Sunday, October 26, 2014

Untitled

The man stood at the food court
looking toward the fountain

Jim Beam breath and greasy hair
and unsteady legs brought him closer

People looked up from their
plastic trays and paper cups

His boots weighed a ton and
each step took seconds

He stooped down and placed his hands on
the marble lip and felt the spray of water

Copper pennies and nickels shone
like light through stained-glass

slurred body
dizzy speech
head thoughts

He fumbled in his pocket,
took out a coin and hurled
his wish to god and felt better






Sunday, September 28, 2014

Save Me

This one's called "Save Me"

The yellow glow from
the shadeless filament casts
halfhearted glares on my
living room window

I'm staring - staring at
myself, faded colors
mistranslating

Now the night gets
colder, rain turns to hail that
clicks on the glass like
bullets from heaven

crackles are shackles
from the embers of
burnt oak that
breathes shadows
on the walls

A dull chime
from the grandfather clock
and I'm done seeing me
but I still stare

outside blackness turns
dark purple as dawn arrives

My face lessens in the window;
it's almost gone now
I see headlights at
the edge of the driveway -
at the edge of darkness,
and they meet my eyes and
blind me

Friday, September 19, 2014

We Made Ourselves

Here's an instance
real instance
"gather up the slit-eyes -
take them out west"
out past tribal lands
with lakes of gin
and streams of questions


but we weren't part of that
boots made by chink children
somewhere in Bangkok and
baht flowing like soy sauce
into someone's gullet

traps eyes of a woman's stare
and thanks his praising boys
never once looked down
and thought of the children

we made ourselves
we worked really hard
we went to school
we are here and
they are there

comatose humility
white owl eyes
Ford tough skin
fossils of privilege
 





 




Thursday, September 11, 2014

Singularity, Movement, Decay

Walking past
Simple "hi"
Stardust tongue
Galaxy eyes

Big plans
Growing old
Slurping marrow
Gone tomorrow

Tuesday, August 12, 2014

Pitch


Don’t make me sit alone,
dull and languid, by myself
with nothing but a mental image
of the person who sharpens me

Tantalizing advertisement
Promiscuous temptation
Quick pitch from Billy Mays
and a piano crashes onstage

a smack to the face,
blunt force
cheeks red
proverbial dream

Sunday, August 3, 2014

Breath

I called your name through
frost-bitten lips - my face so close
to the glass that it fogged up and
I knew you ignored me and
I really should have wrote my message in
the window that day but I didn't because
I thought you wouldn't see me

Monday, July 14, 2014