Posts for June 7, 2024 (page 3)

Plaster your name,
Little man

Sing your praises–
Prince of the beggars,
King of the gutters–

And don’t let mutiny
Keep you from building yourself up
All over again

Don’t let the twisted aches
Of those you call
Friend,
Patriot,
Citizen,
Be the cotton that fills the ears
Of the righteous,
That keeps you from everything
Your money can buy 

Don’t let the screaming voices
Of those you call
Less than,
Crackhead,
Failure,
Reach you in your ivory tower

Don’t let a rebuke of your shortcomings
Teach you anything
Other than how lost these sheep
Must truly be

Silk strands between trees trouble us
Flying insects in greater danger.

Electric eels surpass us in voltage
who knows what they think about.

and with numb fingers

my quaking mind the root rot

I smother myself

engines sound like the growl of anger
you’d here from bears
in woods way off 
not here in this little city
which thinks it’s a big city
and some ways is
until you stroll the streets on
a first Friday when the tourism
agency thinks it’s doing good 
but all you see are the same sights
same sounds
and meet the same people
you’ve known the whole time
living here
and it’s a sweet night
anyway
waiting in the drive thru 

i yelled out to the sea:
i just want to feel loved!

& i thought i heard it echo back,
but perhaps it was just the waves

Tarragon gone
Sage consumed
Thyme expired
Chives chopped
Basal used up
Only Rosemary remains
When you are left alone
lonely is the only word

Craving a reprieve from the monotony of work

I escape to the same paved path

My feet have memorized the journey

My heart could guide me with my eyes shut

Each day I pass my favorite apple tree

Younger than its courtyard counterparts

Bold and beautiful just the same

Last year

She was not content with blooming once

Defying all odds

She fruited again during the death of autumn

As her leaves fell her apples grew green

They remained rotting on the branch

After winter snow had arrived

I was mesmerized

Perplexed by this perseverance

She robbed herself the chance of wintering

In favor of reminding the world

That even in the most ordinary there can be

Magic

The jinni in my bones

WELCOME to the world little one. You can start out with some shots by
a pediatrician every few months. Try not to get tetanus when
there are too many nails in the road. Then, you can breathe
in the sweet fumes of pesticides when you play in the yard.
Maybe you can get a phone at the ripe age of eight, make 
sure to make those addictions lifelong. You better not
forget to throw your trash out the window and avoid
the used needles discarded on the beaches. Next,
you can start answering the door for strangers,
praying they’ll be the “good ones”. You can
lose yourself slowly and not recognize
yourself in the casino mirrors. Maybe
you can wait to drive distracted until
your thirties, texting your ex-wife.
Don’t forget to ghost your friends
and lose your emergency 
contacts. Stop talking to
your parents. You can
become a part of 
the toxicity.
WELCOME

startled awake at two am
bedroom illuminated
by the glowing green
stoplight down the street
from my childhood home
whistling cars pass beneath
those sixty-year-old windows
catching the figure in the cherry
dresser’s rectangular mirror
the face becomes disfigured
a lack of light and sight
blurring her features
the girl staring back is no longer
soft around her once-lacy edges
her face is angular with
evidence of fairy-stepped
dances on sunkissed
cheeks with strands of wild
curls floating above
her barely-there brows
the delicateness locked
behind ill-fitting armor
donned each night
protecting her from my gaze