what am i doing up again?
oh thats right
we're having a fight
im pecking at the keys
one finger at a time
and you keep trying
to place eight on the home row
i stumble around
failing to express
how its simply not my fault
how its not something that i can help
"and thats why im here love"
her new mantra
and if thats what it takes
shame me
into being able to be with you
make it so
shame on

taken under by the swell
dragged and punched by
a wave

[too] high
to climb so far above
to the crest

who needs sea-foam
anyway
its mostly ******* air

hot to drop
to the coolest depths
and be covered over

ill be turned on
over
to reveal the barnacles and moss

taking lichens for a walk now
mon-tue
only twenty clams

this might not be centered
more that likely left aligned
im looking for the significance
that others toss in your direction ceremoniously
with flat or sharp tones
and sweets
paper and ribbons
provided some measure of luck
with cheer and toasts
a new look and ease of mind
but three hundred and sixty five is not enough
how about three thousand

this sidewalk is doing nothing for me
until your blue pools drowned me
but you caught me
in ill hold you like my champion
im in love.

understanding cant be amused
hate
drives ever bit of me away
but id love to stay
war
poverty
me

what is meant to be
will
sera
sera

CHIT CHAT and then lets
Freeze this moment
still as night
Finish the cup of black
And replace it completely
With half and half
Done and captured
But why remember
Who will ******* remember
Develop the postcard
And scratch your beaten head

a child like thing that i plunged
was shot off the red clay
and grass
directly into the river
that creeped
as if on stilts

my heart swelled
as i was immersed
and ever single fiber in me
sang
smiling son hard i forgot
not to breathe under water

it was her black eyes
the angel
that drew me to the slender arms
of my savior

only to leave me on the shore
alive.

i cant write when im angry
it makes the meat melt
and the gristle grow
into something that i need
to spit out

these are always the shortest
because the causal cooings
shift ****
to a place where i understand

but that doesnt mean
i have to like it
nothing of the sort
nothing is more disgusting
nothing rings more true
than fury

i witnessed a yoga class
at south by
push ups
downward dog and happy baby
**** cheeks
whispers
watch me
watch me name things
this
that
and the other lover
oh
thats me too
im two terrible people at once
pages run
too thin
though i have enough
blood to supply
those that remain

who needs blood when
innards spew plentifully
who needs a pen
when a finger will suffice
why paper when a bar window
begs for my inscription

look

downward ******* dog man
easy in
vocal out
its really not that hard
you just need to work on your balance

i swear to god im going to stop
yes ill crumple my pack
and pour out the bottle under my bed
unload the shotgun
deactivate my account
and put my pen away
not because you complain of my odor
or that i stumble too often
or that im trigger happy
or that i post like theres no tomorrow
or because the verses i author
are vile
accusatory
explicit
pathetic
needy or
inflammatory
but because the first is the best day
to trick yourself
into existing just as you should
into being someone that
a partner might actually want to be with
i can
i can do it
and if a pledge isnt good enough
im selling tickets
general admission though
first come first served
and honestly you should
get there early because
this is something that everyone
is going to want to see

the final day approaches
more quickly than any
chicken on a june bug
this is the first time
my great grandfathers aphorism
has resonated so deeply

i implore them
each and every one
ask me
ask me anything
i can help you embrace
what your unencumbered peers
treasure
what guides them to a bright future
and its absence in you
to something far more dismal

despite my rationalization
my soft realization
i hold out hope

for you, proprietor of un criadero de caballos
stable full and ahead by a nose
for you, avian veteran
star college running back in the end zone
for you, pop artist
changing galleries with colorful violence

its soon out of my hands
grains sliding through my grip
onto your desk
with which to build
a magnificent castle
or to blow back upon the earth

ask me anything
if i dont know we can search
for truth
and then Truth

im told times up
dont drag me out yet
let me finish this lin..........

i would have been barefoot
with cuffs not hemmed
and rolled
but its not fashion
my jeans are aged
but not from design

i wear my life
into a one roomed class
it dons a bell tower
and, post-toll
no one prays
one instructor for all
each led in divergent direction
according to our abilities

and while the greater lot
learns an appealing cursive script
i curse at the blank pages before me
in my simple way
passing them as notes
but they fall on ears
as barren of hearing
as the recipients feet are
of the callous and sediment
that make mine
breathe life into my narrative

but here no lessons are taught
however gleaned from discord
interpreted through grime
grime and rebuke
filtered through shallow waters
through embattled plains
rife with mole hills and ant piles
scattered with patches of knee high grass
spotted with blooming indigenous flora

dont get weirded out
this is safe for work
you see im entertaining tomorrow
a thorough cleaning is in order
through and through
first things first
a proper dusting
right after the coveted sharpie box
shelf comes "first"
books records bric-a-brac and all
****
ive been meaning to listen to this album
signed and everything
lets put that on for some dusting music
table turns
check
the needles effective
i can hear the shallow resonance
hmm no audio
lets unplug all the cables
check the power supply
and the pre-amp
turn it all off then on again
****
let me take this apart real quick
****
i need some parts
i need to call stanton
OPERATOR! OPERATOR!
30 minutes later im told they dont have it
WHELP
back to dusting
stepping over stanton parts
I THOUGHT I LOST THIS MOVIE
i can play it in the background
whilst im cleaning
THE PROJECTORS BROKEN
let me take that apart real quick
hope i dont get the parts
of the two aberrations crossed
that mustnt happen
wink
and then the re-framing project
and then organizing my music collection
and then just one poem
color code my closet
rewrite my resume
clip my toenails
and my nose hair
four more poems
annnnnnnnnnd
mess

"oh hey welcome, drinks are over there
just dont step on my record player"

and heres where it gets crazy smart
i tear EVERYTHING off the walls
draw all over all the stuffs
with those ****** sharpies that started it all
turn the whole ******* place
into a performance art piece
i call it
"fix it: I DARE YOU!"

i opened my eyes
again
and there existed a black spot
between the north star
and the rolling clouds

i stared into it
deeply
and i followed myself in
to our bed upstairs
and the feathers roll over

i went deeper even
home
and i found me weeping
near the keys that make me
and we rested together again

i knelt yet again
flawless
and you grinned again
fatter than you ever have
and we held hands

i pulled back the curtains
******
and shone in the light
illuminating the dust on the shelf
and we read together

i pulled you through customs
dragged
and we skipped to the gate
shouting over an intercom
and we tugged each the other

we crossed the seas
oceans
and we got lost
wandering and without list
and through this we bonded

we unpacked our bags
furniture
and we certainly shopped
finding a place to call home
and we called a bungalow home

we died together
coughing
and we fixed kosher eggs
making way for the others spirit
and we slept a year through

in the ground

i was blind before i wrote this
pitch black
behind the keys i found sight
finish

not the land where we
as people
loose ourself
its finished
the arguments
the loose ends
its over
my way and yours have inexorably been enter-twined  
chuckles mean no more

and i write
and you clean
and worship moments when you lose it
and chuckle
and clean

save me
you have the coins
to place on my eyes
and you clean
and i chuckle
and it is solved

and then it isnt
and then it is
and then WE are
and then it never was

and you talk back
and i win
and you lose
and it stinks
to high heaven

my heart beats at your pace
everything around me throbs
with the patience of your rhythm
and you
like the drum major
stomp with the purpose
of creating the tone
for the crowd
playing your song
as boisterous as it is

its still a song though
sweeping and beautiful
revelatory
weep-worthy

its a song.

That tree
The oak out front
The one indelibly tattooed on me
In full moon light
When everyone is quiet
Above all imposed virtue
Moreys
Those vanish
Comfortably in their dreamscapes
Meeting their lives love
Committing Crimes
They would never imagine 
Appropriate 
Necessary 
Fair
Or in some cases
Riding on the back 
Of an ice cream donkey
Into the sunset

In that quiet
I can see
With all certainty
Who that tree really is

Im looking into the eye of  a scowling Bowser
Two eight-limbed horns

This is the tree 
That triple dog dares me
To stop squatting
Not this front porch
Unfiltered and French inhaling
Sighing because this tree
Is shaming me with its boughs 

Leave!
It dares me
And I will
I should
So I can find 
Like the dreamers above
my life's love

youre bringing me down

not to the tank floor
where your image above seems distorted and oscillates
between grim and precious
but where you deflate me

below where my ego floats me
feet parallel
third eye perpendicular
like you and yours

bringing me way down

not below the bed (unless you like that kind of thing)
where only the darkened image of your lowest extremities are in view
only your most base visible
but you enfeeble me

beneath where my height normally is measured
knees grinding
clutching my claws
into the ground

down down down (man)

not still, submerged within the earth
where thistle and clover block my view of you
your tears watering my marble marker
but you pacify me

buried beyond my anxieties
placidity settling
astride my bone
to envelop my quintessence

I know what it feels like
To be isolated
stranded on an island
in a sea of meaningful conversation
so remote you need binoculars
to find people holding hands

thats not us today
not you second mom
not me failing educator
but us
jovial and talkative
skipping down mainstreet
stopping in pocket parks
to plan our towns future

i want to take you somewhere
that place that we used to go
well not together
that breakfast place
's been around for a half century
well
its not there any more
its a bar now
look ill buy you a shiner
and you just sit there
look pretty
and write on this dollar

and thats what she wrote
"b [star] [heart]"
with the shapes there instead
just over washingtons face
and i made for it a frame
just in the corners
and the new bartender
stapled it right in plain view
above the ***** section
down at the end
where the old men talk about
the ways that it hasnt
or never will
work out for them

you embody their silent shrine now
you are reigning over the space
where they come to be lonely
but talkative though
the place where they come
to find people with whom to hold hands
to skip down main street
to stop in pocket parks
and talk about the way
things need to be changed
and how [we] can change them

Worn like badges these tears of forgiveness
Proud and glistening like a hilltop beacon
What cant be seen through these pearly
Manifestations of empathy
Are the millions of compounded experiences
Over the course of blossoming relationships
My ****** Mary as innocent as the most pure marble
As generous as the trunk that houses
The raven and its prey alike
The only remaining vestige of
What can be seen good in this world
Seen as a guiding relic
One noble and presumptuous
Taking on every lament brought
And shedding for the followers
Tears of redemption as deep and cathartic
As the thriving sea
As wonderful and symbolic
As the universe embodied
I am her prophet
Face down and prostrate
I assume her worldly debt

I said I would zig
And right then I zagged
I tip toes into the vault
Found the cold box
Numbered 5545
And slid it out
The treasure trove
Of what you never wanted me to see

Oh but I'm coy
Confounding
Slippery and seruptitous
Admonished and allay
Of any blame

Cause you left the key
On my ring
And the doormen know my name
Who needs a Nixon mask
When you can walk right in
With fling flongs and a parrot hat

I came for what's in the back
And when the sword was unsheathed
The container cracked open
The glow of your hidden life
Shone upon
What is now my bug bitten face

But the the glow of horror
A man can stand only so long
And the chest
And it's keepsakes
Crashed onto the tile dropped
But just before I faint
I loose my liquid lunch

i rode a bike straight up the side of a mountain
no motorcycle
im talking ONE SPEED
im talkin straight up the side
65, 70 degree grade
i mean, i was defying the laws
physics medicine the constitution man
because im the only person
that knew what was waiting
****
she was sitting full lotus
reading leaves of grass
an orchid behind her ear
smiling
whistling when it struck her

and she knew my ******* name
and i hers
we would take a leisurely stroll
floating above craggy cliffs
spiraling downward from the pinnacle
slowly toward the lake at the bottom
where we would pick wildflowers
and then pass them out to strangers

heaving with breath and anticipation
i arrived
to hear her
"youre adlan, right?"
just then my bike chain broke
and with no grace whatsoever
i tumbled down
end over end
occasionally battered
by a handle bar
a tire actually rolled directly up my back
and in my arched position
the wheel took flight as if off a ramp
at the base of the looming edifice
i was plunged into the chilled lake
clothes shredded
i covered my self
much like adam or eve would have
with wildflowers

crochet me a heart
well a heat cozie if you dont mind
i know that mine could stand to be more warm
it could beat faster too honestly
it wouldnt become faint

oh
stitch me a liver too
while youre at it
mines wearing out
bleached one too many times
thanks

**** my ear darling
i listen earnestly
but often dont hear

cobble my feet
that i am nearer

i just had a couple of years on you
but im certain we built to the same place
through vice
through falsehood
toward holding hands
cheek kisses
dirt roads
songs on repeat

weve built to this
gChat and
superstitiously deleting the book

new sheets
and the visit to where our soul
can find a harbor

not yet
not too needy

unknown entirely
not only to the throngs
but to myself as well
a shaded mustang such as myself
may never be labeled "dark"
until victory is upon me

and i plan to come from behind
from way behind
whipping a breeze along side
the champions from races past

but for no laurel
or hardy hoof shake
for only the chance to stretch my legs
lounging in pastures
has only stagnated me
but all potential must
as some point become kinetic

and here i am now
neck outstretched
teeth breaking the tape
by-standards ripping up tickets
because i was the last one
supposed to win

I lived on Heavenly Lane
And with me I brought a demon
It lorded over and corrupted
Completely
Why it followed me
I can’t say
But one night
While it was sleeping
I killed it
Or at least I tried
I’m not sure now that it
Well…
It was playing possum
When I awoke
It sat at the food of my bed
Drinking something
And laughing wildly
Sticking on itself
Things made for other people
I smiled
And hugged it
Then it passed out.

its not filthy
its just unappealing
its just the grooves
the places between the melody
that desperately need a cleaning
the tune no longer resonates
the tone dull
and crackly
its has nothing to do with
amplification
or projection
its the source material that fails me
im no good at this
at a loss for tools
which could make completely clear
the soaring voice that is love
impassioned and dedicated
but they are contained
within the outmoded technology
wax or vinyl

it could be
though
that my table is just on the fritz

im not writing anymore
***** my cigarette on the hardwood
pouring out my drink in the bathtub
lay next to a speaker until
well
forget it
sleep and wake up
3am
i dont blame them
write what no one reads

rinse.repeat.

ive been drawing for you all day
impermanent scrawlings on the white board
im just trying to keep my hands moving
so my students dont have to see me weep
because today its not going to be pretty
one of those hard lump in the throat ones
i would have taken pictures of them
the doodles
but you know how i am with technology
all thumbs if thumbs werent the only thing you needed
you keep coming to me in my sleep
and in a cold sweat i search the house
for your wet foot prints
and now your visage is imprinted
in orange and yellow dry erase
camera phones clicking behind me
performance art that hurts
wild and swooping gestures
leaving tracers to be erased

the fuzz under my ****
rattles the cup near me
the base of a floor speaker
is a poor place to be undisturbed
and from my place upon
the hard wood slats
i peer through the slots
above and to the right
to view the limbs in decay

i was trying to impress you
now im only being housed
within myself and tightly
snug

fancy trender
the algorithms adore me
bits and bites love me
girlfriends gush over
what i write
the promises and perjury i pour out
though other few find it fascinating
a collection of casual carousers
deeply drunk and delirious
leer and like
fumble through and follow
these wild words

which

long for your love
and admonish apathy
say something
anything at least
jovially jeer
praise pompously

i rest
with my hands on the home keys
derive inspiration
from insignificant minutia
and you read
and read
taking a break from your home row
hum drum
flaccid
"oh thats nice"
NEXT

dont read and not write
i give not two
i should say ***
but i wont
i dont care
how inarticulately evil
you chose to be
but you must write

say something
start a conversation
engage your fellow artist

what else are we doing here
if not to inspire
it was never an endeavor
to impress our friends
was it
we found this place
for any kind of outlet
a chance to give breath
to the lightening in our bottles

this is our march
on the collective consciousness
that could be called washington
london
but when we march
we hold hands
chant
sing
speak with one another
and form bonds
and that should be done here too

without those acts
we are protestant pastors
banging on pulpits
toward a parish
that no longer exists
or if they do
never say "amen"

amen

clumsy trip up the 17
steps to the paisley sheets
me behind you and
saying the same thing
with a new twist
"hey, know whats trending?"
"your sweet ***"
or
"you smell that?!"
to which you reply
"farts is trending"
no able to erupt
in the uproarious laughter
necessitated by turning
a tired line on its head
i cover my mustachioed mouth
with a sweaty palm
to cover the guffaw
that would most certainly
awake my roommates
you always in the lead
giving *** for tat
the style of humor
i searched for yearningly
and never found
that is
till you released wind
and then told me about it

they came
slurred and darkened
angry and
with a tinge of indigence  
let me see those clothes
i pointed to the pile
on the quilt that the ex made
dig through it
i murmured
and i sank
deep within myself
though 20's era deviants kept me
above the "sunk" place

on her side
completely silent
on mine raucous
but i can identify with donning
the drab of a different era
he said as he wrote
and looked at his phone

there is nothing about us static
nothing that keeps us from
killing ourselves only to be revived
in a brand new era
or moment of slight significance

i perform this act in times legion
dressing to impress
or to convey honest slovenliness
or power
or amorousness

this task
these efforts
can never be realized
attempting transubstantiation fails
and its motive with it

with jeans and a white tee
i am this one
lonely
lost
lingering
limitless

by all means
take all my clothes
ties and suspenders too
i have what im wearing

*******
you rattled me
i felt so close
frighteningly close
i
dont
want
to shake
or dwell
or explain it away
but i do
steal my soul from my mouth

over the shoulder squeals
giggles atop great grandma's quilt
from under the tree
that we have all hit our heads on

way up in the field
screaming up in to the sky
NO POCKET KITE
WHAT ARE YOU DOING???!
diving a dipping
then crashing
youre no trick kite!
nothing but a dollar store impulse buy
ill *** you up and stuff you back
into the belt-clippable makeshift container
the one you shamefully came in
curse you and your inadequately short string
maybe she'll have you
return you to your designers glory
not i

oh but you
i see you
soaring
string waaaay to far out
dangling above the trees
and power lines to boot
aloft at least 100 meters up
today you soared
mathew perry shoot
thats what im going to call you
parachute in a bag
to heights i could never achieve
standing in the sand
waves crashing against phalanges
in those years
over a decade back now
and you
and your potential joy provided
collected dust
in that same place that i left you
all those years ago

but i had to call the dog back up
"TESS DOG, HEEL!"
and i had to wipe the quinoa of my hands
and roll up your string
she had to stop smiling at some point
your stewardess or should i say flight attendant
smiling, no loving.
or staying.
kissing.

oh lets stay here!
in the field
atop the blossoms of berries
yet ripened
smiling
"pulling and running!!!"
under the shade tree
on a blanket
holding hands

give me thirty days though
i have some things to work out

it was going to be about them
then they walked in
one and then the other
reminiscing about getting
well
fixed to the nines
to take a nap
rinse
wash
repeat
who ******* needs
any kind of inspiration
when you
have friends like this

if i held a shaky cam
one that looks like me
and staggers and wavers
focuses on where i
would point my eye
i would shake in your direction
i would capture you roiling over
direct from slumber and smiling
blinking at me as you
awake from deep sleep
and smiling
then at night in my bed
slapping the expensive camera
and dark
then bare light
you staring away
and dark
and then in tears
i didnt know that it was possible
to shave legs with such imbalance
and eyes
and tears
and anger
dance
play
cry
pose
if you dont smoke on your back
become desperate
***** upon the place
that you made me love you
my portrait wont be complete

i love you
be still

so the aliens,
right?
they got out telescopes and ****
and they were all like
whoa man
we could totally **** those guys up
RACE!!!!
ready?
set?
and then they were all
killing each other on the way over
but some made it though right???
and there were like
monkeys and stuff
that they put their seed in
so THATS WHY were all different colors
and eyes and hair and stuff
They are really
just seeing who wins

thats why i have my AR-15

Hey, It's me
******
I'm sorry I didn't catch you
Hey its me?
did i just say that?
but
Yeah I guess that's right
you know my voice by now.
yeah
hey its me.
i just called
well
i wanted to tell you
something about this new script
its like a "slice of life thriller"
those aren't the right words
forget it
i thought you might be able
...dialogue help and so on
**** that
ill never make that movie
honestly i called to
well
apologize
for
calling
hey
its
me

your hiatus

from me
cut off the lights
and read in the dark
whatever it is that you need to

its clear
that i distract you
you get nothing done
whenever im around you gabbing

im itching
clawing my skin
getting you from under
easier said than could be done

comfort yet
just knowing it
we still read minds
youre listening from hours away

still though
you need plugs
to protect your ears
because these thoughts arent quiet

im screaming
with the electricity
firing between each synapse
and it shows through where i pace

soon though
certain of that
counting down the days
when i trade combat boots for bare foot

call soon
or write even
anything beats all this
writhing and pulling out my greys

i have even considered breaking poetic structure to tell you
that im waiting just by the phone for your ring tone
i promise to stop biting the nails to the quick
just when you give me that jingle or note
swear ill stop writing anxious poems
stop calling you every single 3 AM
cease to leave our song on loop
chase out all my cars dust
shave my whiskers
eat every meal
drink nothing
bathe nightly
dr. artist
me

im not done
but ill stop

not till the blinds shone brilliant light stripes
on the filth smudged walls
did i consider sleep an option

put down the bottle
its too bright for whiskey
here, i cant hit this again

ill just lay here and wrestle the covers
thinking but not dreaming
of nothing other than you

if you were here im sure
you could talk me down
sssssssshhhhh me till im gone

twelve and im still standing
24 too
were lost
lost in solid black
find me bellied up
ive been taking time to describe
in shapes what our space is
doodle your visage twice
right on the back of the coaster
napkin too
arm
face of the bartender
im no longer afraid of those
who espouse depth and hooves
darkness
surely if we are between the attraction of love
then our souls touch
so close that they fuse
and i can pour you from within myself
into a cup which both bites and charms

you run from through my veins
the people that i meet like you disappoint
they tell me youre nice
but i should hate you
no repair necessary
gulp
downbeat

Robot rendezvous and electric engagements
Android alimony to cyborg sexists
Weve created our technological truces
Bound tightly to this digital dance
We wont work without electronic easing
Copy and paste emotion
Upload desires
Forward your sentiments
Firewall the insufferable experience
Logout of life and reboot reality
Let the dry bones regain their flesh
The empty eyepits become filled and see
Electro-spark the cognitive cardiac arrest
And reascend the route from the CPU catacombs

i bet it all on black
the clanging of the pebble
around the separations
its the same story
i lost

long nights and love
all thats left
its not just about the dollar
its about the way
the dollar means that im yours

brother
i cannot spare a dime
this is our way
to feel like love

i cant read
so i just write
i quickly become tired
with your work
i would much rather pace
wear down the blades of grass
in the familiar place

i cant read
because while the graces of poets
philosophers
and scholars
make pretty the page
syllables dancing
atop meticulously pressed parchment
while this happens
through their beauty
i only think of you

toss the tome aside
and imagine all the ways
i can express
the things that capture and drag
the fingertips to their home
back to the place where i feel full
loved and laughed at
where i carouse and cherish

this was never about the "reads"
never about the ratio
of lit to likes
it was only ever about me writing
you love letters every day
ten max though

fact is, half of these *******
scrawlings these
are returned to sender
but crying alone
is far better than pretending
pretending you were never upset
and begging for something you need
begging doesnt only work if there is a listener

i cant read
i cant read our future
i cant give you house keys
a front or back yard
a cat box
a leash

i cant read
i write.
all 106 of them
garbage some think
but its garbage
i sealed with tears
and stamped with a kiss
spritzed with cologne
(if i wore it)

i cant read
star charts
memos
concert bills
calendars
no parking signs
or the expressions of cats

but i can write
pour out every guttural spasm
scribble every inspiration
leer and laugh toward
a glowing screen
mute and accepting
of the drivel banged out below it

i cant read
i can write things though
some things
good things
things

see what i mean??
i cant even write.
"things
good
things"
hay-seuss x-mas!

i would know
when my heart sinks
im listening to one of
the six songs that you played
pulling right into the handicap
thanks for the placard
creak open the drivers side
and waft into the carcasses
beetles flown in for late spring
jangle at the door lets me know
im home
phone and off
litter in hand
sirens
not the kindly looking ones
the ones that make you shake
by hands
arms
heart
drive home to hold him
(or her depending on your mood)
but the child...
where are you
not here
as he pukes
and giggles
i dont weep for you
or his continence
for us instead
and the way you bathe
i dont need to talk
now
anymore
this is not about love
and so on
what am i to you
something trivial
dont deny it
what else would curdle my veins
love?
or this nom de plume
the response to it?

no
its how i cant be with you
its how you deny what i offer
its what i offer to all the people
     that can read
when can i expect all you offer
how soon can i cease my own denial
very soon
i hope
pick me up
carry me to the threshold
so that i might carry you
right the **** back in
i beg

i crouched
one knee to the floor and one up
facing god and his holy host
gasping for air and dribbling
knowing everyone that ive hurt indefinitely
wishing none of it was true
taking it back with tears
hoping "were alone now"
would ever be made honest
when the tune dies down
and the crust dries
on my high cheeks
something may have been developed
my mind anew
thoughts reconfigured
life repositioned
with imaginations like these
who needs

what are those called
cousins
no
the other ones
concerns

close enough

the only thing that i care for
i ran it off
like a tabby in a window begging for a plate of fish
like a beautiful bloom i adored
and never watered
like an open door
steaming in rays from a cresting dawn
thats slammed shut

i keep the plate out now
waiting for a menacing meow
i pour water into the ***
hoping a sprig would spring again
all the doors are open now
even the cabinets
all in vain

god.
now im living begging to be annoyed
wasting potting soil
blinded by golden pain

i considered it a sneeze
more of a natural expulsion
of that which contaminates the spaces
between our mustaches and our medulla

no
something ejected and the room paused
most placed aside their drink
snuffed their cigarette
to see if you would pass away
smooth

chuckled
thats what you did after
and we breathed a sigh of relief
some glad that you hadnt seized up
others glad they didnt have to leave yet

either way
thanks

i wont buy you a triple meat again

the first word that i received from you
when my eyes cracked apart
"hatred"
between hatred and "no"
no was the beginning of the last things
there was a flurry of expressions that reminded
me of you
the real you
all things that we only whisper to each other
like a sting of cartoon hearts
"tell me youre alive"
"i hate your guts"
"secret telling sessions"
"lord father god"
but that wasnt you today
you were that overly independent
woman who
holds my hand when she wants
only to beat me in private
you dont get to pick
when you have someone
like you have me
i have no on off switch
i stay on
this is no co-dependence
this is me relying on you
for rescue from my own
loneliness
dramatization
and voice

i talk to my self in my sleep
without you
mostly jibberish
but that one percent
of real-life murmuring
that sobbing speech
MEANS something
im not sure what
quite yet
nor will i ever i suspect
im still taking notes though
but i guaran-*******-tee you
it doesnt mean things are swell
peachy ******* keen

i ask for no lap dog
but for a cohort
i desire no therapist
but for a co-conspiritor
i yearn for no nurse maid
but for an equal

a woman who
i dont have to teach
but am taught by
a fellow ex-patriot
who still believes in no borders
a woman with a skerple
ready to write on my walls

if you think that i cant hear you
youre probably right
im dreaming again
and youve lost your voice
for the fifteen-millionth time
youre acting like youre screaming
and i have my hands cupped around my ears

and when yelling turns you off
you walk away
and im the *** with his hands on his ears

chase after you
with a pad and a pen
write something down instead
but i lost my pen
and my pad is covered
in doodles of zombies

the curb is no better friend
no worse either
as cold and as hard
as my attempts with you
and your response

and THATS why people learn sign language
for dreams mostly
i have never even tried while sleeping
and if i did im sure that it would be offensive

the more that i think of it
i think that a hug would have sufficed
pluck one of your hairs
and tie it to my sleeve button hole
for it to wag alongside me
as i get back curb-side

ill be the guy wearing the...
nothing
reading poetry by street lamp light

i know
i know
black tank top
see you soon

i just wanted to dance
so close to the stage
that the dj could spit
right in my ******* eye
shaking it
so loose and hard
that people would talk about
that guy at the show
i wanted to make friends
that would remember my name
when i bumped into them
broad daylight
middle of 6th
"ALLEN!!!"
i wanted my girlfriends hands
around my hips
kissing my neck
and screaming
WOOOOOOOOOO

but really

i would have settled
i would have settled for
something quiet
i could cross my legs
sip a coffee
puff a cigarette
and listen intently to
some jangley classical guitarist
or a professional washboard player
or anything other than what i had to hear
it wasnt music

instead
instead of any of it
i trod the streets
behind my party
alone more or less
feet bleeding in search
of the elusive "show"
i never danced
i stood or sat
slumped
wondering where she was
skin crawling for a kiss

thanks for dropping me off mom