I have this teakettle
of angry
it whistles
when it gets high

Is a giant
FU

to someone
just don't know

who in general
in specific

it's you
you you you

you

i am frozen
in lone

line after line
no time

is lost among these
trees

of separateness
these branches

time winds
up hanging

you and I
am something

aware of what
transpires 'tween breaths

no matter
no matter are we

thinking this line
that line

oh it's fine
grip it tight

is unsaid



Copyright@2018 Dennis Willis

R u waiting
for someone
Too?

R u wanting
for someone
Too?

Sitting or laying?
Wishing or praying?
Fearful or playing?

Alone with a phone
is still
alone

Alone with a poem
is still
alone

Artfully alone
waiting
for your touch

That crushes
syllables
to dust

Makes
my heart
bust

All smiles
post
great lust

I want that
Where are you
now


Copyright@2019 Dennis Willis

Ahm always
tryin' to make
someone
feel hole

Ahm all about
that reeling
unexpurgated
hole

I feel as if
I know you
something
hole plus

and to
the degree
I feel
your absence

What is sweeping
through our
world
like a song?

What uses
our strings
and our valves
and our sounding
surfaces to throb
to thrum

It isn't today

What aims this
salted cleaver

you swing in time
with the base line

chopped ham evenings
unsalted mornings
a gap in my frontier

I wonder at what works
and for how long
the tradeoffs

Individuals pay for time
friction collects itself
a trophy
of far to go

Swirling eddies obscure
the depth of needed relaxation
lie down time
and smother its breathing

under which sleepiness
and other common notes
pluck life like soggy dogs
barking and shaking dry

It doesn't say does it

Waves of us
being particular
shaking us dry
converge on a wire

maybe the
whole stack
has to be
of play

and u
a funny
song
ster

Copyright@2019 Dennis Willis

What happened there I wondered
and I thought of the rain
it held to things
and light had a special gravity
across your face
it said the universe
lightly



Copyright@2019 Dennis Willis

We can be so thin
to each other

As if we will
eat the skin

of each other
as if we will

suddenly be kin
to each other

I'm deciding next
I'm declaring wrecked

is it win or sin
pulling at your grin cha

who's hands are these
are they my mom's
they are capable
of working so hard
though i don't
so much, i have
and they do
are they my dad's
i can work with them
they get
how most things fit
pretty much
on their own
are these the hands
of some ancestor
whose thumb swiveled
around abit
are these the hands
at the ends
of your wrists, henchmen
to would-be poets

Tears and the slaughter
of sobriety
Things forced into cracks
and thunderizations

That and a hammer

knock knock

Do you employ
thought constructs

North of the border

clambering over
things

darkened with salt

when one is empty

and drinks from the other

I am drawn in again
in a story again
being explained

again

hang on while I

reposition all of your
assertions

ummph, there, better, right

If I wanted you to actually get it
I'd write it differently

I'm not going for
a touchdown

I'm going for
a distraction

That might lead to an
unraveling

Of something
you weren't aware

was raveled
and needed to be un

You indulged
in your self loathing
habit
made yourself
feel so bad
it was ok
to take advantage
of me

Take this *******
Out of your head

Into the Woods
Drive a stake through its heart

Pour on
some gasoline

Yes throw
A grenade on it

This question
A depression worm

Ask instead
How can I?

Live There



Copyright@2018 Dennis Willis

why do i think
i am someone
why do i think
they will call
when they don't
at all
they don't
at all

why do i think
i am not breaking
why do i think
you're not a piece

mmm
mmmmm

why do i think i am someone you want to come and see
clearly i am someone clearly i am someone
no one wants to see

here i am sitting home alone oh let me check my phone
no no one liked me back no one liked me back

why do i think
i am someone
why do i think
they will call
why do i think
i am someone
when i am no one
at all

why i can't write a poem
muse's day off
barnacles
sandwiches
little bits of things
that have no ring
a ling a ling d ding
today

So I'm thinking about you
and this barrier
between us

Wielding poesy as if
hacking through
a gnarly vined mind

It's a pastime
of mine
then there's you

Singing herein
an' playing critic
to my Tristan

We emote some ****
eke closer
to satisfying wordsound

Grunting


Copyright@2019 Dennis Willis

so i saw a lilly
and grabbed it
for a filly
she said that
was so silly
then things went
***** nilly

I have automated
my imagination
i just press a button
and new ideas

dance, fairly prance,
in my mind's eye
does my mind lie?
lie de lie lie de lie

This curly mess
of almost
lie lie lie
lie de lie

You see I have stolen
waves
i seem to covet them
with fins

All of these days
under some cloud
I create unless
i don't
on some days

rain is a fixture
a saturating often
reign o'er even breath
do you now try
to breathe

You live in an imaginary world
where there are high dromedary burled
Where pings and pangs and yings and yangs
and the tasty tings and tangs wing and bang
seriously even deliriously I've previously deviously
doubted even pouted surreptitiously scouted 'n been outed
you know it as a you know it as a who wrote it 'n gloated
this was front loaded and goaded not oded high roaded
the hurt of that last spurt stops these beating flops

Electrons
have shells
and inside
those shells
they are safe

Electrons live
in shells
and inside
those shells
neutrons you
might be one
and protons
not here nope

Protons are
not dismayed
by a poorly made
Sarah made
can you read
between the
rhythm's wave
and it's

substitute
nothing in it for
anything and
you have
everything
again
inside

with you
wishing i
was wishing
i was wishing
i was with
you

It's just what I want
I think sitting alone
wondering what
actually works
with you people
anyway

it's a formulaic process to
true happiness

*** that fake
happiness
already

you should know
the difference
ence
by now
now

so the join
is glued
in scotch
and a late night drive
i remember
writing that


the join
is asunder

the join
here

open the door
say hello
to a line
you
ease in

what do you
swallow

we both wonder
about the join

true happiness
scotch

etc...
how will he

pull
it together

he can't
did

will
am

pulling it together on the lamb from
time
and the beliefs
therein

lovin
poetic language
self awareness

wondering
across  this
fresh time
as it if never  ended

here




Copyright@2019 Dennis Willis

Intervals of day
at different levels
lids partially off
jars of small time
want and fear
this and that
unfinished things
orbit my ascending
descent of moments
remaining open
peeling labels off jars
relabeling past
recognition
What was
my original color
and shape
another jars open
spilling itself
all over my now
like a dog i am
on my back
in the grass
Rolling in
I want to
smell like you
All day

That kind of a dayam
day

hopes peeled and cooked
before a reasonable hour
so i stayed in bed
say no more

hopes rekindled
by an unexpected response
and i waited again
ahm seeing a pattern

no call no show
oh sorry this happened
i wretch these sorry words
forward with apologies

tv, cab, pistachios
can make a lot right
on a bad night
when you take flight-

sorry. I don't usually do that
klondikes like candy
isn't even sensible
as words

snarls into something
we don't want
[There is not enuf here
to convey the rising clenching
clawing for a way out]
part of
and this

this i am
is the one
to find
and

eviscerate

**** the acknowledgment
of pre-created
grooves

They were madmen
early advertisers
hawking

Look-it looky here
looky looky lue
look you

Be drownt out
in your own life
by mine

Thas a complete
fools game
in rain

You and I only exist now.  Though that’s a squishy statement since I am writing this in my now and you are reading it in yours.  

What is the temporal connection between our nows.  The fierceness of now is not overcome by our distance.  Or our different calendars.  Is now held here in this almost physicality of looks-like-print?

Isn’t this is-now-between-us not the same somehow as where your hand rests as you read what my hands type is now? I’m still trying to ask that question. Abbreviations.

What wants to be felt that is lost in this small wire?

My skin would brush against yours.

The thing about these tears
is that i need them to hear
in this isolation and quiet
the coughing of a small vent
swaying in the air pressure
in my air handling system
keeps me company along
with the noise of these keys
that leap off the screen to me
like weights and measures

do i hold up here against
do i hold up here welcome
do i hold up here

look i think at whatever
be in whatever for now

panics to your stability
high browed looks looking

and deep breaths settle out
and sort out a turning aside

here we've tuned into it
a curve unlike any other

costing you structured thought
systemic imaginings flounder

and the thing about these tears
is the edge upon  
which they are spilled

is a wound

Welcome to high energy poetry
well that didn't last

a life of
inflammation
with bouts of
consternation
and today's
conflagration
the final
indignation
my yawning
imagination
write sleep now
gesticulation
and vanish
distribilation

has meaning gone?
oh good

it's dark it's quiet
and there is ache
forcing shifting

i've a cotton swab
and two crayons
colors i can't see

smeared probably
indeterminate
like ankles sweeping by

my mind is in two places
at once the feel of that skin
against my face vibrato

back here typing words
i think with electrons and pixels
a density pleasing to the eye

and something is owed here
let from always guarded
a minimum a glimpse

my name is uncertain
i'm sure your hunger
is concerned with scent

the zigs and zags of the rest
clever beautiful intricate
non-existent experience

why don't you
have another hit of anger
and go off righteously
and go all righteous for me
this is what i love to see
easier to know where not to be

Yoour opiiinion is wooorth discuuuuusing
doncha thank

I gave that up
that piece

Given up
and watched

Surrendered
knowing

I might be
wrong

I might be
strong

Coarse leather
dark patina
no shape
I almost saw
your soul

I'm stalling
always stalling
won't even
can't nope
ain't doing it
not even
knowin' y

Blah!
Bluh blah blah
Gotta Yada

I'm just here
in my life
imagining strife

and the printer
prints out
these letters

and the ai
shouts out
its cure

the sound
of words
no sinecure

I just want
to be a story
perhaps a flat

when I realize
its about balloons
i inhabit

So it seems I have found
um
dodging in and out of
poetry
the level at which shelter
rhymes
below which nothing
shines

So maybe I should say to
you
Slopping your eyes along
here
hold all you hold dear and
fearing
the other things inside your
big head
consider just think about about
rhythm

To your body you are a dance
along
just wanting a reason to prance
along
and time spent this way it goes
along
and cleverly this is really hard to
get wrong

I am flowing into this life
I am growing into this niche

it is more human more unsettled
more unexpected in every way

i am occupied by sincerity
its unreasonable expectation

how it listens and smiles
at the sound of the unknown

I yam just a poem
with bits o' dirt
clinging to me
Can't seem
to them brush off

I just drive around
by sound

it tells me
what ears worst

'n best

'n unruly

'n tasty

'n i abandon

time

for this

o'er 'n o'er
i don't know why

this is so
delicious


Copyright@2019 Dennis Willis

I don't have to be entertaining
I don't have to be excelling
I don't have to be achieving
I don't have to be inging anying

These costly Thursdays add up
three shot Thursday wants four
heartbreak and a toothache and a
ground-shake and i'm in a lake
of not knots what knots heart knots
and snots like you


Friendly forgetfulness
has slain me the forgotten
so i must move on
to more memorable
being me somewhere
else
again

I am mentally trying
to crush your life
I hope to ****
its working

I never hear anything
until much later
like years much later
why is that
I'm listening

What waits
in that head of yours
for freedom

what are
your bonds
or who

stretch something
here
more than

this disguised
convalescing
maybe

I'm a
force
of life

As you die
my poets
sing

I'm writing back
in response to your
imaginary inquiry
it was a reality I
didn't expect come
loudly and harshly
onto me and I didn't
I just didn't even
"major tom to ground
control" twist some
**** now screeching
just to see your ******

I'm going to time things
so you'll all see
and then I'll show you
what for

You know it's
just a wave
and still
you are
caught up
feet up
moving
as if
you were
nothing
afloat
in something
joyously
terrifying