State of the Union
contempt of congress
weapon of mass confusion
the clock ticks for us all
I try to remove myself from it, from
how the parts of us that want to go too far
have glanced fingertips and how
I don’t want to push you away,
not really. But how could I be
who I’m supposed to be if I could admit
I want to embrace you
for as long as I can
and let what ignites between us
set fire the to this whole
goddamn town.
You can feel it come
Temperature dropping fast
Dark clouds scud above
Barometric pressure falls
Boom. Strike. Deluge. Overwhelm.
“I don’t eat meat.”
Look me up and down,
study my curves,
big hips,
thunder thighs,
stomach rolls,
arms that flap.
Someone once said,
“You know,
elephants
are vegetarians
too.”
-Maggie Brewer
Thursday Morning
It’s not that I have
to walk through fescue,
covered with dew,
& drive the cows
to the holding pen.
It’s not that I have
to think about you,
but I do,
& my feelings arouse
again.
It’s not that I have
to read poetry,
as sunshine filters through
the space between the curtains,
but I read Rilke in German.
It’s not that I have
to read Rilke in German; the
English version, too,
is on the opposite page, lurking
like a pastor’s sermon
within that space between us.
Oh poisonous fiber-optic grapevine,
give us back ourselves
and selfies and selfish selflessness,
give us privacy from these windows
into the noir of the human soul.
Let us go so that we can plug
ourselves back into the earth,
give us the chance to emerge
on our own.
a woman speaks
to a downy deer
he swallows yellow
flowers from her hand
She tells him twitchy stories
blue stillness, ancient stars
fir, cake, rain
how to smell his way
when to lurk and vanish
in the braided dark
~ Found poem composed/modified from words in Maggie Smith’s poem “Vanishing Point.”
my papa bear
is sleeping
my papa bear has tatted sleeves
a droopy surfer,
a katana up a samurai’s nose,
a Harley up his wrist,
and eventually
the family name inked in there
somewhere
my papa bear tells tales of
farting contests
in the emergency room,
waters the grass
but only at night
so he can display a gun
in his waistband, l
aughs at little people
jumping on trampolines,
and says
mondo gazungas
a lot
my papa bear is
in hibernation
