My first name
Ripped, screamed, slammed
Out of calm air
just before impact
Sounds like trays of silverware
being dropped on linoleum,
The crash in the restaurant kitchen
That stops the dining room
Smoke and steam erupt
From the maimed car hood,
Crescent bent steering wheel
Speedometer needle frozen at fifty-one
Squirming out of windows
Because the doors
are crushed closed
We buried our illegal treasures
Somewhere near a plowed field
Underneath the scraped bridge
No need to panic
Only until the grapey blood
Runs over my brow
The windshield was molded
With the impression
Of a bowling ball
We saw a slip of hairy scalp,
a wet potato chip crisping
in the sun
The kids at school drew
peace signs and *** leaves
On my mummy-wrap bandage
Ten years later
I look in the mirror
At a fasten seat belt sign
Of a scar
Oct 23, 2017
Oct 23, 2017 at 4:45 PM UTC
Roam phantoms
of my little
lost self,
Playing, running
around the apple trees
Happy is
the laughter
of my twin sister
Through the kitchen
window Mom fixes
dinner
Her smile bastes
the turkey
for Thanksgiving
Roam phantoms
of my little
lost self,
Playing, running
around the apple trees
Now
the fallen apples
rot on the ground
The backyard
of my past
is sullen wet
with leaves
Oct 10, 2017
Oct 10, 2017 at 3:27 PM UTC
Once again, a first.
A kiss with feeling above whim,
A portent of time and love,
Warm and honest with infiniteness.
She let a smile before her breath,
And handling herself
With utmost confidence,
Closed her eyes to prove
The utter ease of the cosmos!
Her hand in my hair, she breathed:
“You've made my life much more complicated.”
Oct 9, 2017
Oct 9, 2017 at 3:38 PM UTC
What is sleep when
My own shadow
Won’t even confront me?
Scream all you’d like
I still won’t look at you
Oct 8, 2017
Oct 8, 2017 at 11:39 PM UTC
On Sundays the creatures
Ooze from their awkward dwellings,
Like fat worms after a downpour,
And rush the City.
They infect silently with their sick eyes,
They brush along your shoulder in passing,
They exchange ***** money,
They cause accidents.
They stare at you from across
Your favorite diners
With black coffee depression
And mutter underneath their breaths:
"This isn't real."
Oct 8, 2017
Oct 8, 2017 at 7:34 PM UTC
My lone, disheveled skiff is flooded
With moonlight. I am a real-life sea captain,
Wading off the shore of Life.
I have jettisoned my mighty oar,
I now lie on the hull, drowning
In a Champion's brew.
I miss my mates.
I'm sick of reminiscing w/ the stars
Of my friends, my crew,
Our complacency,
And the Great War.
Oct 8, 2017
Oct 8, 2017 at 6:09 PM UTC
There is a stiffness in my thumb
That stops me dead on feet
When I bend it, snap,
I clench my teeth
Cars hiss, splashing tires
The rain soothes my bones
Outside my grimy pane,
Dolorous bells—
Telephones
Do thumbs really ache
In inclemency?
All this time the rain
Has acidified, melting my marrows,
Or perhaps I had only fallen
Oct 8, 2017
Oct 8, 2017 at 4:42 PM UTC