Wednesday, July 27, 2011

dead crow

found a dead crow in West Point, Mississippi
lying on the side of a building,
a dirty dark alley
lit in sunlight

'died of West Nile virus' an old black man
limped up to me saying, 'isn't it curious
how large the world looks to us and how
small the world looks to a bird?

it can travel at will from one side of the
globe to the other, while we stay stuck
in the mud in small towns because we
are afraid to break free and find
the answers'


i think it's curious that we feel the
same way about death - fearing answers -
i thought, well at least now
the crow knows all the answers, while
the old black man and i will just be
sick and asking questions.


Corner Office in Hell

A friend died.
She was beautiful
with hair long like
yours used to be, mother.
She was like you. Lost. Misled.
Forgotten. Confused. So was i.

i found my way.
My will pushed me
through. You both died
the same year. On the same
day - the first. As much sadness
i feel, i feel more anger. Because

i could have chosen
to be weak. Like the both
of you. But i kept fighting.
Even through the bad times. Like
the messages on the phone that you
both were dead while i kept going. If

you think in hell
i'm going to hug and
forgive you. wrong. i've
been angry a long fucking time
so don't think the suffering of hell
is going to change it. My suite is on

the executive floor
there, and this mother-
fucker will be sitting in
that corner office waiting
to fuck you both up for eternity.


Bad Cat

Had it all, but it wasn't what i wanted.
i left my job with the Air Force to take
a job as a clapper in a mariachi band,
because i could really keep time.

Which isn't what i did with my first
wife so i left her for my second,
third, fourth and fifth to plead
silence on the truth of walking out

on my family on Christmas Eve.
Because i knew that fat-fuck
wouldn't be coming down our chimney
because i left our

smiles flying in the clouds to evaporate

under the hot son.
Who will come for me
one day and take my life
for what i did to him, his mother and his cat.

The bitch.
All she did was whine and eat,
and the cat wasn't nice either.


Advice to a Cheating Young Married Woman

trust is tough, no one wants
to give it and nothing is harder to earn.

binding her hands to the posts on the bed

nothing can weigh heavier over
a relationship than trust.

from parent to child,
friends and lovers,
brother and sister.

the blindfold pulled against her eyes tight.
she could hear the door open and voices whisper.

the higher the degree
of trust
it will build up
the magic
of the relationship,
taking it to levels
never imagined
and emotions that are explosive.

she could feel their breath between her legs.
ready to experience her own personal explosion.

imagine what God must have felt
trusting that man would do what they did to his son.
imagine that knowledge and control.

power like the flood she was feeling now.
muscles twitching and aching spasms.
filling the room with screams.
until her control returns.
with eyes watering she orders them both out.

"for the love of God"
trust can be reached on levels both known
and unknown,
and desires that are shown
and torn to the surface.

she lays naked on the bed
wondering what the hell she got herself into.
as I ask her
if she's ready for me.


Hen Eggs

She stood before me
that cackle rising to
bleeding decibel levels,
in that instant my hands acted
on their own
proceeding to crack
the egg that had
encased my madness
for the last few months

Aborted yoke runs through my fingers
a stream of consciousness
that had been shattered years before.
That little red head that i took
in the back of a
piece-of-shit car
to only find out that the fetus
had not been mine but,
i footed the bill
to be thanked later
by drunk laughter
through a pay phone,
a fucking pay phone,
she fed me with her
obnoxious high pitch laugh
that cackle that cunt
slumped over in front of me
lifeless in soft-boiled pools
of my angry memories
congeal together

somewhere below
my praying arms
covered by sticky hair
matting memories
that never wash away,
just sizzle inside my head
forever with that
goddamn laughter
a radio station that just
refuses to die
despite the poor signal.

The cackle of static
drags on forever.


Tuesday, July 12, 2011

The Street

the street gives
beneath my long strides
under a cloud cluttered
sky, painted blue and white,
with froth and frost
and i know
somewhere you
are under this sky and my
pain returns
while the street gives
a steady pace of reality
that no matter how many
vodka tonics i swallow
and sad songs i listen to
and dollars i give to
those promising to
take away the memory
you’ll be there
mocking each step as
the street keeps giving
and my legs keep moving
and the past remains
behind me, so far away
like i wish
the sky would fade
and the street would
travel to that place
without  the horizons
of you


Trip Me

i stumbled hard yesterday
crashing as my hand
found the drawer in the house
holding my relief in
the guise of a white pill.
long before but
under a different
a doctor
told me at 16
if you don't stop
you'll be dead by 20
so i changed from Vicks and Crown
to Vicodin and Goose,
and with luck
my new stabilizing-solution
solved the
equation if only
temporary, but avoiding
the problem itself
instead appearing suddenly
again, to ask why
i continue to
slip and let myself
do nothing but
find more excuses
as my
intestines rot
and lose their
ability to control themselves,
much like their owner
whose means
grew along with his needs
he crashed on the ice,
cracking his
skull and with forced intervention
imprinting a desire
to control his passion.
until yesterday.
when for no real reason
i was left
like a toddler without an excuse
of why i did it.
i just knew that i did
and wished that
someone had tripped me
instead of
me falling on my own.