pokemon backpack
a boy’s last summer ice cream
smiling–unaware
sonnet agley (20160825)
i don’t want to know how things are going
not with you–not with your resurrected life
i have little interest in knowing
if you’ve given your hair up to the knife
i can’t scrape up the enthusiasm
to hear you talk about your latest trip
once i thought it was because the chasm
widens–a bridge of shoddy workmanship
but really all i can hear is white noise
i feel a constant pressure on my skin
‘neath water where leviathan enjoys
the dark saline fluidity of sin
sunk deeper than any of neptune’s pools
my leather heart blossoms in bleached spicules
reflections on walking the dog (20160824)
i’m afraid of the last time
i’m going to walk the dog
it’s not that he’s sick
mind you
he seems to be
in pretty good health
though he’s missing most of his teeth
and has more years on him than any dog
i’ve ever had
but it’s the not knowing the last walk
will be the last walk
that grinds its teeth
in my ear when i lean over to pet him
or wave the air frantically
because of his secret gas attack
so secret
that if it’s silent
he doesn’t even notice it
so i have to remind myself
to not get impatient
or tug at the leash
when he want’s to stop
and sniff ever message on our walk
i don’t want the last thing
i said to him to be
hurry up
My Poem “in our box” at SlasherMonster
Hey, check out a poem I wrote especially for Rose and Matt (and Dead Donovan) at SlasherMonster. Browse around, enjoy the chilly miasma, cool art and articles.
Maybe you’ll be inspired to submit!
swing (20160823)
swing
the pendulum in our chests
spine to sternum
swing
the throbbing behind our eyes
temple to temple
swing
the blood rushing in our veins
toes to earlobes
swing
the shadows on the cave wall
projections of the real world
swing
the tire on the rope
swing
the hour
swing
the jazz
swing
púca (20160822)
long-eared
dark-skinned
grass eater
speaking with a human tongue
what a frightful beast
under the moon
are your lips red with blood
or just the dew
i’ll give you a fine silk suit
if only you will help me
finish this bit of labor
though i know it is a sin to ask a boon
i think farmer mcgregor had best
be wary of you
and not take the offer of a ride
from a strange black horse
eden in fair weather (20160820)

this garden fruit and soft summer colors
you come to me in the shade
world relaxed, murmurs of
bees and no lonely blossoms
though soon gentle eden will know
wild wind, wet rain, winter frost
——
everybody’s happy (20160819)
these rooms overflow, voices ringing with laughter
i too let my voice, a small bell, ring with laughter
but it’s false and hollow in my ears, fakery
of the worst kind. they watch me, ringing with laughter
because they see inside, they smell the rot of me
their noses wrinkle, their throats catch, stifled laughter
ah, if only i could slip away unseen now
then they could resume, a profound choir of laughter
but i stay where i am, eyes on my back, my neck
cadaver cold, waiting for the end of laughter
——
lost at sea (20160818)
dry winds mourn for us
my eyes also dry–just salt
a vanished ocean
but even the tide returns
come–it’s time to start rowing
——