Anxious flashbacks in the back of your Cadillac, with
The window half down to drown out the drones of
Mom’s mouth, ten years old and I’m anxious to
Fill what I lack, but now I’m dying alone in
The back of a stranger’s hatchback and I
Wonder, will God let a ****** through  
The gates? Because Mom said the
Chance of a *** getting into
That place was as good as a
Camel strolling thru the
Eye of needle, or  
Something like
That, I don’t
Remember
Really.
I do know that Aunt Ruth said I was a needle in a stack of hay, so
I can’t die this way, because God would never make a kid shine
Like truth just to burn out in the soft glow of the flame against
A spoon, that’s just logic. ‘Cuz God, I tried to tie a thread
To my spine and swan dive into the fabric of this Earth,
But all I got was a couches’ bruise, a pillow filled with
The feathers of a plucked bird with its tongue-tied
And words’ lynched, destined to haunt PSA’s and
Statistics, now I’m itching for a way to lay
Or place to sit to die with a sense of
Purpose, so I stretch my arms out
With my palms up like Jesus,
But the Police will see the
Lesions, a haunting
Image of celestial
Intent, But God
Will only see
The
Marks
From
The
Needle.

poisoned well of the antichrist littered with ground cover
picking out ****** flecks of gravel
blacktop kneeskin
patience pieces of scattered space time
to go back to the future of continuity
lack of genius ingenuity
and the suckling of the pig entourage

riding in a flat top hatchback
cadillac of the daily grind
upperclassman japan onii-chan
brother in arms from anotha motha
hug from afar colliding with crackpot theory

terrible fantasia cooling bricks in soggy sun
swallowed his pride with a glass of self-worth
and these ***** don't cook like they used to
I don't look like I used to
warped veil of camouflage chameleon leather
with a ****** level of automobile salesman

tried to get closer to god
ground him up, picked out the stems
twisted him into thin paper
touched flame to his finger tip and a son of Adam was born

gum shoe gaze
or the emptiness felt at the end of reasonable doubt
correctional text messaging system
sent from hoarse corpses
tenderly poignant in their ****** coffins

will think for food
cries from an outdated MENSA
over ***** and under-appreciated
siting on hunched shoulders to get a better look
to be a martian in a plain port

wharf warehouse whaling boat
red tide in a Shanghai *******
floodgates made of bitter premise
that last bit of purple yam
**** Okonkwo
Things Fall Apart fell apart due to faded highschool ambitions and bloodshot eyes
cruel like the shade of off-cerulean

champagne fizz tickles at the soft meat of his tarnished throat
and silver tongue
as the matchstick framework
so fragile in comparison
fizzles out on drenched sidewalk
while cigarette ash floats by
like gray gnats

Sleeping. A minute or two at a time. Mark. This guy hit somebody. Awake. Coat on. Front door out. A silver hatchback is parked blocking our driveway. Drivers Door opens. A man with dark hair gets out. Italian maybe. Takes three steps. Sees me. And at once without any acknowledgement beyond eyes meeting he is back in the car. And it's all you can do to stare at the rectangle of pressed aluminum. It's white characters on green. 638 UAR 638 UAR. And then his car is gone again but not before you glimpse the passenger side front quarter panel. What's left of it. Man he did a real smack. And then Still in Costco house shoes You listen to the scrape of his tires drive away and walk the outer line of the front fence along the line of cars parked in front of your house and up the front door of your rather dory sort of spry 84 year old neighbor. As you reach her front door You see it is open and only the glass screen door is shut. Think about rapping but reach for the doorbell instead. And there she is. Hi you say. A guy hit one of your cars out front. Four cars parked out front. two silver two redfish.   Well come in she says. You apologize for the house shoes. A dad don't. As you step inside you realize how close to Christmas it really is. Her entire house. Silver & red. Four women Sitting around The dining room table. Someone's car has been Hit 84 says. The murmurs at the table soon turn into realizations. And questions. Which car?  I don't know. He left. I just came here straightaway with the license plate. You realize you've been saying it aloud this whole time. 638 UAR. And now you and 5 bible studiers walk back outside.   It's the first car. A white silver one. Joy for not much damage but Enough to pray over.

This is what Dale Yeager- CEO "SERAPH -
The Problem Solving Company"
Says, There’s No Crime Here.
What do you think?

This man I want to help is my son’s father; we were many years out of touch with one another due to many reasons well beyond this situation; but it should be noted that this woman, the one in this, has had much to do with why he and I were not with one-other after 1991 and why the two of us are still not together today she’s also the reason he’s been out of touch with most of his family.
It’s in the later part of 2018 I found out about things which has have been going so wrong in his life. I have been in touch with his family but I always kept them off from talking of this man’s life to me; one day I was told of this man’s brake from his wonderfully close bonded family. They have learned recently his health has suddenly been doing quite poorly; one member even said they’re fearing this woman was setting to rid herself of him; I told them I’ve seen the Philly News about their boy, I didn’t think that boy did what was being said about him, not at all, and I’m going to look into it and see what I could find; and, this is what I found.
Within 5 years 6 months 19 days, from the day the words “I do” left this man’s mouth this woman has isolated him from most of his family and all of his friends, she places herself as his wife onto the deed of his house on March 12th.1993 a full 1 yr, 7 months, 16 days before their said wedding date; First thing being first is the actions and timing of the wedding; she tells his family to come on down, on October 28th.1994, for a big Halloween shindig?! Only once his family arrives they were then told one of the guest, a woman, was the mayor of their town and she’s to officiate on this day, it’s going to be their wedding day?! I looked up the Mayor of their town during that time and the mayor there was a man, a man who as of 2019 is still the mayor down there. His family was understandably perturbed, to say the least. not being told beforehand of it being a wedding as some hadn’t gone thinking it was nothing more than a Halloween gathering. This woman has had this man go through a chapter 7 in 18 and ½ months, a chapter 13 in just shy of 2 yrs, 2 months of that and then once again he’s gone right back into a chapter 7 in only 2 years 2 months, 17 days later??? She convinces this man to sign away his house, the home he has had built from blueprints, over to her first husband; her first husband who has by this time already been moved right into the house to live with them; Seven years afterwards this woman gets herself replaced onto the deed as an unmarried woman along with her first husband as an unmarried man who does all this 7 years, 10 months, 23 days to the day he took it away from Joe and without any financial considerations from her what so ever she’s on the deed as a single, unmarried, woman?!
How did a man with near $200,000, Bankable dollars who has had the ability to with straight-up with cash buying land and having his house built and having his very close family with his two brothers and a sister and so many loving friends, many of those held since grammar school, how could a man such as this man go from “I do” to having no body, no family, no friends, being $230,000 into debt and having to sign over the home he had built and having, now, to having to sign it over to her ex-husband all so you could have a roof kept over the heads of those you see as the only family you have left in this world. All of this has been done to this man, to a good man, all within 5 years 6 months 19 days; I also found even more way more deepening financial troubles down the road for him. I also found a fourth bankruptcy court case set in 2014 in Joe’s name for a foreclosure; a case on the house he no-longer even owns and he hasn’t owned one percent of it since May 11th. 1999?! How this could be done, is for the life of me, I do not understand??? At this point in time, this man is well over a half a million dollars in debt?!

In late September of 2019, I mailed him an Acknowledgment of Paternity form with the DNA testing office information to my son’s father so he could have all the test-work done. Then in November, I went down to see him after I had my book published; I gave him a copy; this is the first time I spoken to this man in decades. I wanted to tell him all that I learned about her and find-out what the hell was going on straight from him; but, I couldn’t. When I saw a medical-contraption strapped onto his chest, attached to his heart?! I just told him he needed to come home where he belongs. Joe said to me he had nothing to give to the boy?! I told him, I already knew that but I’ll be here to take care of him in any way he needs.
He said, he wouldn’t, he couldn’t;” I made bad choices.” He tells me, now, he could never leave from where he’s living no matter… his words,” No choice.” He seemed frightened. I couldn’t tell or question him i couldn't say anything further about anything knowing his health was so uncertain.
After his surgery, while he was still in recovery, we were talking on the phone with when he saw them coming down the hall; He said, “My family’s here and he hung-up. Time passed, he was out the hospital, I tried calling him but when I dialed his phone it said the number has been disconnected?!
On February 23, 2020, at 6:33 pm. there was a message I found which was sent on my face-book account it was sent this woman saying, “…happy he will be where he should have many years ago. It’s time he’s yours.”
I waited a while and asked a family member and I was told his phone number hasn’t changed?! Calling from a different phone he picks-up but as he hears my voice the phone went click.

Looking into his so-called wife’s actions, I seen markers of illegal activities far beyond those I thought I would. Beside his home this man’s name was attached to many homes not only in his town but on his block?!  It wasn’t as if he owned all of block 44 of his town nor has the paperwork to these lots make it into a true-file at their County Clerk’s office; one of the most important functions of a County Clerk’s office is the recording of all the legal documents associated with the properties and during the time his name was on his deed 22 files which were claimed filed but had no paperwork to show… whole files were missing from records and this wasn’t happening prior to his arrival to these town nor any time after signing away his house to her first husband?! I had also found this woman and her first husband have been living well beyond their means; they’ve been traveling on multiannual cruises together and they’ve even been paying for others to go traveling with them. The first husband himself is the owner of two rather large sized boats and both of them have been jetting-setting off on many out of town trips together all year long, leaving Joe to stay as the caretaker for her two children; this woman’s first husband is a. retired, Riker’s corrections officer and he’s not a man from a family of financial means?!

I started gathering the names of the others on these filings where Joe’s name appeared, I found they’re all of people living on that 44 block, all of them; and her first husband’s name was also in on this list 2 times, twice, before he was ever signed over onto this house, before and without, any file to show?! His name on 3/2/99 and 5/11/99; she had his house signed over her first husband on that day, Happy Mother’s Day?! Then, I looked up first husband’s name on the property and found a third empty file posted for a SUPERIOR MORTGAGE also being filed on 5/11/99

Those words after his surgery, “My family’s here…” was eating me up inside.

I see all this as well as knowing the idea of his needing to have even more surgery and knowing just what it took for her to get this man in the first place by September 23th. 2020 I was beyond the ability to say nothing anymore until his health was better; I called him up from my landline and told him just what she had tried to do back in 1991; how this female inside a little beige hatchback tried to run over my child and he calls her his family; I let him know just how much it was she who was interfering with our relationship back then; I knew she was right there hearing everything I was telling him, I didn’t give a care about it; But, I didn’t want to let her know everything I have learned about how it is that he’s not owning his house anymore. He told me he’ll be in touch with me… and we ended our call. On October 1,2020  while researching and printing out more information on just how I think this female ,Puttana, did what she did… I came across this new file in his name?! It was for a UCC1!? What? How could he be filing this without holding ownership on this house? I began looking into and watching files on this company; from that day ‘til after I hired Dale Yeager, there has been 23 files from this company for UCC1’s for block 44 alone and only four others within their whole township?! 23 out of 27 and 23 all from on the same block, nothing off about that and one of those names are of a man who’s not even a property owner and has not been one in 21 yrs.?! I did make a much wider search on this company itself but we’re only looking at this Joe’s block here and now. This company began showing files here for this whole town back in 2019 and to date they have filed only 40 files all together in this town and 30 of them are from block 44 and, FYI, only seven files were from before 10/01/2020 Dale Yeager says there is nothing off???
I also began seeing other things as well; I began seeing mortgage flipping going on here, where people were selling and buying their own homes over and over and then they’re paying off those 30 yr. mortgages within 5yrs and many of these even underneath a two years, on a 30 yr. mortgage?! And those people doing this were using the same clearinghouse?! All these are earmarks of money being funneled; this begins just after 1999 and there seems to be a line-up connection to these two’s traveling itinerary. But Dale at the end of his day says there’s nothing there; he wasn’t saying that when I first show these to him.
I hired Dale Yeager CEO of Seraph through bark.com, on April 10th. 2021 It was through an Email titled; It's about Husband-abuse. I gave him all my information and of what it is this investigation was about and I told him I was hiring him to help me to look into Lynn and her first husband; by this point I wasn’t sure if she even ever divorced herself from her first husband and she could have merely tricked everybody in his family as well and it wasn’t just him with that Halloween wedding. I sent Dale two different background checks for each of them; for Lynn, this woman, for,Kevin, her first husband, and for the one who is to believed to be second husband, Joe; … none of these shown marriages or divorcing information. I gave Dale all his family’s information so he could call them all to gather up what information he would need to help Joe; with a long list of everybody’s websites. I hadn’t much to give about the first husband other than his job, where he lived when she was known married to him and the year she married him.  I did have and I gave Dale all of Lynn’s information for where she lived before, It was a complete background back to her grammar school days when she lived on 65th. Street and all her brothers and sister information, I knew her and her family growing up. I was only vague about what I knew on her husband Kevin’s.

When I received Dale’s first report, it was wrong; it was on some man with Joe’s middle name and his last name, it’s not on the first husband’s name at all?! I told Dale the name on this report is wrong and Dale told me that I was wrong??? We argued about this but then Dale says to me it must be an AKA the first husband was using and just push through the questionnaire and it will make sense as the investigation moves along; the second report was on her and even this report had not made any sense to me at all; it was saying that information I know to be positively true was fraudulent; and again Dale tells me I’m not correct and that all his information was checked and was accurate information; his words,”… we have direct access to the records so we can have verified data for you!” I should just get through the questionnaire and it’ll become clear! It was clear to me this man kind of an ***… I grew up knowing about this girl and her family; her parents were friends with my mother and I’ve been inside their house on 65st. as a kid?!  Dale tells me I’m wrong??? And now he’s saying to take info I find and put them into these grid-sheets? It’s busy-work. I asked him again about the first husband’s name not being in the reports. I knew, once I hired an investigator time wouldn’t be on my side because it’ll known fast; I’ve been being monitored ever since my book’s been out and sent Joe those Paternity papers. I had to get the work done fast or they’ll cover their tracks. It’s been eleven days and all I needed most from Dale is of her marital status-proof with these two men everything else of illegal activities I’ve given to Dale in those three full mailers I sent are anywhere near as important?!
I wrote to Dale later that night, I just found out that Lynn and Kevin just returned back from another trip down to Florida, why they or anyone our age would go down there during Spring-Break is anyone’s guess; It worries me to think the kind of danger Joe is in right now... they both have and given Joe Covid; all three have went into hospital?! Joe was sent home as I’ve been told, Lynn maybe back home as of the time I’m writing you this, Dale but as far as for Kevin he was being placed into a room; At least Joe was able to go back home right away with it being a mild case but I would think this will put off his needed surgery for a while. I do hope Kevin makes a full recovery; I’d prefer him in jail than in hell for what the two of them have done to Joe.

On May 8th.6:40pm. Kevin’s dead, he died tonight; this is what I Emailed Dale.
Next morning Dale sends to me, ‘Thank you for this update.’ As cold, as silence itself.
This man is dead and… ‘Thank you for this update.’
I started working harder to gain as much information as I could gather; I fear, now, with Kevin's death Lynn's going to turn all her sights back towards Joe telling him, he's her husband: and, he has a duty to be there for her... by her side.
With Joe not knowing what we’ve been learning about who knows… Now, she's alone, who knows what is going on inside her mind.
I hope we can find and have everything we need very soon.

June 11th. I sent Dale an Email; Hello Dale I'm wondering what's going on with the files I sent you and the work on Kevin? Dale, are you seeing the same as I within those files I sent?  
The same day Dale wrote back…; Theresa; Yes, I am and the data was shared with the team. We are waiting for the financial accounts data. Dale
When next Dale and I spoke it was June 22nd. I sent the third box full of files completely fixed to him.
Email; Hello Dale; I sent you a package you should get it today; Please let me know when you get this; I fixed all the files in a mortgage, discharge, names of party and the block and lot numbers of property’s order. Hope they are useful for you.

Twelve hours later I get an Email; Theresa, I received the package and will review asap. Dale

Next thing I heard from Dale, Mon, Jul 5, 2021 11:15 am; Theresa good morning. Everything we could find and verify is in the last updated report we submitted. The next step is the POA. We will have that to you this week. Dale
This seems off?! The next time from Dale was Tue, Jul 13, 2021 3:00 pm Theresa; attached is the next update please review and email back your answers to our questions. Dale
Now, again Dale sends a report for the wrong person; a person who has my son’s father’s middle name and his last name?! This one also has her first husband’s name on it but Dale said he was sending a POA Report; what happened? At this point I don’t know what to think; I feel as if I’m being placed onto a treadmill?! I don’t have the ability to do this search on Kevin I can’t go any steps further then I already have... I gave Dale everything I could; and I told him this; He says ...Just to do it.
It has been since that night, September 23,2020, I last spoke with Joe; and it’s now been more than 8 months of continuously searching and working on this thing;  and during this I’m finding way more than I ever wanted to know about  what this poor man has had to endure during these past three decades; if only I were a stronger person back then before she got her hooks into him his life would have been so much different than all this...
But as for, Dale Yeager’s actions with this investigation; he has been with complete unprofessionalism, I think he’s a crook.

The sun hasn't risen yet
the black hatchback opens up on the Lee Bridge
in the rear view mirror the city shrinks minuscule
as I forge forward at a steady pace of fifty
No matter where My destination is
the reason is always the same
escape
like a thief in the night
trying to put some distance between me, myself, and I
daydreaming ceaselessly as traffic flows on every side
the front tire has a slow puncture
the door panel barely hanging on
in much need of an oil change
driving alone below the aspersions cast by unwanted eyes
as the rain slowly comes down to blind and cleanse
I never got to say half of the things I wanted
and I know that I won't write half of the words inside me
so I'm impatient
laying on the horn
and flipping old ladies on their way to church the bird
faces not seen enough to be memorized
hands not felt
laughter never shared
these things haunt me
holding their flickering candles to the bottom of my feet
Driven now
the sun hasn't come up yet
which is good
because before it does
I have some things that I need to do

Watch three seasons ninety times
addicted to vicarious emotion
Hooked
in the cheek
by the glowing screens
messages
Blurred vision
unfounded
and
logical
causalities
Digging precognitive predicted graves
bitten on the stomach
The little hatchback just crushed his legs
Snubnose finishes the job
Shave your head and you change
like Walt and Shane
Become
Addicted
to words and images
like me.

Burgundy, white, black, blue; all in a line.

SUV, 4-door, hatchback, minivan; waiting.

The sun beats down, the air blasts inside,
The calm before the storm-the building pregnant.

Suddenly they come. The students emerge from the womb
Into the outside world. We wait no more.

We pickup our little ones and take them home to be cherished.

There's gotta be something to all this
he says
he pleads
he reaches out for something concrete to mix his ideals in with
there's gotta be something to it
he says
well explain what it is to me.
it's like
I see the world before me
every place that ever was
ever will be
I see all of this
and all of the people -
silly little things bouncing around the galactic pin ball table
and it's like I'm waiting for the bonus round
I'm not following you
that's the problem
nail on the ******* head doc
nobody follows me
or maybe I don't follow them
they say Hello how are you doing
and all I hear is
sroeijfapoirjfpaiorjvpioserhvipshfvjipsrjvarjv[oisjgv[js[voijn­raoijoi[sjvijsr[jsr[i,vjsoirjvso[itjsoiernaudrv;jzdnfv;ndfvi;ondf­oibnsoinb Why ******* bother?
and I don't know why I bother
ya know, doc?
because I see myself in a cracked mirror
a really introspective, deep thinking, wordsmith of the people by the people for the people
here to wake people up, to put some ******* oomph in their step
then it changes
out of my left eye I see
the waste of space siphoning oxygen and turning it into ****
so **** yourself to make the world a better place, right? only I know that it's not right. When I am awake in bed at five am craving anything to shut my brain up I think of her, or the other ones, or my Mother and how much wasted potential it would be. Potential I don't have. Potential everybody tells me is there. Go to school. Move to san fran, or LA, or the big apple, flee. But I can't leave them.
Slow down son, you're rambling.
sorry doc, it's just the world moves at a set speed, and inside my head is a washing machine full of shoes and bricks on way too high a setting.
so why do you write?
because If I didn't this would all come out in much unhealthier ways. I have to stop myself from spearing the woman with her baby with my Hyundai accent hatchback 2011. I clench my fist so tight, that my fingernails cut my palm - If only I didn't bite them raw and ******.
Where do you think this all comes from, this feeling of anxiety?
where? what the **** kind of a question is that, doc?
just do your best
my best will never be good enough. Because the world is empty and void and full of people who would sell you as Joseph just for a technicolored dream coat.
That reference is so outdated, who is it for?
certainly not the people who like my work. I write poetry for a world that doesn't give a **** about poetry.
you don't really write poetry though, do you? You just rant and then hit enter to give the appearance of lines and stanzas.
You're right. I dropped out of school for this **** and all I can churn out is infantile angsty *******. I hate the people who practice self harm. It seems laughable to me. If you need help ask. If you want to die, Die. Nobody is stopping you. Then again, I want to save every kid who thinks they are ****** up or not worth it or hopeless. Maybe I read the catcher in the Rye one too many times. But Salinger had it right. He just locked himself away from the world so he could write.
I think we're about to run out of time
Doc, my time ran out a long while ago. My whole life has been spent running away from the last falling grain of sand
so the same time next week?
sure, doc, why the **** not, I mean you don't even really exist.
You are just the dead air when I'm at my most lonesome. This office - just my empty car, my bed in late and early hours and this patient is just another kid thinking he is the exception only to realize we're all being flushed down the same ****** toilet.
So yeah, same time next week I guess

And she ran
through the hollow peaceful night
a juxtaposition
to her mangled thoughts
and indecisions

She ran
hair un-brushed
the laces of her tattered Vans
untied
She ran bra-less
She did not give one ****

She ran to her mother's
old hatchback
away from men who longed to hold her
but didn't
from the abilities
that escaped her
diluted by the thick fog of apathy
that never lifted

And she drove through the dark
the radio dead silent
hearing only the crackles of
her own whimpering
Wondering
why God broke her so
Why the stars were misaligned

Through the windy roads that
would otherwise thrill her
but now

Until the bonnet
Passionately kissed the gum tree
POW

She was broke & had no folks.
He never says any funny jokes.
A drunk scavenging for junk.
I have a hatchback not a trunk.
A foul stench of funk.
Robbed by some punk.
A resort never reports escorts.
They don't dispute petitions in court.
A feud with people sued.
Abortions are fetal extortion.
A security guard trys to act all hard.
Civil service makes me nervous.
The summer could've been more funner.
Starstruck celebrity hype.
Articles magazines can type.
Gossip to thee extreme.
CELEBRITY schemes & scandals.
Misbehaved & manhandled.
Images & looks to copy & swipe.
Identities to wipe.
Fortune & Fame that is not yet ripe.

“...I have no time for the ignorance of others.”
said the fool
“I know what I’m doing. I can handle my own ****,
thank you very much.”
Said the marked man
“I’ve still got plenty of time to salvage this thing.”
said the wrongful optimist
“okay, smarty-******* - what would you do?”
Said the *******
“I do just fine on my own. Im better off.”
Said the man, too focused on not drowning
to see the land all around him
“I’m better than that guy, why should I have to wait?”
said the novice
“I just need some more time to practice.”
said the wary apprentice
“I just need some free time”
said Mr. Self-deception - Self-appeasement
“I just need to rest my eyes.”
said Mr. I’m going to pass out on this couch
“I love you.”
said the stepping razor
“I’m happy.”
said the drug addled hobo
“I didn’t know she had a boyfriend, I promise.”
said the teenager with a penchant for trouble,
as he stole smokes from his sleeping parents
“I need you to tell me how ******* incredible I am,
so I can tell you how wrong you are
with a real nice feeling in my gut
like a double shot of let it be”
said the silly little wannabe artist
“***** this place. **** all of these
over emotional teenagers
and **** this sanctuary
for circle jerking back patting”
said the sore loser
“Can I start you guys with something to drink?”
said the street corner beggar
as he looked for five dollars
to eclipse the gas light
of the speeding hatchback
“I wish you wouldn’t worry so much about me.”
said the skeleton covered in skin,
tendons,
sinews,
and strained muscles shaking from the nerves
“Want to go out tonight?”
said the bored future adult
running away from the sunset
“I just have no luck.”
said the guy who didn’t spend enough time
breaking walls and knuckles
in the basement of anonymity
“What do you have to say to that?”
Said Harry J. Baxter -
the smart-assed kid
in a 20 year old’s body
with an expensive pen
and dime store poetry
falling out the pockets
of his sagging pants
“What do you have to say?”
Said the empty blank pages
of the happily chaotic universe

Three cars are parked by the clearing
I find, every night under the faint light
of the dim street lamps. Two of them,
sedans, red and black, while the other's
a hatchback, white in colour. All dusty
and faded before the occasional wash.

The wheels of the white car have dug
into the mud after the puddles caused
by rains cleared. And flowers and twigs
garment it. I thought they were a big
family but, one, they own  a small car,
and two, they seem to use it sparse?

The red sedan, always parked reverse,
is sometimes gone suddenly away and
at other times, stays parked for weeks.
I've seen him in and out; does he have
work out-stations? Good car, I must
say though, for he's young and single.

The black one is gone most days, and
sometimes, for days together, to return
covered in bird droppings. They moved
recently, this quiet couple who prefer
to keep to themselves. May be they go
on long weekend drives out of the city?

I wonder, gazing at them, sipping my
tea, by the window, late every night.
'Why don't you just go speak to them',
says my wife, tired of my speculations.
'Hmm...not today, bit tired. Tomorrow,
May be', I say, as I jot down these lines.

Driving too fast on my way to get you because the sky is opening up into the Heavens, thinking that a sunset can make you fall back in love. I pick you up, but you've already haloed. My heart is telling me to grab your hand, my hand is telling me to take another drag of the cigarette we're sharing. Hiding beneath the cuffs of my jacket, sitting on the hood of my hatchback. Never knowing whether to fall into you, or fall apart. I look at you against the mauve sky and I can't remember the last time you weren't high.

Two white shirts, starched
on the floor of a car, hatchback.

Blue beauty in the corner, wolfish grin
time for the assassin, new belief.

A resolute thing, his horns won't budge
flying from a limerick's mouth, cavernous.

Sunny youth departs in crocodile fears, a phase
Please don't, I swear the farewell will hold.

A black sedan cruises by with patches of white left behind from the last life it lived. what once stood for justice stands for rebellion as youth irons out the creases in expectation.
     A ******* yellow bug carries triplets each from a different family, each wearing pink bows. They turn in perfect syncro with heartless bug eyes when they catch me unconsciously stare on.
     A small hatchback with a busted taillight; full of ****, comics, and action figures bears a bearded chauffeur who drools all the way back to his cave
     Smell the sharp burning chill come from that coupe with the yellow windows and eyes as red as the ember passing from passenger to passenger in the mirror.
     The little old lady in the silver Buick can't even see over the wheel. Probably better that way considering all she'd see is a bunch of terrified youngsters in a panic to get to that blasted rock concert.
     Don't let the dented tailgate fool you, the only work this one's seen is the piece of work he has waiting for him at home; with fire in one hand and fear on the plate in the other.
     Vans hold all kinds of secrets but the only one this van holds is how its still allowed to come within a mile of a school. After all, candy and ice cream will rot your teeth, especially if they're free.
     Orange, yellow, red, green, blue, checkers. Either way, he's gotta make a living, and if it's to the airport you want to go, he'll get you there in a jiffy.
     The rear view mirror of my old 65 shows only the smirk and grin I wear as the rumble of turn down exhaust wakes up towns and sets off alarms left and right, and sirens blocking my view in the back.

Walking past businesses with their doors wide open
letting the spring air permeate the room and vanquish
the lingering taste of winter
I’ll have what I always have - only make it iced
an ice cream cone is melting in the gutter
and I can almost hear the five year old girl crying for another
all of the colors of this worldly palette now so vibrant
take the blinders off of my eyes
and let my heart dance to rythym of far off shores
I’m smiling because the birds stopped shrieking and started singing
I write the same five or six poems over and over and over again
but I dress them up in different costumes
I’ve always loved acting the noble fool of endearment
I have to move my car in 40 to avoid the ticket
but I might just see how far that ***** little hatchback can take me
to avoid my roots going so deep they dry up
listen to love
listen to rage
listen to petulant cries for warped justice
listen to lust
and listen to depressed realizations
listen to all of the ******* we can come up with
we love to talk but not to listen
blah blah blah
shut up
it’s sunny outside
so take of all of your clothes
and dance in your nakedness
in the middle of midday broad street
unlock all the cages
let the light in
it’s a great day for living
so quit your death march

My love has no limits, except for the minutes.
While my time is gold I spend most of it on the road.
I drive an hour to work every day but that doesn't even touch the countless hours I spend driving my career, driving my education, Driving her, Driving them, driving me to the edge of my adulting ability.
All the while surrounded by near misses and almost disasters.
Watching other crash and burn.

I remember that Subaru hatchback that was older than us,
magenta with a back seat that laid down.
You first said you love me before I knew what that meant.
Now you say you love me with an upward inflection and I know exactly what that means.
When that Subaru died we could have fixed it but we hadn't invested enough to make it worth our while.
Now "We" with a capital W is slowly choking to death but so much has been invested to let her, it, us go.
It started slowly with no real merit.
A scratch that wasn't even noticed, but it wasn't the scratch.
It was the infection that was introduced.
So, so, so slowly it's worked its way.
The internal battle constantly being waged but we didn't know.
We didn't support the structures keeping it at bay.
I didn't feed it so it would be strong, I gave it McDonalds because that's that made it happy.
Now My chest hurts and I can't breathe because that little infection is eating my heart from the inside out.
So do I let it finish me and go back to the star dust I was?
Do I clean out the infection knowing full well that the damage has been done and no matter what I do I'll always be missing a little piece that I didn't nurture and always have a little pain where the good stuff uses to be?
I'm not a doctor yet, I don't know. This infection has gotten so bad that maybe stardust would be better.

No, Papa taught me that our scars remind us that the past is real.
That damage is done, but now I have to remember.
I remember holding your hand for warmth as the ocean mist turned to ice before stinging our faces.
I remember my heart pounding as you walked. two words binding us like a spell.
I remember laughing, and crying, and laughing again in the same conversation.
I remember smelling wood smoke, hearing gentle streams, seeing starry skies, and feeling you pressed against me.

I have made mistakes.
I was the cut that started the infection.
I didn't nurture you, nourish you.
I wasn't careful when  you told me "careful, it's ******* fragile."
I said I love you before I knew how to or what that meant.
I drove fast and took chances.
I didn't tell you to buckle up.
I didn't, wasn't, couldn't. I chose not to.

Now we're here in purgatory, but it's already getting hot.
I don't know how to fix this, but I'll try forget-me-not's.

The widowed lips of a smile long dead,
She falls back with her legs pre-spread,
Eyelids half open, an empty grave of feeling,
Her personality reflected by the ceiling,
The mirror inverting Fitch & Abercrombie,
In a supermarket siege - she'd be a zombie,
An abandoned hatchback on the hard shoulder of life
She'd make a corpse a lovely wife.

I see it most days
A red hatchback
Mostly red
One of the doors is white
It has two doors

I see it most days
As I stand outside
And take a cigarette break
A break from a soul shattering job
I see it

A 1987 maybe a 1992
Can't name the model
Or even the make
Certainly not the year
My best explanation is
It is a beatermobile

I don't know how it runs
But it does

I see it most days
As it chugs along in the parking lot
Spewing exhaust
Carbon emissions
It has two doors
One is white

The other one is a red that doesn't match the rest of the car

I see it most days
And it blows my mind
How is this thing still running?
Well
It is
A beatermobile

And I'm sure it has a story to tell
And its story now

I don't know how it runs
But it does

Cruising through The Great Plains,
In a well traveled and well loved hatchback,
The calm rhythm of folk acoustics follow the gentle sloping motions the land takes as they travel
Clusters of trees off in the distance,
Looking like tidal waves in the evening sky,
Looking almost dark blue under a cloud filled sky,
Forming an ocean all their own.

how many youthful nights have i driven away
from a town of late nights searching for hope
driving this highway with orange street lights
and yellow headlights flashing past my eyes
how many lonely drives must i endure
blasting songs too loud to drown out
my thoughts of grief for this life

the city lights glowing over water
under bridges built to connect us
when all i feel is worlds away
from a life of people that move forward
towards white picket fences
and bouncing baby’s

these drives are spent running
wishing to have enough courage
to pack up this hatchback
and watch as everything i know
grows smaller and smaller

Acid got the sky painted tie dye
I’m that Heathen
Pass the blunt, why lie?
I been chiefing
Bumpin $uicideboy$
Got me feelin like it’s
Do or die, boy
I’m leaving these verses
All in hearses
Ridin spinners on the hearse
It’s that psychedelic fiend
Sentenced to Hell for a dream
****** if I do, ******
If this life just ain’t what it seems
Is this DMT or just a dream?
And why is it more real
When I sleep?
Merrily creep through the streets
I seep through the cracks
Smoking **** in the back
Of the black Cadillac
With a new beat bumpin
I just made on the MacBook
I’m a diamond in the dirt
And they all just some weeds
Shook off the cops
Now I’m lighting the trees
Got a lot, so
The clouds will thicken the plot
Yes, indeed
As I roll through an
Old part of town
Of the Southeast
In an old school drop
With new sounds
And a whole car full of pounds
Of that stink
Pound back another beer
Til I can’t think
Then tell all them cowards come
Near so they can hear the rifle
Blast back, too
Hatchback coupe
Full of Afghan Gu
That Hindu Kush
Be the greenest of bushes
It’s on fire with the acid
I’m pushing
That gas on a couple of tabs
I think I’m pushing it

hidden in the hatchback of goatbreath is the smell of accepted failure. it hums in nostrils. netsick nostrum, holes are burning in my chakra. i seal the deal with seven cigarettes. my stomach bleats at the wealth of judgement, chaotic topology, four hundred calories under four dollars and the ghost that steals it. we metabolize knowing-better until achy. it cinches under my vice reel. vent ounces off the odd keel. cheesey sequence of solitude. sepulcher of the scape goat. wiles of worry, dancing off the coast, calibrated. we carved a mouth on the grave to kissit. some lives. we stained the hull with ****** caramel. sub lies. pick up my sanity from the pharmacy. the world fell short of your specialty.

Hello ,   Yes
a number 19 and a 31
with extra wuhan noodles
Delivery please
I'm isolating
Clocks ticking
foods not here
" Don't panic dear"

Wheres my oxygen
Struggling to breathe
struggling to breathe
struggling to breathe

Car arrives
Hatchback's open
The Chinese
......The Chinese
....Takeaway.

Walking on the Endless Road
Then I wished I had a bicycle.
So Worked Hard Day and Night
Finally  got the best one to Ride.
Then I wished for a Bike.
So Worked Hard Day and Night
Finally got the best one to Ride.
Then I wished for a Car.
So Worked Hard Day and Night
Finally got that hatchback one to Ride.
Now I wish to walk back.
Neither do I have the time or Energy
To walk Back Again.

The clouds look
Just right today

In between yellow
Green branches

And parking lot
Light posts

The people coming
Out of the garden center

Hop on one leg
And feel the breeze

Upon their hair while
Gently caressing their face

I look at the sky again,
From the windows

Of my small hatchback
With my feet out,

The sun upon my skin,
And a lit cigarette

On my left hand, while
I write this on my right

And I think and think
And think and think,

While reading “time is
A mother” by vuong

I don’t have much time,
I have to clock in again.

I was a boy in chains at home
I was a boy upon the road
Years later, I’m still a boy within my head
Trying to let my old dead dreams be fed
The only truth I know;
There was honey in my hair the day I had to go
When sparrows **** the crows and fire starts to snow, I’ll be born that way again.
As a suicidal lover of life I was dreaming with intention, seeing visions of fitting my soul into a pack upon my back
With a hatchback, foodsack and Kerouac my poor rich heart would never lack
Lest all the colours in the world wilted and died like dogs in the dirt

settlement. now what?
settlement. snow & no hat.
match, hatchback: noise, death, money --->
nothing distinguishes better MEMORIES
from MOMENTS
than the SCARS they leave.
settlement. follow follow.
settlement. destroy with no sorrow.

i'm taking mexican food, this queue is evidence.

settlement. you'll conquer every piece of land you step.
settlement. god'll take the form you need.
dreambook, hate fact hook ---->
baby poems in the dark:
they tell light is nothing but
two or three ideas altogether.

no sorrow??
uhuh maybe tomorrow.