here, crawling
through blood and ****
of once brothers
too young and
too sober

deafened—
leaded
and known only by dog

for tradition
for man

absolute
obsolete
pure pride and purpose

dear ma,

death
is blind

and hell
is close to home

has anyone
died on me
my relatives are all alive
i have always said
life is short
live it to the fullest
because **** happens

I knew
the day was bound to come

however
i never anticipated when
besides

eventually


it felt exactly how i thought
it would feel

sad
angry

and confusing

the herd     moaned
three legged
broken

& the shepherd spits
           blackgold
off
silver tongue

pn
dr
ng
th
pnt
f
t
ll

t
hll
wth
t

throw my poetry in the trash and
scream hallelujah
maybe
then
I'll do the dishes

I wish I could love you
but my timing is all wrong

I already know who you are
what you love
what you like
what you hate

but
he's still there
even though
he's not

wanting is irrelevant
waiting is irrelevant

and my timing is all wrong

what if
he wasn't there
what if he wasn't a friend

what if
you were happy
what if I could kiss you on the cheek

what if
I could hold your hand
and not feel guilty about it
and only let get so you could dance in the parking lot

what
if

except
my timing is all wrong
it's never been right

I love you

here, crawling
through blood and ****
of once brothers
too young &
too sober

deafened—
leaded
& known only by dog

for tradition
for man

absolute
obsolete
pure pride & purpose

but, I am scared—

death
has blue eyes
& hell
is in the hills

holy

holy
holy—

on mesa
high dune    and tooth

bats sing

     there was a golden
     burial

howl
loud

sun    of son

there are times
to give a ****
and times
to give a ****
both of which
should just be
thrown out the window
if hank was alive today
he’d understand
what i’d have to say
and let me do
what i have to do
yet maybe i
am just a fool

isn’t something we plan for
it is just sort of
given to us
yes
we have some guidance along the way
but for the most part
it is left up to us to figure it out
we are thrown into this game
of what is
and what isn’t
just to find out
there isn’t that much at all
there is just us
being
living
getting on with ****
it’s almost comical
how something so precious to all of us
in the end
in the big scheme of things
amounts to nothing more
than what we make of it
isn’t that funny

I found a dead
dog today

so I took it home
and buried it

with the others
I have found

my head
there is a tiny stone

that I sand
knowing

it will never
be smooth

I saw her hair
under
the mountain

like dead
roots

and the birds
forgot to sing