I barely know you,
Yet my words just spill out with no filter.
I want you to just see me,
Without a mask and a little off kilter.

Crushes are weird.

I wonder if you
Think about me because
I think about you
So much.

It's ironic that everything is so alive
just before everything dies.
the red orange golden leaves stutter in the breeze
as if waving goodbye.
The sun glances down some mornings,
but it's fleeting
for then the rain comes.
it is a time of bon fires
and pumpkin spiced everything.
when comforters crawl out of closets
draped over saggy shoulders.
When children bury themselves under the leaves
like animals
and spring from the earth
like bears.
Autumn is upon us for but a moment
a fleeting glimmer of sunlight
before we tuck into winter.

Goose.
Goose goose geese.
Geese Geese
goose geese,
duck geese goose
geese duck geese goose geese.
Duck goose geese
Swan duck goose.
geese goose duck swan
swan duck goose geese goose.
swan duck geese Ryan Gosling
goose duck swan.
Swan duck goose.
Swan.
Goose duck geese goose.
Goose swan geese duck.
Swan swan goose
duck geese goose.
Duck duck goose geese swan.
duck swan.
duck.
swan.
swan.

*** a couple times with your hand that
    has one vein popped up over the knuckle. sheets crinkle
    laundry sits in the small humid room.
    smells like roadkill and peppermint,
    like christmas eve with dinner down the toilet.

you've *** four times in an hour,
rubbing at yourself through your underwear.
don't touch skin. it's off limits today.

getting raw means you can feel
how it stings when you cross your legs.
it's not about pleasure. it's the reminder:
   you want to know what you look like,
   what you feel like.

next time you're ******* down some boy you ask him
"how does that feel?" he says "good."
            quick kiss, his ****** is archaic and copper.
            you like how it tastes. now it's your turn:
but of course he won't make you *** unless
you take your hand and rub while he *****,
your hand a barrier between his body and yours.

          "please be quiet," you say out loud
the boy furrows his eyebrows, "i didn't say anything."
you laugh, "no, my stomach."

pretend to *** for a faster exit.
give him a tiny maternal kiss.
let it linger out the room where it's cold but he's still warm.
you don't want a warmth you have to love because it's too much.

the scab on your neck is now a scar
       and you have no make-up for the ones on your forearms, but
       really, most of you by now is star dust and tobacco leaves.

               the sun is in our eyes. i want to know
               what makes a circle go on forever.
i think about ****** a lot.
dreamt two nights ago chris sold me some,
it was in that tiny wax bag with a "king ******" stamp .
when i texted him the next day said "i dreamt
we did some together," he said
                 "that's funny. i've been doing some definitely
                  but not really selling."

     the Chicago cold does something odd enough to you.
it always seemed like you were alive as a kid. well,
were you?

               where is your body? out in the storm.
                are you a ghost? no, it would be nice though:
                    the lack of responsibility of life,
                                    a state of impermanence.
    it would be nice.

artifacts arranged
chronologically -

flint and wood
allied with cordage -

sharp-edged bronze and iron
- a skull with cut marks
beside a copper
-tipped alloy bullet

on the shelf between
war and peace
and anthropology -
an anthology

- details emerge
in the painting
- killing is our nature
and dying

- a still life.

r ~ 10/26/14

Under the I-20 bridge
over the Chatta-
'hoochee suits me
fine as fishin' line

- I've been retried
and found
I ain't wanted

nothing but a winter coat -
my sweet mutt Woof
- an old six string Martin
and a 'frigerator carton

for sleeping in the winter wind
when the sun don't shine -

I don't have a bone to pick
- my fingers ain't quiet as quick
and nimble on a riff - my back is stiff
- but my voice is still whiskey

smooth and my words turn
water into thunderbird - wine

retried suits me just fine
- jailhouse jeans
and salvation army boots -
refried beans and cheap cheroots
- sitting on an old truck tire
around an open fire

I've been  retried and trued
but I ain't yet retired -

somebody's got
to feed my dog -
sing some songs
- catch these fish
and start the fire -
drink a little *****

- 'neath the I-20 bridge
over the Chattahoochee

rivaaa····

r ~ 10/16/14

we see the smoke
and hear the drums -

it gets old - the news
of war - no more glory

-  the dead are dying
old and young

- we see the smoke
and hear the drums -

living in our rooms
above the fray -

we turn away
like yesterday -

we see the smoke
and hear the drums -

another day.

r ~ 10/17/14

i still spell gray
with an a

not an e
in my po-etry

does it matter
to the grammar?

hoo's to say

says the owl
to the vowel

it's a gray area.

r  ~ 10/17/14