Posts for June 18, 2020

Category
Poem

Small Town

An energy drink

And a coffee

Edm music blasting

Blue lights glowing

A million backroads

Dreaming about houses

And old house

And a thousand stories

Best friends living

The night away


Category
Poem

Naru In The Park

Bradbury, hummus, beets
sisters talking politics
Naru in the park

Stars above flicker
fireflies, mosquitos buzz
Loons sang on the lake


Category
Poem

Overrun

I’ve fallen for
the wild violets
and purple deadnettle,
find it strangely beautiful
how they struggle for dominance-
life traded for life to bloom.

I keep a few
preserved behind glass-
a small monument
to self-preservation.

Often I dream
of the end, wonder
if the weeds will weave
their way between my ribs,
press me between their pages
and proliferate.


Category
Poem

Unhealthy

Frequent
hospital visits
and
seemingly
nonstop
appointments
have ensured
that I 
will never
forget
how
unhealthy
I am.


Category
Poem

Blood and Thunder

I worry
that Ahab’s 
deranged
obsession
makes 
too much
sense
because 
to me
that white 
whale 
means nothing
and everything

dying on the back 
of the monstrous 
hate
doesn’t sound too bad

I don’t blame him
even if it were folly


Category
Poem

Relax Your Jaw, Honey

I once loved a man with an embarrassing tic.
Anytime he told a lie he would quickly whisper the truth.
It rolled out of his lips as a ribbon that wrapped around his neck.
I used to ignore it. It’d be rude to bring it to his attention.

But every lie made the ribbon a brighter, bolder red.
I once asked him, “What’s on your mind?’
“Nothing,” he said confidently. Cooly.
Under his breath the ribbon betrayed him. It whispered:

You always grit your teeth, babe. Relax your jaw, honey. You’ll bite right through your tongue. Let me be the one to bite it for you. Let me be the one who clenches their fist. Whose teeth grind to powder from worries unknown. How do you keep all that tension in such a small frame? I’m bigger, let me relieve you of your duties, baby.

 

The ribbon grew wider, his whispered words
Had swirled together to paint a scene.
His whispering was undoubtedly involuntary.
My eyes darted from the ribbon to his placid face.
He didn’t seem notice my horrified expression.

I hadn’t noticed until that very moment
How dull his eyes were.
How flat his features seemed.
I asked,“Tell the truth, what’s on our mind.”
“Nothing, babe! Why all the questions?”

Let me open up my chest. I’ll let you pour your sorrow, your energy, your pain inside of me. Let it trickle down my belly, past my navel, down my groin, roll down my legs where it’ll pool around my feet. Let me cradle that pain for you, sweetie. Fill me up with all the misfortune you have to offer, there’s space in my chest for the both of our suffering.

The ribbon was so red now.
So wide. It coiled around his neck tightly.
Yet his face gave nothing away.
He he still looked so calm. Unbothered.

Let me cry your tears for you baby. Let me wear your skin for you, darling. You skinned your arm when you were 9 and so did I now. You got lost in the woods that day, whelped skin stinging, face dirty, weeping wildly. Let me hold on to that awful memory for you! Let me bear the burden of existence for both of us! I’ll answer to both names, I’ll think both our thoughts! Let me be you for you! Just kick back, love! Let me bleed your blood, baby! Let me bleed you ou–

And then
suddenly
his ribbon
ran out.


Category
Poem

Cockcrow Daze

I woke in the
purple-grey hue
of early morning to
a whippoorwill’s call
ringing out loudly
like it was right
beneath my
bedroom window.
I listened to the
solitary
whippoorwill
whippoorwill
whippoorwill
slicing through
the still air, and
I lay awake
long after
it stopped
absorbing
the quiet
radiating
from the rest
of the house
normally filled
with the children’s
roaring disagreements
or laughter, but it was
much too early
for them to stir.
I dozed back off
in the hazy light
pondering whether
or not it was all
merely a dream.


Category
Poem

deliberation does not

exhausted I can execute little
not sure where to go
from here or there
is a calm
obtainable
deliberation does not
become me
so I concede
and say goodnight


Category
Poem

Driving across the bluegrass parkway mid morning #1

passing Bardstown’s 
newest distillery–all steel
& glass, wildflowers pop
in sunshine.


Category
Poem

My Poetry Is a Favorite Work Shirt

My poetry is a work shirt
my favorite poems are oil stained
weathered but sturdy seams
gritty, hard, blue-collar truth

My favorite poems are stained with rust
what poetry is woven into its work
a blue-collar honesty
it is strong fabric

My poetry is woven together in its thread
the haunted remains of a meal
in a world of sharp rocks
my poetry is tough fabric

The ghost of breaking bread in a stain
weathered but sturdy seams
with its strong denim
my poetry is a favorite work shirt