i feel my father as silence
always standing
ahead of me
never
turning around
Lie still little rabbit
your hummingbird heart
holds you

saying
it’s okay -
     it’s okay -
          it’s okay -

you lie still.
Benjamin Woolley Dec 2017
why be great
when you can
be mediocre

celebrate your birthdays
drunk

a cake your step-mother
baked for you
Betty Crocker
add eggs & water

while the good die young

find a stray dog
bring him into your meagre
home

week-to-week
while unknown numbers
ring ring

atone

learn to sleep alone
write alone

seasons and calendar gods
numbers
bones

turn away
smile alone

share with a stranger
arch-angel of one

forgive yourself

play the lottery
(if you like)

lose and lose
ache and ache

embrace
come undone

out of gas
miles from home

a few more steps
grown
Benjamin Woolley Dec 2017
that unending
grip
stomach
throat
that everything can be taken
away

the day
you pegged the
cottontail with
your
22-rifle
unaware
until

short breaths
between
eyes dart
quick and eternal
riding the edge of the
moments
death waits behind
Benjamin Woolley Dec 2017
when the
air stands still
overhead
- stale in 112 -
nothing happening
everywhere a
stand-still like
a bright room
all the cockroaches already
ran out of
the unchallenged fluorescence
freakish & bizarre
riding rascal scooters

holding in
your breath only seems natural offensive to
stir
a sea of death

living and dying
are often paired
up
living condemned by optimists
proudly dying "is living"

cherish instead
those bold cynics
above
such rationalization
content to push death
as
far
from
living
as means make available
Benjamin Woolley Dec 2017
always-too-cold-metal-handle
the refrigerator door
opens with an elastic jolt
never easy
always excessive
violence pressed deep
into squeezed palm
whether you go:
slow or fast;
never easy
whether:
anticipation jerk
and  rip through
resistance;
or tear slow with quiet tenderness
pops

this can't help but leave you
a savage.
Benjamin Woolley Feb 2017
Bukowski
you poor tortured soul
you saw the truth
that life must be simply
endured
the woman doesn't call
the neighbor dies
patience
have a smoke
wait for the settling of things
in the bottom of your
whiskey glass

given enough time
we're all dead
let it sink into you
the worms and the dirt

stretching between the hands of a clock
eternity and oblivion
turn on the tv and shut it off again
let boredom arrest you
breathing on your neck

the moments between you
and the last woman
you had
felt and unfelt

another will be along for you
or you will be dead
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