Lead Off or Hughie Jennings
Sometimes I sit
quietly
and I wish
that this life
came with a
batting helmet
or
at least a rain delay
because
i’m tired of
being hit by
pitches
Sometimes I sit
quietly
and I wish
that this life
came with a
batting helmet
or
at least a rain delay
because
i’m tired of
being hit by
pitches
from the Latin for weep
this dusk takes on an edge
of sorrow
before the auroral rain
The land that we stand upon
Brag about; declare to so love
Was not bought with a dollar
Nor with even a thousand
It was taken through blood
That shed deep into the soil
Fertilizing fruitful crops of
Sugarcane, tobacco, cotton
Blood turned to bars of gold
The crimes forgotten because
Money in hand is worth more
Than the value of humanity
Everything has a value; a price
Especially when it is something
Everyone wants, but only few
Will get rich with the gain.
June, 2025
Buzzing
in the midnight dark,
It didn’t fly past without
targeting my head,
smacking into my cheek
Until I screamed,
Slapping at it, “Offf! Scat!”
And of which the next morning
I feared…I may have killed
a lost hummingbird,
but which was teally
a new June .cicada.
1958-1960: a period of uncertainty; miners had fewer working days and long stretches with no work available; when unemployment of $30 per week ran out, the state of West Virginia hired men to clean roadways for $1/hour
Uncle, what have you done
(What could I do)
Were you Desperate
Bored
Were you Poor &
Unemployed
Let’s call it a period of uncertainty
Let’s recollect you didn’t finish high school
You were only 18
Let’s say the other two men were coal miners
There were fewer working days
Let’s say you’re killing time in Keystone
One of them knows a man over in Brewster Holler
He carries over a grand on him works the night shift
Block the road
Jump the man
Brandish the gun
Bind his wrists and ankles
Take the money
Drive the car that leaves
The man bound by the side of the road.
Afternoons harsh with swirling and clinging
Bulbous orange eyes
Veins etched on translucence
Window to darkness
Equal parts disturbing and eerie, beautiful and bizarre
The bourbon brood buzzes, no reprieve for my fried psyche.
Rest offered a bit of respite from the crush of pain
And still the pulsating drone of brooding emerged in my veins
My high-pitched anxiety, abdomen’s whines not for a mate
But to attract peace behind social eviscerate-tion.
Did one get inside?
A single loud repetitive click startles, unseen, infinitely felt,
Deafening, inescapable.
Sapped, I suffer the piercing gloom, ooze draining,
Root to survival, betrayal intensely etched, overspill translucent eyes,
Hope for the will to shrill shriek my significance until shadows subside.
June 1st, 2025.
Perfect. It will be perfect.
The day I finally come out as a poet.
Yes, Lexington, I write poetry.
Witness me, world! I will show off my first poem!
June 1 2025
Houston I have a problem
I’m not so sure I can write a perfect
poem under so much pressure.
People are reading this right?
june first 2o25
I think i might be having a break
down ? don’t know
No ideas
let me think
six one twenty two five
mind exposed scared naked
rush rush write right
dont care what please
write write WRITE RIGHT
.
.
.
June 1st, 2025.
Perfect. It will be perfect.
Tiptoed along the tile floor in the bathroom,
barely breathing as I tried not to wake you,
tears leaking down my face almost as quickly
as the drip from the rusty faucet in the sink.
It didn’t work.
You barreled down the hallway
just to tell me I’d be prettier
if I exfoliated once in awhile,
ignoring my shoulders
trembling at the timbre of your voice,
the coarseness of the growl
rising from your core with the force
of a dragon robbed of a piece of gold
as you blinked and realized I was crying.
I kept the gold piece long after you were gone,
for it reminds me, with its jagged edges
that glisten even in the dark before dawn,
that I survived the flames.
I memorized the weight of your step
the force behind the gait
it stands caged in my body as
a jump
caught in my skin as
a shiver
trapped in my throat as
a scream
that was never released
instead my insides brace
for the violence
you shared freely
like love
