Posts tagged ‘thoughts’

November 18, 2015

talk of reason

peering out of
an open
screen window,
there are wet cars
and pavement,
there are trees
and stairways,
and what does
it mean?

she says over the phone
everything happens
for a reason,
and today is
sort of part
of that.

it was an
email, an animated
interview, an
acceptance confirmed,
and then a wait for

and then another email.

someone wants
to meet you,
my handlers said,
so what do you do?

you walk up and meet them.
you tell them about you.

she said over the phone that
things happen for a reason,
as those sharp butterflies
in the stomach,
as rigid daily routine.

now here i sit
half a view seeing
it all, half a mind
for breakfast and
nausea, half awake
and sitting in half
a morning gone.

everything happens for a reason.
the reason is: I don’t know…

i am certain it will though.
i am not sure how long.

November 14, 2015

Three Colors with One (of Paris)

There is solidarity abroad
while a nation is divided.
There is difference assigned,
as senseless tragedies occur.

There are three colors shown
with pictures of broken glass.
There are groups crossing lines
with lists & scores outdated.

There is talk of how and why
and who and what, unknown.
There is confusion on screens
and some parts of the whole.

And we really wonder about us.
And we really wonder who that is.

October 30, 2015

Proof of an Afterlife

It’s hard to believe in an afterlife.
You lose a lot of people close to you
and October mornings seem colder.
Things appear more apart,
even shoelaces have to cross lines.
I think at least half of me died,
while the other part doesn’t mind…

Ben Franklin and his buddy had a pact
where whoever died first would
come back and say a code word,
like “rosewood”
or “cheery tree”
or I don’t know. Google it…
And they would just know there
was an afterlife—it never happened…

I think if I die the only proof of afterlife
will come in this form: I will come back
as a ghost at 3 in the morning
and raid all of the leftovers
in my mother’s fridge.
It will be loud and unmistakable, this proof.
And then I will be gone forever,
off to a hard sleep. And the very next day
when asked about it, all concerned,
I will bold face lie. There’s your proof.

October 26, 2015

where to go?

wondering as an adult
the meaning
of money of property
of pomp of present
why we try so hard
wasting our time
in-doors at desks
to be put into
a box within the earth
as if we hardly noticed
the outside
air and how it was sweet
how eyes hurt at the sun
if only to be there
and take it rather
than away and not,
to be what a part you were
of something
the kettle bubbles
the radio barks
the morning begins
where to go?

October 23, 2015

Modern Eulogy

Now if you die
the newspaper will proudly display
the worst selfie that
you ever took in your whole life
on its front page,

next to big bold print
and bullshit ads and sports team’s
manufactured importance,
and then there is you…

How sad.

This image is
the only photograph of you
that they could find
on your social media page—facebook fame,
quick, fast, now,
through a Google search of your name.

This is the best they could do
for the article, for the paper—for you,

just by going
on the news of your death
and your name,
to your unique page.

I grab the limp paper now
and wonder,
does the family even know?

I wish I had coffee,
I wish other more realistic
less bias things
made the news…

Hillary Clinton goes to jail,
perhaps? But who is she
to me anyway?

No one…

See, I don’t care…
I am worried about my selfie,
my image, my name:
What they will show when I die
on the front page!

This is what life has come to.
I think it costs about $1.00 …

October 10, 2015


it’s 8:45 in the morning
i lie there, still,
in bed as our
cat claws the sides
of the mattress
to bare insides.
my love walks
nude in oils
and a black
loosely hung robe
between doors
and mirrors.
her understanding
affords daybreak’s
and then we roll in
the painted sheets–
moment’s ecstasy.
and then
the day went.
again alone i lie.

October 5, 2015

New Cadence Apparatus

Dear New Cadence Apparatus,

you move me with your moving;

the artistry of your performance,

to my mind, is wholly consuming.

October 1, 2015

contrived conventions

we are stuck in our phones
and stuck in our beds
sipping deep on dark coffee
just somewhere between

portions of the morning
allotted fully at random
tendency of our nature
going full bloom in the room

a kitchen of classics
the radio sounds a play
in one aspect for the present
mostly charted on days

now dry from the shower
then clothes from the drawer
to steaming pot towel hold
into the french press poured

we are humans not being
without contrived conventions;
the preference, shades,
and pronouns obscure

we are humans not being
couldn’t hold occupied hands;
the mirror doesn’t stand
my selfie will last forever

couldn’t walk for milk unchecking
couldn’t live from that notification

September 14, 2015

uptown shine

exactly knowing & accurate
judgement are as frequent
as authenticity in the bar
lights & sidewalks of uptown.

September 11, 2015

a passing thought – neurotic

sick with the taste of
exhaustion, caught in throat
with cold wind, radio barking,
pizza sitting, how legs tire,
how body aches–so sore,
tender, cutting, sharpness;
stomach in knots; hours
of night, pushing pillows,
sweating, drooling, shake;
waking, wanting it to go,
tiresome day, morning lows;
semester’s triumphs & wows;
the hue is darker in autumn–
daily highs, found here
in bed dying; living, life,
nose bleed caught in tissue,
she asks, I tell; can’t talk,
doing nothing but packing,
leave on the next day–if i can,
feeling as my co-worker
with a pain in her side: wary;
will they remove it, or am
i just paranoid at a thought?
these remedies come fast,
vile seeds sewn and growing;
if only to fix my fretting mind.


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