Something slips in again,

after Tom Hunley’s the Poetry Gymnasium

I Will Never Show You

only tell you
how to break eggs
without getting a fleck
of shell in your omelette 

This art calls for an incantation
to a higher being
and a savage use of science 
~~~an eruption of membrane 

Breathe, you must, three times,
deep, let yourself go;
go inward to where the embryo
waits for the perfect crack

along the rib of the skillet
Ms. Yolk waits for you
to mix the matter of her life
into a messy goo

waits for the fiery elements
to metamorph her into a substance
that will become your body,
the holy communion of your morning

I will never show you

the rural air is crisp in the day, 
it doesn’t choke like the night. 
then, the road is a
highway through the liminal, 
paved on a rampart between this world
and others. 

we stop at an old railroad trussell. 
in the night, it’s decayed.
rotted away at parts,
but the light fills in
what my mind corroded. 

dark and damp in spots,
sunbleached in others, 
it’s perpendicular to the road
and spans a shallow creek.
treetops like arrowheads
as well as power pylons 
are being grown in the horizon beyond. 

forsaking our lack of tetanus shots, 
we traverse the path
of stones and discarded steel rods
down to the creek bed,
but a distant tractor’s thrum
from the lot where we abandoned our car,
draws us away. 

we hit the road, 
Kesha on aux, 
drive back to Lexington
and to the nearest gas station
for snacks. 

we got lost on that road
one bored Spring night. 
today, we decided to come back-
interrogate all its dark spaces
in the light of day. 

Two Bluebirds roosting 
above chiseled cheeks
perched atop square jawline

Crooning solemn hymns
of hope, love, longing
and commitment

Wings expand broadly
he lifts off, takes flight
to another’s nest

miss you like crazy
a sign
as in a literal, stakes in the ground, sign
and I’m curious
who misses who and what’s the situation
doubtful I’ll ever know the real story

I remember asking if you missed me
you assured me you did
were you simply being nice because who does that
when such an inquiry is made
did you miss me yesterday and today and all the days
or are you rolling right along, carefree and comfortable
who’s to say and doubtful I’ll ever know
the real story

*side note: my friend Linda and I were riding along yesterday and saw the actual “miss you like crazy” sign and she challenged both of us to write a poem about it…so here it is

I’m a terrible father.  

When I drop you off at your mother’s house, 

I’m a failure.  

The frustration zooms out from my mouth, 
you’re not responsible for the verbal slips lopping off my lips. 

Passing on aggression  
Pardon me—wrong word. 
Passing on a legacy of inadequacy: 

As man. 
As dad.  
As human.

Truth be told— 
I simply want to cry to prove to you that I truly am bold. 

I cannot decide
which picture to use on here:
a joke or facade.

Chorus : 

Just tryna find 
some way
to connect 
Aint got time
to wait 
with baited breath 
Just tryna get by 
one day 
to the next 
One day 
to the
next

(x2) 

Verse:

Aint got time 
To be afraid 
To make a mess 
That’s what it might take 
So take it as a lesson 
Say it’s gon be okay 
Even though you left us 
From this low place 
I cant let it go to waste 
Treat myself like a throwaway 
Still remember what you said 
When I’ve got no space  
From my head 
Im an artist baby 
Gotta create till im dead  
Sometimes just gotta laugh at myself 
Won’t let you use it against me 
So I aint asking for help 
better off smackin myself 
How I get stage fright 
I was cast as myself 
Can’t put my passion
on the shelf 
Smokin devil cabbage 
Ashin in hell 
They monopolized everything 
Cant afford to stay at the hotel 
Fightin for my life 
Got saved by the bell 
Weavin time’s needle 
in the spoon the brain melt 
These new hit songs like white people 
They don’t age well 

Chorus:

Just tryna find 
some way
to connect
Aint got time
to wait
with baited breath
Just tryna get by
one day
to the next
One day 
to the
next