Foggy covetous invalids,
leant on glistening balustrades,
with gossamer hangings; bent
blades of grass, enacting a fool’s
calypso in cover of darkness, at
that exact moment, for all gleaming
eyes to witness, as winds stirred
through an open door below.
Foggy covetous invalids,
Once when I was in community college
I took a class called “Eco-Feminism”.
I was one of four guys.
I was not a majority by numbers,
That is a fact, no lie.
Each day our teacher spoke of monsters,
She said they used and abused women and the land;
They would take take take take take take take take,
To attain everything the women and the land had.
These monsters never slept,
They were pale,
They were exacting,
They were mean.
They lived in mansions at the top of the world fixed with panoptic eyes.
She said these monsters were real, they were white, European, and sly.
I never resented a day in that class,
But sometimes I felt singled-out, and tried.
I learned how to label people right,
Though those people resembled me physically-
They were not like I.
If I were
Made in the likeness
We leave this life as flit of butterfly
When we endure beyond our purpose;
Aloof words come by which materialize,
We are left stoical, still, and wordless.
One is made pragmatic by experience;
A grave man
Speaks grave words
Of which the living cannot hear.
I would not spend $50,000 to buy shit.
Old-time orthodox tradition;
If fish didn’t kill themselves
By swimming out of water
We wouldn’t have cellphones.
Relative relations wouldn’t spring so fast on advantage.
Men wouldn’t stand on two legs,
Or breathe the thin air.
Or Fuck or Fight,
Or even care.
What is art for?
Based on rhymes,
Behind closed doors.
And then they tell us to read:
Edgar Allan Poe,
Where “Lawyer” isn’t even a Word…
-Small town folk,
With small town ideals.
Maybe I’m joking,
Maybe I’m ForRealz.
Because I am
Cut from the same cloth.
Then they tell us to fit in this:
I was merely stuck in a book,
You merely read some words.
If things weren’t going for me
I’d probably too act on urge.
Now, how does one do the first part again?
Even the morning seems acutely somber
Broad clouded skies hold steady longer
Green leaves thick ripped from their place
Void departed relatives we save nigh space
Juxtapose this deep cutting- chilled contrast
Waiting for summer’s waning neb to fast pass
Vexed by cruel and unrelenting, stiff nature
Fool-heartedly with their lives they wager
On a single day we wish to stay the same
On forcible winds we wish to have changed
Man can live amongst this time and watch,
As he winds the seasonable swift ticking clock.