I only knew him by the sounds of scraping slippers on trash days, early to to the curb, always before mine; first at everything.
In late afternoons, when my head hurt from the relentless "boing" of my phone, reminding me of another email I will hate myself for opening at 3:00 am, he would be sweeping his driveway. This old broom, worn down to the stitching, mused by his slippers, synced itself to me. A concert in minutiae before I went inside.
Yesterday his door was open for hours. I only pretended to knock on it. The smell of wet wood and ***** did not sound like anything. It was more of a silent purple or blue faced hanging in a kitchen. I sat in one of his hand made chairs that I felt comfortable in, becoming furious. I stole his slippers and his broom before I called the police. It was trash day tomorrow.
Jul 4, 2018
Jul 4, 2018 at 12:52 PM UTC
How useful could they be really
extremities that just hang from us
They run into things
They trip over things
They get us into trouble
Some grab things
Some drop things
Some run, toward the wrong things
They put things into other things
and make people say I love you
All of them flesh, soft, rubbery
All of them easily broken, hurt
I was thrown once, at high speed, like a top, into the wind
They pulled away from me as far as they could
like they were trying to save themselves
They covered my eyes
before you asked me to look at you
before you asked me to leave
They held my head
They packed my bags
They walked me out
They would not bring me food
They would not get me out of bed
They would not reach for help
Somehow, they got me up
Somehow, they got me home
Somehow, they led me back to you
They move the hair from your face again
They wrap themselves around you again
They hold yours when we walk again
Today they knelt and clasped themselves together
May 14, 2018
May 14, 2018 at 8:15 PM UTC
I make circles with my fingers over your face
and exhale
Round and round
until you find my mouth
I quickly press you forward
thrusting your broken parts like porcelain
through my clenching teeth
Cold visceral parts
cobble their way down
my throat
until you release me
May 9, 2018
May 9, 2018 at 11:24 PM UTC
These dingy sheets
discolored at their ends
Press them out, to the brown
Slowly down
Move creamy beige wrinkles
out from the middle
pull the quilt, tuck it tight
flower print, deep purple
radiantly bring the room
back together again
Apr 6, 2018
Apr 6, 2018 at 8:44 PM UTC
It meanders
in us
like a melody
of wishes,
suspended softly
between our desire -
pulsing
beneath the skin,
wishing
it was ours to have
like gifts
in someone elses past,
for hope
we never had,
dreams
we never held,
seeming
to believe in love.
Dec 8, 2017
Dec 8, 2017 at 9:32 PM UTC
It's selfish to taste your morning all at once
knowing you had passed
but that was yesterday when you touched all those babies
when they breathed deep and smelled San Diego
I stared too long at you, into your echoes
...your ************ old age into oxygen bottles
stroking out to door handles you twisted to leave here
When you cinder
I will give you back to Mexico
with all my pulverized bone wrapped in plastic
sealed tight enough for you to gnash your teeth on
Sep 18, 2017
Sep 18, 2017 at 10:53 PM UTC
It isn't that you come here
moaning and flailing about my room
in a desperate apparitional brilliance
or that you move between my walls
omnipotent, chain rattling
but so much more
You make noise of fears
poets do not care of
of dying
of living
of beseech
of neglect
of need
but in a wailing assertion
If you want dominion here
break something
his future
his past
his heart -
his thoughts
If not
he will most likely
cast you out to dolts
tucked tight in beds
in other cul-de-sacs
You need to understand
this home owns a sedentary poet
seduced by despondence
as aloof as anyone
you have ever strived to poltergeist
he will not know of you
lacking gifted conversation
and a planchette
Sep 14, 2017
Sep 14, 2017 at 11:14 PM UTC
Come darling
hold my hand
as we did in summer
We would watch wild parrots cross the sky
squawking side by side to bite each other
their effervescent greens and yellows
swallowed by the dusk of us
blurred into one behind an orange sun
setting just beyond our sight
Hold my hand darling
into our darker gray
reminisce of when
we perched in trees
across our seasons
Sep 12, 2017
Sep 12, 2017 at 11:11 PM UTC
It is hard
to watch you struggle
in those heels
your sullen vacant face
stretched
across catwalks
of nightclubs
breaking ankles over
the next bigger ****
In back alleys
of phat parties
under golden showers
for top pay -
******* pink
and brown
and you
A salacious parade
that lives
to lap you up
despite your pain
I can't watch it anymore
...but I just may pay
Sep 9, 2017
Sep 9, 2017 at 6:44 PM UTC
I caught a bird
some time ago
and spent all our time
together
I taught it how to sing
I taught it how to fly
and then flew away
forever
Sep 7, 2017
Sep 7, 2017 at 8:40 PM UTC