I’ve tried on many different skins
and ended up in this one,
stretched at the waist
twisted and torn
ready and willingly
back for more, more, and more
staples and stitches
dimples for dimes
tenderly oiling this rawhide of mine.
Home » Posts tagged 'prose' (Page 75)
Tag Archives: prose
Alvaro my friend
Alvaro
my friend
you left too soon
but what about
today
has me
thinking of you
is it Jimmies guitar
or my faded tattoo
perhaps it’s the night
as I howl at the moon.
Alvaro
my friend
you left too soon
and I never
got the chance
to say
thank-you
for all the nights
you offered your friendship
wanting nothing more
than good conversation.
Alvaro
my friend
you left too soon
but your spirit
it seems
continues to bloom
within my soul
like divine intervention
so my life is yours
solely by extension.
Which brings me
now
to think of you
how if you were here
you’d tell me to
let go this dirge
and create something new
Alvaro
my friend
we’ve got work to do.
swimming circles
like a goldfish in their bowl
you don’t ever get to leave
staying where they keep you
what a pity or relief?
hell I don’t know the difference
between seeing and belief
but that fishbowl you’ve been swimming
looks far too small for me.
so if you’ve thought what I am saying
half a dozen times
your chances of remembering
are just as good as mine.
like a goldfish in their bowl
I don’t ever get to leave
still I keep on swimming circles
headed for the sea.
when the earth quakes
When the earth quakes
I learned the other day
that people become
very much equal
looking for a doorway
and having no clue
what to do next.
Better
We’re going to make this better,
for whatever that may mean.
Alone — Separate — Together
Better has many names.
July 4th 2019
July 4th 2019
in a room
with the morning
by my bedside
waking to the light
of emptiness,
looking
west.
on the mountaintop
We spoke a lot out there about how different folks live their lives,
about the idea of success and what it really means to feel comfortable in circumstance,
about family and virtue,
giving back and taking more consciously.
We say the things up there
on the mountaintop,
which are hard to say among the crowds and noise of the working world’s downturned head,
but no less we come back down renewed.
Bohemian Blue
Scott wouldn’t let me leave
he said
where do you have to go?
Stay, have another
we’re your friends you know.
How much cash you got?
That’s it, no more
21 dollars even
and thanks for being here.
I keep wondering
I keep wondering
whether it’s
right or wrong
but I keep coming back to
the fact that
it is what it is
and that’s it?
That’s it,
I keep wondering.
we shot to kill
It sucks
it’s burnt
it’s hard to swallow.
I chew the fat
then choke down
bile.
For now
mouthfuls
of blood and oil.
As I spit flesh
it stinks
of sorrow.
A few more bites
just choke
and swallow.
For what it’s worth
we shot to kill
and did.
Words Of An Average White Male 