in the bookstore
looking for anything but an axe to grind
The only way to miss someone is like crazy,
like full on I’m gonna write it big on a sign crazy,
like I’m gonna get a mallet in the middle of the night
and pound that shit into the ground crazy,
like I’m gonna learn the violin for the next six years
just so I can appear all ethereal under your window
and play you the perfect song that will put lift
into your nightgown and float you down to the ground
where we will let go of the violin and the lessons
and run out into the streets where we will
make the same mess all over again but this time
laughing, this time a new wild in our eyes crazy.
This one goes out to Debra Glenn and Linda Freudenberger, who I don’t know, but with whom I share mutual intrigue about a sign they saw yesterday on the side of the road that read “miss you like crazy.” Being the good poets that they are, they then posted poems in response to the sign’s endless tantalizing mysteries. So, now, here’s mine! Go check out theirs too.
torn from the film envelope
all vivid images
caught by one small
glass eye a segmented shutter
closing like a lid on
the marketplace its
unpronounceable name
tangy bouquet spices & lilies
turquoise ocean laced
white edges
improbable scarlet
birds that pirouette
& jette far above
eddies laying themselves
to dry
on ivory sands
all reduced to glossy
fragments
fading as you watch
unable to keep
their promises
that when you cry in a park,
people care:
the landscaper
tells you about the book
he’s been reading to his daughter
every night before bed,
the park services worker
asks you if they’re happy tears
(they were),
my lover
just holds me,
the children
learn to cry too
i think
there’s something beautiful
here
All the ambitions I have had have had leaks like defective boats.
All the words I have had have had meanings I didn’t mean.
Everyday shadows shadow everyday people every day.
All the dollars I have had have had other places to go,
to oil companies, back to the government that printed them,
to insurance companies that ensured my soul would never be ravaged
by riches, and all the angers I’ve had have had reasons
to grow in my gut like pearls in oysters, but I think my shadow
has had enough of shadowing me. It’s ready to roam alleyways
and haunt coffeeshops without me cramping its style–a teen’s parent–
and I admit my humanity has made me want to hide
from bill collectors, from conversations, even pleasant ones, shit,
from my own shadow. Shadow, the years we’ve had together have
pulled me apart. Though we’re parting, you’ll always be part of me.
I just saw the bottle-brush cat
kill a squirrel in it’s prime
I watched from across the street as it flailed
And wondered what power
must that cat have, as it barely
seemed to notice
just went on blinking slowly in our direction
At the same moment a Blue Jay alit
And commenced to wailing
as they do
-Police birds of the neighborhood-
Murder! Beware! This Black cat is marked!
Don’t trust it!
It takes no prisoners!
Don’t unlock your doors!
A cardinal came to listen
To the fervent sermon
My cat,
who has been hellbent
on banishing old bottle brush all week,
was on the verge of crossing the road
for not the first time
to instill a lesson into that cat
but I wonder if deep down
her pride took a hit
seeing someone else “villain”
so much better than her
i wish my heart
was
large enough
to eat
the bloodied pain
you
passed on to me
as love
Am i
Am I intriguing enough?
Am I saying something?
Holding meaning that will provoke your thoughts into depths
never experienced or explored
before
and mundane.
Am I saying everything just the same
as everyone else
My thoughts don’t seem that way
My words can’t seem to articulate
or maybe they do…
The role of disappointment
Disappointed.
Now what? What do I have left to say?
What could be important enough that your eyes
follow the words on this page?
Everything played out as if
Ami.
It’s all a presentation, illuminating the darkness;
even so for measurement of success…
How uniquely and full of weight may
I convey
even my darkest of darkness?
That’s how I will measure
Then. search for comments
I search for meaning how you see me,
see myself
wow
what
a
cluster
fuck
what a load of irony
and catch 22s
and damned if you do’s…
I cling to the page
whether there’s an audience or not.
I just find the worth and your approval
Even though they’re my thoughts,
my words,
my feelings
and my experiences somehow,
I still want you to be the judge
To tell me it’s good enough…
How… I articulate it is worthy of your praises
recognition
and glorification maybe even.
Or do we just glorify our assessment of;
as well just as much?
Dear God, no wonder I can’t sleep.
(Echos of mocking laughter)
Stood in dewy grass for awhile
bare toes digging into coolness
eveyrthing is damp including me
thats alright for just a little while
I dumped all the cars and trucks in a blender
and smeared it on toast.
I drink gasoline instead of cow’s milk,
and I have one green eye and one red eye
no yellow.
No warning.
Just break.
Hope and pray.
grief is smog in my throat.
particulate matter clogs my joints.
i can’t say what i have to say.
i’m stuffed with cotton and lard.
