so she was reading my stuff and said to me
'why do you hide this?
put it out there for people to see'


well I'd like to, but the
      horses would catch me

this is a hunger poem ,

    my stomach is rumbling , and the coyote pelt with its whiskers sits there staring
with empty cut out eyes in the dining room. it was $22 bucks on eBay;
  the stool is twisted at its ankles
and I call for no-one's help.

My nephew has been diagnosed bipolar and so I calm him down;
the rain falls gently on the porch outsides and I drive to a
gas station.

$5 in nickels, the pump greased with sanitizer, I squirt it in.
     a  10th of a tank, and a 10th of
  human heart -- rolling into a dusty willow patch and making no amends.
we all must die
sometime

I like doing pushups  and pull ups
because even though I have the equipment and a full weight rack in my cellar , I always assume that it could be taken away. I always picture scenarios -- alone in the woods with no equipment or nothing else;
try doing a 500ib squat or 300ib bench press then; your muscularity wouldn't even be suited to that environment, it would be dead-weight and quickly absorbed as fuel. & if you've ever used steroids or are currently abusing hormones, your
***** would shrink to a walnut; you've already damaged your body's hormonal system and are now a man reliant on exogenous substances. you're dependent. I
don't want to be dependent. I want to climb up a branch and pull myself up 20 times if I have to, or push my body's weight 100 times ,
I don't need a piece of steel , I need a piece of deer lung.
& as the cell closes in, the newspaper with water bags
make great dumbbells. just be sure to get your vitamins. & watch out for predators in the night

I remember a 90 year old jew at the Getty Center coming up to us in line while waiting for the bus to get to the top of the hill to see
Leonardo Davinci's hand-drawn notes and sketches of 'Human Anatomy' and other classics;
and this guy wouldn't stop talking about reuben sandwiches and Canter's deli, and that you have to a have real Dill pickle, not that ''bread'n'butter ****'. & he kept showing his holocaust tattoo with blue ink and would say how the guards killed his mother and ***** his sister and threw his little brother in a cell for days to come out starved and covered in lice so he was thrown in the chamber himself,
and he kept talking and talking
and talking
blah blah blahhh
  and he shed a few tears and drank his water in the bench area while eating his sad balogna sandwich,
but at least he was done talking. man he was boring.
I had stuff to do, like look at drawings of human penises ,
dissected
and
the bushes were all blue in the courtyard; because it was July

Poetry rarely makes its way into the public stream of consciousness, but it's good to know that it's at least timeless. Words don't age, cheesy saxaphones and traps beats do

Is this a poem?

Or
   is
  this

a poem?



I received a $2,142 return on my taxes and they are due by July.

I
  received a
$2,142
dollar
  return on my taxes and they are due
by
      July


This whole art form could be arbitrary.

were my forum posts on seedy websites
poems?

All goodbyes take time,

swinging
into a doorway,
the critter is unmaimed.
I miss
    my mother