Soaked Txt

Luv Soaked Txt

Grl,

I aint much ofa talker,

evn less ofa walker.

Im a 2 ton pretzel eatin

salsa dippin

whizkid warlock,

lvl 60 in all of my guilds.

Yeah Im 5' 4'' n Im pushin 2-50,

but theres lots of luv flowin from these handles.

Car broke? Hey, Im sure no mechanic,

but dont panic cuz I,

am a Googling fiend.

Im hooked n connected

frm Georgia to Spain,

the websites of luv.

My anatomys shot but my knowledge is not.

Lemme rock u

from Euclid to Shakespeare to Poe,

Percy Bysshe Shelley n Dario Fo.

Our astrologys slammin

a match made in heven,

e-harmony couldnt do better itself.

Gurl down the hallway,

as youre readin this txt,

Ive hit my word limit n my batterys dead.

But know:

Youre musical, beautiful,

mystical, lyrical,

somethin worth runnin for,

somethin to dream.

Lazy Day #2

Lazy Day #2

Slip me a licorice mint,

I'm limp from sleep and edibles.

Pop in that sugary morsel

and watch me glide away with the taste.

A Watermelon Vendor Outside of Auburn, Alabama

A Watermelon Vendor Outside of Auburn, Alabama

Watahmelon watahmelon watahwatahwatahmelon!

Watah melon I got in store for you,

chilled to a crispy pink perfection of a melon,

deep green shelled melons

sweatin'-in-the sweatin'-in-the heat

in the back of my Fooooord pickup.

Here's-a'-here's-a nice one for ya,

ripe to burst 'n straight off the vine.

Thirsty fellas? Have no fear!

Cm'ere 'n sink those teeth

into these juuuicy, driiippin' wet watahmelons

and let yo' salivatin' be not in vain, haha!

A little dirt on the skin? Brush it off 'n it won't hurt!

I'll keep the dirt!

I'll keep the dirt right here in the truckbed,

just, in, case, you want it back,

YES SIR!

Don't you worry about that dirt,

God made dirt, so dirt won't hurt!

God bless ya, gentlemen, ya'll have a looOvely day.

Come again if ya can, make it a plan

to come rootin' for another fresh melon

'n I guaran-guarantee to have

watahmelon watahmelon watahwatahwatahmelon!

Watahmelon I got in store for you,

chiiilled to a crispy pink perFECtion, of a melon.

Mr. Swindleman Burns Down his House for the Insurance Money

Okay, this one admittedly took on his own life about halfway through. Not sure where he came from.

Mr. Swindleman Burns Down his House for the Insurance Money

Wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwuff POH. Fssssssst...

Awwwwwwwwll right, naow...

Only one last thing to do, to do, to do.

I pulled out mah gas line.

Gonna spew through ev'ry

Red soaked roooom

'n light'm-up-like-a suunriiise.

...

I'ma buuurn me a new. house.

'N wen that inn SHUR ants maaan,

driiiiives this way,

wrapped up in some flat, black, piece uh suit,

'n asks me just "what happened?"...

I'ma teeelll him, just, what happened.

I ain't gonna tell'm 'bout the

no Heat, no Air, No Locks

to keep mah children from disappearin'

thru a stank rotten door

that no landlord'll fix,

or a broken green window sendin' shadow cracks across

mah walls mah walls mah walls,

mah purple, blue, black, walls.

Purple-purple blue black,

drivin' their dullness their drabness

straight into mah heart,

Beatin' me purple blue black tellin' me I ain't got

no friend no friend no friend

to save me from the purple-purple-blue-black mem'ries,

the vivid images

of slit throat baby boys n' girls

reachin' reachin' reachin'

for their blood stained coke soaked momma's face

n' 'er overdosed dead eyes rollin' loose 'n their place,

I AIN'T. gonna, tell'm, that.

I'ma let'm ask ask ask me, just, "what happened?"...

WHAT. HAPPENED?

It. Burnt. Up.