All of us
buried deep
in our private little worlds
so sure that
something
is bound
to give.
Monthly Archives: October 2019
alone and warm and aware
The sun is warm on my face
grey shadow upon wood grain
stuck somewhere between
sympathy and harmony
with the universe
and where a headache should be
there is none
and where a heart should be
there is stone
and where I should be
there is shadow
alone and warm and aware
cast too across wood grain with
the closing doors of another work shift.
and CHEERS
Like a knife
slides
warm through butter
so gently does her hand
into mine
telling me all
I need to know
about her character
and it takes all my courage
not to melt
with the toast
she proceeds to deliver
glasses raised
and CHEERS
go our spirits
together
down the hatch
spread eagle
she’s tolerant
thin
and warm
irresistibly open
like a wound
gapes
breathing in
and out
then in then out
we go
through the empty streets
at dawn
searching, always searching
for the next.
3:08
3:08
and I’m happy.
Not the smiling sort of
tell-all happy but
the breathing in the moonlight
kind of easiness,
just being, barely conscious
and willing to be free.
And
it’s 3:12 now
and shit,
you know how it goes.
a clear blue morning
flesh
against
flesh
against
flesh
against
flesh
against
sheets
pulled over
a clear blue
morning.
God and the Devil
Lightening strikes
then
Thunder rolls in
They’re bowling you know
up there in Heaven
— God and the Devil —
Hell I’ll be damned
when God rolls a strike
the Devil chimes in
Bravo, he shouts
dances and spins
now a Turkey I’ll roll
but wait just then
as God bites his lip
his fingers hidden
a Turkey?
How bout, a soul
my friend.
They had me at goodbye.
They had me at goodbye
as they always seemed to die
slow like a rose
one day jubilant and alive
then like sleep goes the week
and it’s noticed that the rose
has died. But see, I kept them there
all wilted and decayed
brown and crumpled I’d debate
taking them to the trash
throwing them away, though
a rose in its youth is beautiful
so too is a rose left to dry.
So I pressed them between pages
and drew a pretty picture
poured ink from my memory
so that even in death
they’d remain
alive.
a caged artist
I never met an artist I didn’t like
I just tasted their breathe
from an arms length away
and
when they told me drunkenly
to go to hell
at least I knew they meant it
so while she tore off her clothes
like a caged animal
in the center of a Williamsburg high-rise
a slave to her own bizarre fashion
I could see it there, her passion
exhibited like a gallery of fine art
and her hair
painted in oils hyper-realistic
she would drive herself wild
though couldn’t quite blend her canvas
into the madness she became
hysterical so
closing the cage I left
knowing
there wasn’t more I could do
than allow her the respect and dignity
to clean up her own mess.
season of change
Never had a bad intention
I just always made some bad decisions
that usually got way out of hand
and discredited my good intent
though looking a bit harder now
I guess I was just angry and confused
and figuring it out the best I knew how
given time, place, and circumstance
I mean I was just 16 then 19 — 23 then 25
now 31 doesn’t feel so old, in fact
I feel much younger than my former self
ready to dive back into that season of change.
Kyle’s Camel
Kyle’s
Camel
cigarette
smoke
lingers in the air
creeping in my window
wishing me to dare
take another drag
see what you’ve been missing
though if I did decide
to have another kissing
I’d like to think
it would be mid winter
jangling down the streets
of New York City banter
admiring sleepy windows
with a stranger I barely know
after leaving the Wreck Room
now long since closed
and wondering if she feels
the same way I do
taking a long hot drag
while
trying to seem cool
knowing nothing about her
yet desperately wanting to
and they would taste like Brooklyn
they would be Pall Mall Menthol
crisp and clear and clean
like ice on the verge of thaw
we’d be cracking up.
Words Of An Average White Male 