floating and leaving no trace
the hospital room
smelled of urine
and chemicals
disinfectants
just conscious enough to grip
the tubing in his nose
that drained fluid from his gut
he rolled his eyes
staring without seeing
yanking the tube out
inch by inch
until the nurses
restrained him
finally strapping his arms
to the rails
your cold hands
send chills down my neck
after our autumn walk
Yes, that’s right. We have another reading added to the October Open Mic page. Pleasant Street offers us a wonderful poem. Make sure to check out the Open Mic page and check out her site, Are You Thrilled. I am!
the sun barely up
not even enough to
flood the room with light
not with all those clouds
i pull the covers
over my head
i can hear her in the kitchen
and i feel guilty
about staying here
the sheet is stretchy
manufactured to keep you
cool in the summer
warm in the winter
but i lay here
and breathe my own hot breath
replacing oxygen
with co2
i’ve buried one of us alive
i hear the cup
clink against the counter
how easy to alter shape
a little augmentation here
a little amputation there
slick fingers
smoothing rough hills
filling crevices
made uniform
yet
passing
through the fire
it shrinks
it cracks
it weeps
the moisture boils out
like a microwaved potato
if you’re lucky
it’s not trash
you may be left with
a vessel
that can be filled
the pencil sharpened
easily turned, leaves its mark
a gray smudge on white
drunk on chocolate milk
we eat honey
play pink and blue and
pant on the moon
with lust
——
i had some records
that i would put on
the turntable
drop the needle
and spin
them backwards
we’d all heard about
led zeppelin’s secret
messages but the
beatles were more to my
liking
the creepy
paul is dead rumor
–it would be a meme now–
filled me with longing dread
half-hoping it were true
knowing it couldn’t be
vinyl is hip again
in small doses
because you can’t let
nostalgia grow too big
or you won’t make money
my voice is a backwards
message
no needles and vinyl
just digitally flipped
waveforms
like the waves
pulling me out
washing me up
——
Now with audio!
backmasking 1
backmasking 2
for syllables and rhymes i wrack my brain
i took up this challenge–must be insane
were forty-nine poems all just to train
my poet’s fingers? well, if it’s a strain
it’s worth it since it’s for you, my dear jane
oh. moon
——
just a small thing
the way you turn you head
to catch a glimpse
Words and Feathers 