drunk on chocolate milk
we eat honey
play pink and blue and
pant on the moon
with lust
——
Tag: writer
backmasking (20160930)
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
fifty (20160929)
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
——
little (20160928)
just a small thing
the way you turn you head
to catch a glimpse
unfinished (20160927)
let us leave
all other things
unfinished
figures emerging half-formed
from the stone
clay still marred by bumps
and fingerprints
brushstrokes broad and
uneven
nails sticking out of the wood
shoes untied
only let me tell you
about my love
and how it too is
unfinished
unpolished
unapologetic
willing to consume
anything and everything
that grows like a choking weed
between us
——
the shadow in the heat (20160926)
to say the heat is a dry heat
is not to say it isn’t hot
or that hell will not cook you
regardless of the humidity
but i guess hot and sticky
is worse than hot
still
even my shadow
sweats
in the shade
——
trumpet (20160925)
like harold hill with his baton
in his hand
[get your mind out of the gutter]
waiting on magic he doesn’t believe in
it took someone else to blow the
trombone [seriously, gutter mind]
to open his eyes
it was easy to watch those pastel
musicals and think love was a
recursive function
that called itself without end
but sometimes you have to put up
with the pbs station pledge drive
before you can get back to
robert preston and shirley jones
and the magical costume changes
in the last five minutes
and you can hear the great creatore
and the recursive functions runs
and runs
and blows a trumpet like gabriel
with wings on fire
repulsive madness (20160924)
bitter and languid
let whispers wax
elaborate on my screams
repulsive madness heaves us
about and my skin aches
——
for Specks and Fragments
(aka the Elusive Trope)
Magnetic Poetry Saturday Challenge
the taste of failure (20160923)
i’ll tell you what failure
tastes like
tastes like needles
tastes like need
tastes like less
tastes like a fucking mirror
chewed up over a lifetime
tastes like glass
tastes like cold silver
welling up behind your tongue
tastes like every dream
you ever had
tastes like every nightmare
you ever had
tastes like staring
into the other lane of traffic
tastes like that shadow
in the corner of the room
tastes like a mouth
full of blood
equinox (20160922)
i have given you
half of my life
i wish for you to
have the remainder
we will listen to wind
chimes in the breeze
watch lizards scurry
across sun-warmed stones
we will find shade
and we will have our peace
Words and Feathers 