My dad's old friends came round to our apartment sometimes,
would come round for some beer
and a guilty look at my mother’s ***.

Today, as usual, she let them track mud through our little house, cackling like hyenas
and pretending to admire the art on our walls.
She let 'em do it but then we all went out on the porch and they started to tell me, as mama looked on with pursed, painted lips,
bout the time my daddy’d -
well i never ever did find out what my daddy'd done
*** that's when she slammed down the case of beer
on the patio table.

All three of them paused to look at her.
It was like she’d turned them all off, with a button that she kept hidden in her *****.
for a second they realized how sad she must've been,
they realized he probably shot himself right upstairs
and then they looked at me
like I was a dead little boy
wearing my daddy's eyes.

I missed their merry smiles and table slaps punctuating each joke
wiping the sweat off their foreheads with their wrists and
leaning back in their chairs, flicking their lighters against their cigarettes and
savoring mouthfuls of chewing gum and dip,
'*** now they were still.

“Now don’t go tellin’ tales to John,” she said, and doled out a few drip-cold beers to shut them up.

They washed the stories down with her drink and just forgot about it,
or more likely,
they'd started thinking about that button
burrowed between my mother’s *******.

Sure as the rising tide,
I'm sure to change my mind.
Much like an aurevoir,
I signify goodbyes.

Sinners fester better in the church,
those Sunday vermin
Pay rapt attention to the sermon,
Those ratdastardly *******
Listen in rapture to the pastor,
Go straight home and beat they meat after
Describe their niece into the searchbar
So they can watch some actors clap her.

What am I?
Insignificant.
Who am I?
Undetermined.

I guess I'm just a riddling troll under a crumbling bridge.
I'm angry as ****,
And I been for a bit.
******* and **** me too,
And **** all this ****.

I counted meticulously each mark on your marred body
Realization: More freckles on your left hand than days we had left together.
Shedding tears: in the Japanese restaurant.
A couple of them fall into my Miso; you scold me.
I'm sorry.

inside: me,
standing on a stranger's pool table,
swaying to trap music like a ballad,
but humming an AC/DC song
to the cheers of
my fellow drunkards.

outside: men,
fighting in the pool
punching, splashing
smiling while grunting.
blood from a burly one’s lip
mixing with chlorine. I think
I spot a tooth floating around in there,
but it could be a trick of the light.

pushing eighty, planting daisies, life has
rung you like a towel. once before,
your heart would beat for men and the fear of
dying alone. now that you are doing
so, it’s not as bad as you’d supposed.

you marvel that you are alive, you think
sometimes that you have died, for you
are pale and peaceful as a corpse.
you pat the mulch and cut the weeds and give
back to life what it unduly takes.

A divine creature sweetly dying
(The swan with sprained wings
and bald spots from digging her broken beak into the skin beneath the feathers)
Falls apart no more or less gracefully than a China-made toy.
Her pieces, once disassembled, make tragically languid laps around the surface of the lake.

Arbitrarily I decided that day would be THE day,
The day I stopped loving you.
I decided instead to go floating.
But to be honest with you,
I didn't feel like a swan.
I felt like garbage.

As the day grew to night, I realized it —
No one was coming to pick me up.

silk & saffron cylinders basking in the still light
as thoughtlessly as a blue jay bathes in his bird bath
as a brave baby bites his mother's breast
as i watch you from a house across, you stretch silently awake
your rib cage glimpses the light for a moment, looking like
marks of fingerprints
but then they dissolve, disappear back into your brackish depths.

i knew i was unseeable first when i was five
watching my mother undress for him and then him and then him
and then again when i was fourteen when my eyes
were wide and white as snow against the unlit room
but still my sister couldn't see me staring.

who you wonder
is leaving love letters in the mail, envelope licked like its glue was being
tasted?
who, you wonder, is throwing rocks into your house of glass and
why?
why? i'm a ghost, woman,
and I need to **** something in you
to make me live again.

"head over to mcchick’s for some grease poppin,
show stoppin chicken tenders
or some chill,
dead air

check out this
beige wall, y’all,
check out this
puddle of soda running through the clogged arteries of the tiled floor
who wouldn’t want to work here?”

“shut up brandon
you’re fired.”

You haven't quite lived till you've bred.
At least that's what my old doctor said.

He said, 'You haven't quite lived till you've greyed;
Not till youre weathered, abrasive, decayed,
Not till you've worked your own bones to the grave
And believe life's a grand play without meaning or make.

'Doctor, I feel bad,
Negative, scared.
Sometimes I don't bother
Brushing my hair.'

'Ah yes, I've seen this,
Many times before!
Clearly, you're INSANE! I implore you not to attempt a self refection.
You need my own intervention.'

He called my soul's crying a shocking anomaly.
He gave me these pills that 'will give me autonomy';
'You've got to be medicated in this **** economy.'

I got a new doctor, but that doctor ***** too.
Why does this happen to me? What should I do?

After tender feelings fade
And hard ones follow suit
I still think about you babe
And I still think you're cute

After we knew for certain
We were done being in love
We closed the final curtains
And pushed it all under the rug

But darling I adore you
Even more now than before
And sweetheart I implore you
To remember what we were

his brain is full of bugs.
he just woke up one day
and there they were.
the doctors can't tell him how they got there.
"do you
uh
leave your window open at night?"
yes, he says, sometimes. but how'd they get - he points to his head - in here?
"do you
uh
leave your skull open at night?"
he thinks about it.
I don't know, he says.
"how do you not know?"
in an X-ray of his brain,
they find flies, roaches
wasps, beetles
daddy long legs
and even
a praying mantis or two,
among other things.
one of the nurses
vomits all over her scrubs.
they give him meds for pain,
and he tells them that really it's more like an itch than a pain
but gets a prescription anyway
‘*** the doctors won't sleep that night
if they don’t do something.

when he tells his mother the news she is shocked,
tells him
that his father had bugs in his lips
that stung when they touched hers
and his father's father's fat fingers
were so fat only because
of all the butterflies.
"all the men in our family,
all of ‘em,
but when you hit 22 and I'd never heard
a single chirp of crickets from you
I was hoping."
she gives him a banana before he goes
*** he says he's hungry
from all the blood loss.

he soon gets his first serious girlfriend,
not the kind
he never calls,
not the kind
he tunes out
when she talks,
but the kind that tells him:
"I am so damaged I can barely love,"
and he stays.
he is the kind of boyfriend that,
when his ticks tick her off, and he says:
I cannot think
long enough to fix this,
because of the buzzing
of bees in my brain,
she will leave
without much hesitation,
because
who wants to sleep
next to a man and his mosquitos?

The struggling fish flopped about, needlessly,
As the starved hawk cawed in distance near.
Slapping its ugly flesh down repeatedly,
Drumming funeral songs on bespeckled pier.

The bucking trout stopped breathing,
Unconsciously consumed by dismal fear.
As its respiration grew more measly,
The hawk’s path twinkled crystal clear.

Above the sea, the hawk glid greedily
As the wind’s whipping arms flailed ceaselessly
Above the sea, the trout stared beadily
As the sea’s mouth foamed and fizzled tearfully.

The belly of the bird, how it churned so needily
And the belly of the fish, how it tore so easily.

The small-bodied, spotted sparrow
Perched perky on my red wheelbarrow.
All day she spent pecking recklessly at my red paint –
**** that peckish, speckled devil-*****!

My brand new wheelbarrow, chipped!
A certain someone had to pay.
But that scheming little ***** had dipped
As soon as I'd seen the decay.

I cried hard inside my domicile,
Wishing witch's curses on that bird.
I wish she'd die by homicide –
A gruesome death would be preferred.

i asked for your 2 cents
you said "sorry dude, i'm broke"

pavlov kicks his snarling dogs,
stomps their greedy, hungry paws!

mendel needs his daily greens,
so he eats his ******* peas!

around around around we go;
we would prefer not to know.

we've been living off
stale corn chips
dust particles
and termites

the tower of pisa
stacked beside ma's bed
she won't put them in the sink
let alone wash them

i know she's up all night
'*** i'm up all night also
twisting and turning
and stephen colbert

you count our money
with shaking hands
we've got enough
to live comfortably
but not enough
to be better
"I've never had to live like this,"
haha
all right
come on, the realtor is not your therapist,
and by the looks of the off-color carpet this is not our house

"the pool was misshapen."
what about the other one
"kitchen too small."
what about
"can't afford it."
ha ha
well
ok, the tires cut into the road as we head on
the next one, you say, will be ‘lit’

hey, look
that ones for sale
"the crackhouse?"
uh no the normal
the normal house
"bad neighborhood,"
wow
must be hard
being
so good all the time
“i just want this to feel like a home!”
ha ha
well
i just want
a divorce at this point

Last night I gleaned the bean within a dream
I picked him up, to sneak a closer peek:
Small in stature, held in high esteem,
I ate him with a sense of awe indeed.

He fed me with protein and fiber -
Without complaint or expectation!
I washed him down with apple cider,
And shat out their amalgamation!

Lovely as all beans can be essentially
Teeming with a truly wholesome beauty
He hugged my gut somewhat caressingly
As he made his patient trek right through me.

Such a fine gentleman is rarely seen;
If only we could be that bean!

an art museum learns all its works are fake
and renames itself the museum of forgery

another few pounds of coke are found
in another school teacher's house

a local boy's laughter
sounds like a cocking gun
so he gets shot in the head

A lover is no answer
A lover is a person &
Not a means to quell
The darkness
A lover is just a lover
A lover is no shining sun
(The SUN is the shining sun)
A lover is a puddle in which
To splash dry feet
But a lover – a sun?
A lover is just a lover.

I don't drink much, he
Liked that, that's cool
I poured back a ten pack whiskey
The next week, clarifying
"I don't drink OFTEN".

When I do drink, I shatter very quietly
I go off like a gun, he,
My makeshift silencer.
I tell him I "struggle" –
With what?

A life is no brazen leopard
(A life does not charge)
A life is no sad song
(A life does not comfort)
A life is a life (and
That's it)

Later, he
Fell into my arms stumbling
I told him a lover is no answer
He didn't like that
I wondered, is this it? (It was).
He kept searching
(Like a bloodhound
But a man is no bloodhound)

I stopped, still and sturdy,
A table's leg, to ask:
"Is this it?"

After all these
Years, I
Think so,
Yes.

A little despair got in despite my locked doors and windows
Despair buzzing through my apartment like a mosquito
I put on some Jazz and, pressing my ear against the speaker,
Listened until I heard something new:
Tinnitus.

Despair
Bore a sense of smug entitlement
Spread out with an impudent disregard,
Cooling carelessly its hot thighs on my Italian leather

I admit to inching closer,
And tweaking for another taste
It reached its warm hands over
Towards my pallid face

But nobly I pulled back before
The thing made me its prey
Then I sat there waiting for
Despair to go away

Love's embrace, once gracing comfort,
Encased in blackest shadow slumbers
Through the sweetest, softest pleads
And leaves hearts heaving, wrought with need.

A creature's wail for understanding,
A confusing nuisance to the neighbor.
A gruesome scream all too demanding,
Taken lightly by a stranger.

If love could do a dove one favor
And reassure it of its safety,
Maybe she could quit her labor
And fall asleep just like a baby.

Though strong bonds ensure endurance,
A chirp unheard turns quick to hurting.
Deserted birds incur the worst things,
Left to wonder if it's deserved.

A foolish choice two hearts arrange,
Songbirds sing without an aim.
Love, which always starts with play
Ends mainly with its victims maimed.

That's just how it goes for most:
The greatest wave degrades the coast.
Still, we light potential tinder,
Hoping once, love stays for dinner.

His parents, so wrinkled they crinkle as they walk
Die a little more before his eyes each dreary day.
The engine of his humble Honda, which propels him to his moderately paying career at Some Office,
Has been producing increasingly strange sounds.
If it breaks down now, he won't be able to afford the vet bills
For the one-legged burden he never actually wanted.

God have mercy on this awful creature
Whose wife does not **** him,
Whose daughter does not love him!

The abominable man, made from supple flesh, brimming with consciousness and autonomy, gifted with a tremendously tender human soul,
Marred only meticulously to allow for contrast and distinction –
This incredible creature, crafted by a most divine creator, was designed, unfortunately,
Mainly to toil in complete vain!

Most nights his subconscious
Gifts him the same dream:
Sirens sounding, feet pounding
Suburban pavement, he's just rounding
The corner and another group of police cars are
Staked out waiting for him,
So he drives straight into the nearest vehicle
And dies blissfully.

The man, upon waking,
Dutifully forgets his dreams,
Careful as he is
Not to be carried away by escapist whimsy –
7 am on a Tuesday, though,
Is an exquisite time
To eat a wheat bagel
Before cutting your lawn.

Departure from a dream shook my body
And as my brain forced re-entry, I raged
After months of senseless self debate
And with certain truths uncovered
After much undue confusion
Recently, I reasonably concluded
That love is one unfeasible delusion.

We briefly stop arguing
five hours into the road trip;
exhaustion reigns
over resolution.
I lean my weary head
against the window
and lock eyes
with a French bulldog
******* mightily
on the sidewalk.
Its owner notices me,
furrows his brow,
and menacingly clenches
his grasp on a plastic bag,
which I assume he uses
to collect the dog’s waste.
I avert my gaze
and look anxiously
back at you.
You had been looking too;
now we are laughing.

routine as morning rooster's call,
death stares us down unblinkingly,
with the faint sting of alcohol.

without much willingness to brawl,
virility, agility,
or much of anything at all,

how could we be bound by thrall?
how far goes durability?
where has it gone, our wherewithal?

forgetful trees lose leaves in fall -
our lovers leave consistently,
routine as morning rooster's call.

He leaves in a hurry
I need him to stay
Otherwise worry
Becomes my day-to-day

A dozen short poems
Forgiveness abound
In order to show him
I want him around

I tell him I'm broken
I need to be fixed
He says that he's hoping
I'll get over it

Good men penniless,
Bad men rich
Where there is ignorance
There is bliss.

Treat people like passengers,
Whether friendly or cold.
These varied guests don't matter
As much as your soul.

It's only fair – they'll treat you the same.
They'll take heapings before leaving
Just to smear your troubled name.

Dreams are nice, but unlikely;
Illusions will mislead you well.
You will think, 'Everyone is like me
And those who are not, I can tell.'

Indeed, beware illusions – they are passengers too,
Treat them as such.
Don't let them take over your home,
Sleep on your couch,
Or raid your fridge.

I know you're sick of hurting
Patience turned into abuse
I don't think that I'm done learning
My boundaries are coming loose

My father was a rigid man
Stern and didn't give a ****
I know that you're nothing like him
But still, it fills me to the brim

My mother is no sound of reason
She lets me push her till she cries
She never taught me boundaries
Or how to pay a price

I don't think my heart can handle
Ultimatums and goodbyes
But I can recognize
I've been crossing lines

No one else has cared
Enough to stay and try
I was so extremely scared,
I called my mom to cry

She came over and held me while
You were still asleep
I told her I just didn't know
What life has made of me

Uncanny is an understatement
I don't think I grew from three
But if you can tend my soil with patience,
I'll sprout up slowly like a tree

I don't mean reproach or blame,
I just can't take the cold goodbyes.
I see and understand your claims,
They travel through a troubled mind.
I need safety, release from pain,
Which comes out in crossing lines.

I read the words I said to you,
And most of them were lies.
I don't recognize myself,
I don't believe my troubled mind.
I know it's no excuse,
I know that it's not right.
I get caught up in such abuse
Convinced that otherwise I'll die.

(I've never seen myself like this –
A broken mirror I can't fix.)

Having mistaken my bruised face for a sunset
With its bashful hues of yellow, purple, red
I went to touch it, for a moment
Then wished I'd touched the moon instead.

(I have a feeling like none other
A feeling which makes sense
When I raise my fist and cover
My body up with dents)

Beauty is somewhat subjective;
You cannot argue that.
I find this method most effective,
My body as a punching bag
Which never can fight back.

"Always fighting some demon
Always finding some reason
Not to off yourself
******* and get some proper help."

My therapist says I'm acting strange;
I'm in awe of her professional insight!
I'm rabid as a dog, deranged
But "all you need is sunlight!"

I know the things I have to do
Clean my room and body too
I just can't get it through my skull
What don't I comprehend?
You think me dull because you're full
Of **** and not my friend.

Abject misery – trashpile and **** –
Things whoever said and did –
Overthink and reminisce –
Until your brain collapses in.

Onward goes The Will, they say –
Like Wind persists throughout the day
Without a thought, a choice, a say –
A slave to Will, Till our decay!

**** a man, a woman too
For percieved wrongs they did to you
Score matters more than life or death
Beat them till there's no one left

Roam around the streets with bats,
You still won't get your lovers back

'I can't lose you' all you want,
But love is not a greedy taunt

'I can't leave you', all you say?
Just give up, he's on his way.