With nine people in one House, eventually, we are going to need a plunger, the “discussions” get intense, and the first aid kit will be required, good food, and mostly good times had by all.
Fog over lake a smokey shadow
and no rain,
only blue skies forecasted
Its embarrassing at this point.
I want help.
I want love.
I want care.
I post vent videos saying I wasnt supposed to make it,
I’m not supposed to be here.
I give people all the signs they want,
and absolutely no one could gve two shits,
not a single flying fuck
the I’m about to make a decision I can’t undo.
all my friends get so much support,
paragraphs on their vent posts,
daily check-ins.
I get jack shit.
When someone shows me signs,
I stalk all of their social media like they killed my best friend.
I reach out and check in constantly,
I much all my effort into keeping someone else alive,
that I forget to make sure I don’t.
and I get nothing in return.
no matter how close we are,
are how great our friendship is,
or how amazing the person is.
I get nothing.
Empty handed so I hold the world in my hands.
giving gifts but never receiving them.
yeah, I have friends, plenty,
but would any of them pick me in a room full of people?
do any of them worry about me?
would any of them notice if I disappeared?
why do I have to beg for love?
for care?
All I want is to be included.
does that take an attempt to get noticed?
Like all republics
it can’t be kept
its great flowers
shriveling beneath
the heated mob do-
ing the dictator’s deeds
Like all republics
it survives under-
ground its insurgent
network of roots kept
safe by secrecy-sworn
soil awaiting liberating
rains time to rise up
making again my gar-
den bed safe (enough)
for floral democracy
free from the weeds
of discord and fake
fertilizers The hose
tap at last is turned off
She is trying to write but the words are not there
not today anyway
funny thing she thought
last night when she rested her weary head on the pillow
tried to find sleep
forget counting sheep
all she saw everywhere were thousands of unruly words
floating thoughts that could not be caught
swimming like a school of fish in her head
escaping any organization as they swiflty floated often into the ocean
of her dreams.
Because we are young and our blood
is boiling within our veins, we must
congregate summer nights
in the parking lot of the drug store,
dozens of us, prepped
in button downs and penny loafers,
sizing each other up, looking for reasons
to let loose the anger over persistent acne,
social awkwardness, of being scorned
and ridiculed by Jenny and Mary,
baiting for the accidental bump
with which to take supreme umbrage,
daring glare leading to a word,
a shove, a balled fist,
the crunch of cartilage.
The blood leaves its confines,
the warm energy of the sun
passes from asphalt to cheek,
petulant anger finally asleep.
Step 1: Get them used to artificial limbs–who could possibly have a problem with that? COMPLETE
Step 2: Tether them to electronic devices–home computers at first, never-leave-the-hands cell phones, over time
COMPLETE
Step 3: Brain wash them to believe what they see on electronic devices, then develop the ability to fake newsreporting, then photos, then videos–we will control “the truth” COMPLETE
Step 4: Further normalize artificial organs–who could argue with machines helping us stay “alive”?
COMPLETE
Step 5: Continue to wash the brain and replace weak, failing human flesh with machine ACTIVELY IN PROGRESS
Step 6: Monitor progress toward machinehood and determine at which point the soul vacates, leaving only our programming
WHEN COMPLETE, SOUL HARVESTING BEGINS IN ERNEST AND “HUMANS” ARE SOON EXTINCT
Beneath buildings and soft green canopies,
Late spring sunlight spills across sidewalks.
Open coffee shops hum with conversations.
Over Kirkwood, music drifts from rooftop bars.
Magnolia petals gather, bright against stone.
I wander the streets like I belong, if only for a moment.
Nights feel longer beneath warm lamps and passing laughter.
Green returns to everything—and
The air smells faintly of rain, espresso, and freshly cut grass.
On quiet evenings, the whole city hums to life.
Nothing about this place has left me the same.
In open-air cafés, strangers feel briefly familiar.
Days soften into something unhurried.
I have only a short stay, but it stays with me longer.
And has taught me to appreciate the small things.
Nights linger in a gentle stillness, and –
A part of me remains, wandering those streets.
I dreamed I was my wife’s ex-husband’s girlfriend,
though, inside, not essentially different
from __________
I also was my wife’s ex-husband
but just enough to lip-sync lines
bubbling from his breadbasket to his throat
I also was the third-person point-of-view
as the story unfolded out of __________
a voiceless director in a calm improv
an armless herder of napping cats
slowly removing their blindfolds
I also was the greed of Jones
whose compositions are being promoted
at the vinyl record store
my wife’s ex-husband and I were visiting
but only greed enough to lip-sync envy
bubbling up from my breadbasket to my throat
I also was an omniscient point-of-view
waiting in the wings
if characters want something explained
They didn’t
then
a teensy question bubbled
from my breadbasket to my brain:
What does he want from me?
He being my wife’s ex-husband
Me being the girlfriend
A response gestated in my belly
Rejection formed behind my eyes
Enzymes, triggered, expelled the answer
down, down, through muck, to ________
paralleling an excretory system
where nothing’s ever wasted
I forgot to mention the setting
Think thick velvet curtains
catfish in the benthic zone
black light Noh and Edgar Allen Poe
For more information and FAQs
click on the link to _________
