“laureate”
i believe
a ghost to be hiding
in the chinese lantern
folded and cold in my hall closet.
i hear it laughing,now and again,
when i walk by.
it happens, more often than not,
when the moon has been drinking
and i’m full & unencumbered by clouds.
i wonder if he’s a poet.
this place could really use one.
4.19.21
over coffee, she asked,
“what are your plans for today?”
i’m gonna try not to bleed.
it happens more often than you think.
not always of the flesh,
or out in the open,
but it gets messy
and hard to clean up.
i’m not ashamed,
nor proud.
it’s just who i am now.
five years and counting.
“not sure. just gonna wing it,”
i reply,...
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a concerto,
staccato and abstruse,
punctuated
with moments of upheaval,
quilted the evening sky.
rain was coming,
but you’d never know;
their voices were just
too damn happy.
i stood there
listening, spellbound, transfixed -
a leper fingering his scabs -
until one decided he had
better things to do...
and then another, and another,
and then silence, a car horn, a neglected dog.
dinner...
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among the trees
bristling with murder,
i stand, like nimrod,
ineffectual and thick.
but that’s where comparisons
end.
i have no want for heaven,
no use for temperamental cranks.
like whitman, i worship the spread
of the great...me!
and them, nattering
in the branches
about my big feet and smelly hat.
that’s all the liturgy i need.
2.22.21
when ironing
your best work shirt naked,
it’s best not
to let your mind wander
to jennifer lawrence in her altogether.
doing so could give rise
to a whole new meaning of the term
red-hot poker.
2.18.21
“down in the quarter”
tuba’s booming bass line,
greasy baritone,
i gotta second-line shuffle
rattlin’ deep in my bone!
i wanna dance down bourbon
with my saucy voodoo queen --
a sexy lady named suzy
who’s a devilish little thing.
we can take the party to the river,
throw our troubles right in,
and dance beneath a yellow moon
in nothin’ but our skin,
and...
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#1
silly sideways grin -
look at you there, drunk again -
not sharing your wine.
#2
naught but a sliver
hiding behind winter clouds -
it’s your turn to count.
#3
and now, you’re not there.
or is it me who’s missing?
someone closed a door.
the sky was broken,
bruised, and heavy...
the simplicity of a storm
is amazing...
alive, it crawled,
it whispered, it screamed...
a darkness wanting carnage,
metal, bone...
a darkness trapped,
unwanted in shadow...
a darkness not seen
in mirrors...
the simplicity of a storm
is amazing.
tonight,
amid a chorus
of winter frogs,
i want to get drunk
on moonstone wine
and go skinny-dipping
in your soul
“a moment, a memory”
i really like that picture
of us on the deck of that little
place in north carolina.
well, i like the picture of you;
you look mischievous and prurient,
and i, well, i look like i look.
we drank heavily soon after
it was snapped,
and fucked in a stranger’s bed.
we should make a habit of that.
i really like...
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