Illusive elev plotted
in lieu of
illicit missives
eleve and glossy
ellipses loosely eluted
diffusive sluices
immersing Ulua
a lucite looping in
effusive illusions and
recluses.
Alas! Ill
and useless,
all is longer
mill listing lo
lacy lessening for lost-
loved occlusives.
Dec 6, 2017
Dec 6, 2017 at 11:49 PM UTC
Sometimes I think my love is resting
on the couch from the sidewalk
picking 'part polyester nesting
an undulating thrum manifesting
I'll tell you at the kitchen table
that I've been nowhere lately
In the park across the street
is where we skip your track meet
my legs damp from where we sat
Now in the cool centre of December
with no personal effects to speak of
you tell me a story I'll misremember
Is there power still, an ember
your boss holds your check again
and I call him up and quit for you
Close my eyes for a second
your nails like little almonds
where they touch my cheek
you lift away and I fall asleep.
Dec 4, 2017
Dec 4, 2017 at 10:17 PM UTC
I watched my very own
Charles Bukowski
eat a tangerine outside of
the arthouse
where we were reading.
His name is not really Bukowski,
but he has told tales in the same
vein as the Laureate of Drunkards
for longer than I have been alive.
I have listened to that same back alley
patois,
and barroom wisdom for long
enough that I feel a certain level
of comfort in calling the old gizzard
this municipality's own
Charles Bukowski.
The grizzled old poet
is telling wanton tales
of love and honeydew.
He goes on and on,
recounting the times
that he's drunk
strong potato liquor
with Bengal tigers
in the backseats
of roaring taxis
on his way to parties
hosted by zebras and
gazelles.
We each light a cigarette,
pausing to smoke for a while.
Seeking to continue
the conversation with
my salty comrade,
yet knowing my own
stories cannot compete,
I surge onward nonetheless.
His interruptions jam my
traffic before I can even make
it onto the onramp of his
particular, peculiar highway.
His mouth is already working,
though his tangerine consumed.
He's chewing his next story into
digestible, deliverable bits.
And, now he's chewing the rind.
His mouth,
his words,
his life,
and my own for all of it,
is full of
zest.
***
-JBClaywell
©P&ZPublications 2017
Dec 3, 2017
Dec 3, 2017 at 8:36 PM UTC
I am tired of missing you,
the exercise of the distance.
Like a cat,
returning to it's bowl
no more than five minutes after emptying it,
you are a temporary figure now,
that cannot claim object permanence.
That someday,
poured into a ramekin
like honey and soap,
is numbed by the relentless and
staggered steps
of the hour.
Lift your eyes up, to the horizon
where the plane flattens
into a thin line
and the future lays blue
and final.
Nov 26, 2017
Nov 26, 2017 at 10:20 PM UTC
friends or frenemies (feminist safety instruction card)
a coastal flight, boredom has me riffle through the various
offerings in the seat pocket, and on the safety instruction card
come across this...
<•>
she’s blunt, direct, proffers me an either/or choice,
game on either way, pick door A or B, up to me,
she’s no lady, but a hipster shooter using semi-automatics,
three lines of verse, rat-a-tat-tat, your guts spilling,
hoho you’re dead or kicked in the ***** at the minimum
if only she knew what she was up against
I got words for which there ain't no antidote,
can whip her into a lovers frenzy with cooing metaphors,
slap her with stingers so that she’ll retreat hasty to another site
friends or frenemies, how juvenile, how sweet, how absolutely
childish girl, no interest, play in my arena, I have studied with
the masters and lionesses and offer you no terms but this:
be my lover
extend your reach, speak slow and soft, open and willing,
my sonnets demand close attention, slowing and holding,
building links into chains that make boundaries into a single
tie that binds, not for now and not for later but for the only measure that poets alone command: forever
concede and give up that conceit that tough is a defense,
lose everything for rewards you have yet to witness, conceive,
in my circle is in my circle where the intuitive rules and gasps of shocking come so frequent, they are normal breathing
be my lover
knowing that we will never meet never see the inside of
the furnace that can be dreamed-created with tonguing verbs,
adjectives that dance intertwining pas de deux,
oh my femme fatale, my agent provocateur,
let us learn together how, to teach each other
come,
will be the only action word ever required
come
come write me
come together
come close my eyes
come open them wider
come free me to be a one two
anger is false brevity - loving is the languid forever languishing flames of golden burning orange caramel, word chips of
liquidity that verses, penned passioned calculations,
see how takes many stalks needy to birth bound into a
single sheaf, count the wips of smoky wispy slivers,
combine and separate, the calculus of recombinant,
offering a unique poem with a momentary invitation,
an equation of equality and there is no diverse different
<•>
the first class steward sh/wakes the dozing body
with an apology;
“landing soon, would you like some breakfast before we land?”
the sleepy soul replies,
come to me with water,
just water...for my dream
Nov 26, 2017
Nov 26, 2017 at 7:06 PM UTC
Eldest,
You are cruel by nature
and not knowing better,
but you will come to learn that is no excuse.
An unfilled form,
you're a hand
half in a glove,
and it makes you careless.
You will later apologize for coming first,
Eldest.
Eldest,
you are a stand in.
See what responsibility looks like stretched over adult bones.
Stretch out yourself.
Pull on it.
You idealize a lighthouse.
You chart a course,
some careless and rambling march,
that well,
isn't really supposed to look like that.
Slowly,
you grow to resent your stretch marks,
Eldest.
Eldest,
always guilty,
you wish you’d known that you’d been responsible all along.
Eldest,
dwell on this, as to make sure it won’t happen again.
Teach your eldest child this lesson and hope
they do better than you.
Blindly feel the yoke’s pull,
Eldest.
Nov 26, 2017
Nov 26, 2017 at 5:20 PM UTC
i hate math
not because it's boring
or it requires work
but because it is the thing
that causes my mom and i
to fight
you won't realize this
thinking it's only a shallow opinion
but to me
math is a wall
separating me
from love
Nov 25, 2017
Nov 25, 2017 at 12:22 AM UTC
I've seen to it to be left about,
a coursing, hushing let down.
To prove to you I leave rot out,
I see what's best about my withering brown.
A coursing, hushing let down-
take this as seriously as I say I do.
I see what's best about my withering brown.
My equinox benefits only you.
Take this as seriously as I say I do.
I'll come back and fall to fruit,
(my equinox only benefits you)
when warm tides cause seeds to root.
I'll come back and fall to fruit,
so see it to be left about.
A warm tide caused seeds to root,
I prove it and leave the rot out.
Nov 22, 2017
Nov 22, 2017 at 12:17 PM UTC
Put a poem here ********
Even if you don't know what that **** is
(it's a collection of words, organized
and broken into
lines
and stanzas
like this!)
Put a poem here ********
Even if you don't know how to type!
(you take your finger,
assuming you have one
and if not
that's ok
use whatever you prefer,
and press down on one
of those little squares
you know,
the ones with the
letters on em)
Put a poem here ********
Even if you don't know any white man poets,
dead or alive!
(You don't need em,
you could read em
on the account of background
and cultural appreciation,
but you,
you're enough)
Put a poem here ********
Even if you don't think you're good enough!
(You are, ******
and I am the president of poetry saying
it is true,
but ultimately you will,
grow to be your own champion,
maybe not now,
but I can tell you how)
Put a poem here ********
Even if you don't know how to be your own champion!
(You'll become one by
putting a poem here ********
So, put a poem here ********
Go! Go! Go!
Nov 22, 2017
Nov 22, 2017 at 11:24 AM UTC
She turned her home into a brothel,
and killed god in the process,
because he was an untrained craigslist hire
and struck a nail straight through a wire
hidden in the wall,
and died
foaming at the mouth.
She,
in turn googled a WikiHow
and did the work herself.
Nov 21, 2017
Nov 21, 2017 at 3:12 AM UTC