Apple equals gnat .
Decomposing equals pain and perish.
If you are decomposing with no pain nor perish then you have something
I cannot explain.
Heartbreak is decomposing and that is more than
pain and perish it is a horrible leveled up pain.
And I hope that no one deomposes from Heartbreak so solemnly that they have that all throughout their lifetime
and to the people who did decompose from Heartbreak
I am so so so so so so so so so so so sorry!
I’m glad math was never their strong suit
Never taking accurate inventory
And the way they’d pirouette late at night
Kept them distracted
Never having to focus on the silence
Sorrow accompanies with thoughts
Of too much salt in the ocean
The things we can’t change in life
And you never counted the splinters
In the floorboards
You were always too preoccupied
Finding new ways to dance
And too be sure
When you were in the middle of a routine
I would steal some worry
Quickly hide some pain
And you never seemed to notice
When you counted
Where there should have been surplus
The counters were bare
I.
hey, joe.
yeah?
what’s up?
nothin’. what’s up with you?
nothin’.
thirsty?
nope.
wanna beer?
hell yes.
II.
whatever happened with that chick?
what chick?
the one with the eyebrows.
every chick has eyebrows, prick.
not like those.
oh–judy.
yeah, judy. so, whatever happened with judy?
hell if i know.
care if i call her?
call her what?
call her on the phone, dumbass.
judy?
yeah, judy.
whatever, man.
cool.
III.
look–there’s billy.
hey, billy.
yo, man, what’s up?
hey, billy.
how’s it goin’, joe?
not bad, man, not bad.
wanna beer?
hell yeah.
what you been up to, man?
me?
yeah, you, fuckface.
i just got laid.
oh, really?
yeah, really.
who was it?
you don’t know her.
come on, man, we know all the girls ’round here.
that’s right, man–we do.
well, you don’t know this chick.
try us.
yeah, what was her name?
i’m not sure, really.
she had these wild eyebrows.
was her name judy, by chance?
maybe. not sure.
damn, man.
what?
what’s wrong?
IV.
hey, jake–
three more beers.
Delighted to get in the shower
each day, one moment in time
of soapy scrubbed perfection.
I get out dripping,
stepping fresh onto the blue
fluffy bath mat now imprinted
with my wet footprint, and towel
dry, ready for clean clothes.
My purification exercise,
redemption for a new day.
This must be something like
forgiveness, a spotless beginning,
a relinquishing of the past.
alone in April
I see purple blossoms
I hear petals fall
tattered sepia
old photo of grandfather
kindling crackles in fireplace
remember mother
wild roses in thunderstorm
her temper still alive
why do I love frogs?
why do you take coffee black?
facts but no answers
standing ovation
you took center stage in spring
never afraid to show off
tied with golden rope
I recall your last ballet
velvet theater curtains
when a dad is cruel
he forgets your winter coat
river ice shatters
1.
A scattering series of pops
2.
Call them peony, crysanthemum,
willow, palm. Call them diadem,
horsetail, ring.
3.
A distant relative used to host a potluck
4.
Call them Black Cat,
Phantom, Brock’s Burning Bush.
Golden Shower Fountain.
5.
The old man at Kroger says,
if folks want to burn up
And in the dim
cool
empty of the morning
I can sit
by myself
and feel like the stone
in the river,
worn down by
the tumult of water
above me,
softened,
heavy,
dull,
buried.
Pine Mountain Cemetery XXVII
Tom
Once not too long ago, right here on
This very mountain, there was one
Brought up the path we’ll ne’er forget.
The trumpets rang a clarion song,
A new call to the post, an eternal
Ride through curtained mists ahead.
Laughing, stomping, pounding,
Hot walker to the end. You lived,
Kentucky Hard Boot, to the core.
Red hair, blue eyes and Irish
Temper a foil for your hidden
Giving heart, not such a secret.
You rode through life a rousing
Wind tousled hair, glee bubbled
From heart, middle and head.
Down, up, and back again.
Never neutral, always reaching.
Your like, rare, seldom matched.
St. Peter will smile at the gate
To see you running apace
On his jewel encrusted track.
Hard Boots left below will hear
Echoes of your laugh when once
Again the trumpet calls to post.
Yet never gone, you’re always just
Beyond the finish line calling us
To finish strong, life’s best wager.
