Some Poetry

Some Poetry

I wrote you some poems. I'll keep them here for you.

All writing contained in this blog is my own original work unless otherwise stated.

Copyright © 2012 - 2014

lockhorne said: What about Gliese 581g? That was discovered a while ago, no?

You’ll have to ask the columnist, man.  I’m just the cynic.  

Scientists discover Keplar-186f - The first Earth-sized planet orbiting in the habitual zone of a star prompting big questions -
Are we truly alone in the universe?
That som’bitch got any oil?

—Partly the news, Partly me.  

Dancin Shoes

A salute to weathered politicing –
He was a hold-out proponent of the flat-earth-movement
Shoes shined like a penny
Worth about as much
He had worn holes through them and every argument
Dancing around every point practicing
A now-ya-see-me
Sort of routine
Never settled on a partner
More like victims
A dancehall Jack the Ripper,
Suckers for big words in the right order,
Too oblivious to the ruse to know
That’s not even how you wear a necktie
But damn -
That necktie
Red to command power and
If he needed it so bad
Who are they to criticize
Or question
The misdirection
Left-hand-leading with
Closer for a kiss,
Either dodged or missed but
Either an identical
End result
Blue-faced litany
Arguments not even he believes but
If he held them inside he might find himself
Inflated entirely with bullshit
Begging to burst
All over those
Dancing shoes

Pulled the pennies from the well
Well-wishers’ wishes melted
Poured into a form
Sculpted you an effigy
In someone else’s dreams
Someone else’s desires
Boiled over a fire and
Polished into a mirror where
You can more easily see yourself
Turning green with age,
Succumbing to decay
Holding motionless in hopes of
I am not sure


a quilt of all the things you wish you’d never said
sleep with it every night

How can a blanket so thick let me feel so cold? 

She hisses at me with accusations that make me realize exactly how wrong I am -
I cannot find the wrong in the faults she throws my way and that,
I have come to understand
Is my biggest wrong
Her face is red and her mouth doesn’t open nearly wide enough to let the anger out at once
But she’s trying -
Fire hose fire hydrant fire suppression system
Fire all around me,
More fire all around me
She tells me my problem – Problem – In the singular
Although it is something like the twentieth Problem she has identified
And I’m still stuck on the one
Still finding no wrong
And every other word she speaks or screams is masked by a pulse ever increasing with blood pressure and
I am not mad,
I am only confused,
And that’s my problem -
And that’s my problem -
And I never understood why everyone has to have a fucking problem
And why we can’t just be crooked teeth in the same ugly, cogged machine
Interlocking together for better leverage
Small things turning bigger things turning into bigger things and
Everything was a machine -
She said
Needing to be fixed -
(in the absence of problem)
And maybe that -
That was my fucking problem all along
Always wanting to fix things and
I want to want to tell her
Her problem
Her fucking problem of always wanting
To just throw the broken things away
To the wind at the first sign of fray
We’re the same ugly cogs
In the same ugly machine
We’re grinding ourselves down and
It is really
Becoming a problem

Two Weeks Unnoticed

It is nine-forty-six and the phone rings. You open your eyes and know it is way too bright, and you’re way too well rested for a Wednesday morning -
The caller ID reads two words. A first and a last name. Both of which make you cringe.

You answer without the fog of an individual just waking from a vivid dream -
Although you are an individual waking from a vivid dream -

”Hello, First Name.” A salutation befitting a stranger.

”I’m just making sure we’re looking at the same day on the calendar.” A voice returns – inquisitive

“Oh, yes. I slept through my alarms, I guess. I am just waking up.
So I’ve not looked at mine yet. But I’m sure we’re looking at the same one.” Your voice lacks any of the urgency the inquisitive party so clearly expected. Your tone is factual. You are giving a report.

”So, you are planning on being in today?” Ever inquisitive.

”I am. Yes.” Ever factual.

Ever even.

Mutual goodbyes.

Water to wine
Learned to turn
Whiskey to blood;
To problem

My dog is the only living thing I’ve ever chased with a sock
Or with a pair of socks
We’re both pretty good at play fighting
Sometimes he forgets I’m not really mad and
Sometimes I forget he doesn’t really want to tear my throat out
We have one-sided conversations where we take turns being the one side
We each make increasingly strange noises and
Give each other increasingly weird looks

Spring cleaning.

As I near my 1000th post (please contain your orgasms) - I am planning some cleaning.  Removal of all non-poetry things and other people’s poetry things from my blog.  It’s not that I don’t love you all.  It’s that I love you all.

This way, once I reach 1000, I’ll know they were all poems.  Mine.  And all for you lovely/ugly/sexy/people/people.  

This is just the way it has to be - 
Nothing beautiful should come easily and this
Did not come easily
Will never come easily this - 
Is what happens when an unstoppable force
Meets an immovable object
And they fuck each other


I am empty and I have never been
More ready to be filled,
A product, of course
Of what I eat -
Sugar-laden empty
Swayed and for sale
Swinging from my heartstrings
Finely orchestrated
With me

The memories make their homes in between the notes
Between the beats, the chords, the straining voices, the cymbal crashes
Someone is wailing one thing while my mind is screeching another
The conversation fizzles into white noise the color of a moment - 
And as I hear each note for the first, the second, the thousandth time
My surroundings of every form imprint themselves upon the music
The music which never leaves my head,
The verses and choruses still reeking of pain,
Still dripping with joy
Buried under a year, two
I still see your eyes at track ten
It has a name but it was always track ten
And while you return to a spinning, growing, decomposing world
While the worms chew their way through your beautiful eyes and into depths of your mind no drug ever allowed you to reach
I will be staring through ice blue
With track ten
I get chills at twelve
I get angry at thirteen
And am never awake for the hidden track

You ruined as many songs as you made wonderful

Spring shakes the final fibers of winter from its fur
Grasping at the tips of each of its hairs,
And the sun has finally agreed
To stop sleeping in -
We’re making promises to ourselves
Or to each other
It is getting harder and harder to make the distinction
And I would have noticed this sooner
But I haven’t even been trying for at least a few weeks now
We’re blending into each other
Making beautiful swirling patterns on the floor
While we roll around and through each other
Permeate each other
Oceans and setting suns in alternating
Hots and colds,
Forwards and backwards,
Strengths and
Weaker forms of strength
It was dancing
Then it was making love
Now it is a survival struggle between two drowning victims
But where each wants to be the first
To sink
Once standing upon a ledge
Overlooking an endless,
Reflecting a purple sky
And we jumped
Just to watch it crack
To feel our feet,
Our fists –
Damn the whole thing for tempting us
The sky -
And carried into the current
Away from us -
Gravity-defeated people
We reveled in the waves,
Knowing this is the truest form
Of flight

It’s Not Fair I Get To Hug You When I’m Sad


i press my face against a cold mirror and imagine it’s snow
and i am 10 years old and i am doing this because i saw a cartoon
where a big fluffy dog came with a small barrel rope-tied around its neck
and helped the freezing kid after the avalanche
and i love the dog more than i fear the avalanche

i am proud of myself for still expecting things to be fair sometimes;
the old woman who says the first reading at mass at st. mary’s in my hometown
drives a toyota camry and the entire car except the front seat is full
of trashbags of clothes and tupperware containers and pilled blankets
and unique yardsale lamps 
all pressed against the windows as if sealed into a plastic bag

i can’t tell if it’s because she lives in her car or because she’s a hoarder
and her whole house looks like that but either way
she’s hunch-backed and smiles every time i pass her pew after communion
and it’s too many things and i just need to close my eyes for a second
i just need to breathe for a second

an asshole football player from my high school sat in the back
of our history class once staring blankly at the wall 
behind the teacher’s head
i asked what was wrong and he said

'he doesn't recognize me anymore. i went to visit and he didn't know
who i was. he wanted me to leave i think.’
forget what i said before i want to be a professional hand-holder instead
i will hold his hand as he watches his grandfather try to remember his name
and he wants to, you can see it in the severe curve in his brow
but he can’t because that’s what this disease does
it eats your brain, it makes memory an ocean and you are
thrashing uselessly under the waves convinced
you should be okay no matter how deep or violent or black the water
because you learned to swim years ago 
but sometimes it doesn’t matter how well you can swim
the ocean is a beast and Alzheimer’s is a beast
and it won’t stop gnashing it’s teeth

i am awake and it is 5:37 am and i am thinking about it all at once
i need to sit very still or call you
but you’re asleep thank God
i know you think about these things too but i wish you didn’t 
i want to swallow all the terrible gray things whole
and you will never have to see them
and you will never have to hear the teeth