regular delivery
it arrived with the standard 8 vertices
rigid and battered
******* box

i kicked it around the house
oh bout two months
maybe three
till i got sick of lookin at it
it started kicking me back
hard as hell
and right where it counts
you know what im talking about
chunking it out the window
never worked
just re-delivered
i had to sign for that *******
every time
my john hancock is all over it now

i should open it
rip back the crumpled packing tape
and just peer in

and when i did
and that rip stopped echoing
in the cave that is my room
and the moldy ***** were pulled back
the cavity was exposed
a cool gust shot up
curled back my mustache
and made me grin
like i just saw a russian blue
do a back flip

funny too
it smelled like you
sweet perfume
and that ***** drawer whiskey
i gasped and tried to **** it all in
to ghost that hit of you

i stuck my head in
to get all of it
licked the inside of the cardboard
for each last scrap

i made each fold into origami
crane
dragon
turtle
rabbit
so on

and just before i knelt down
to pray for another breeze in a box
i opened a window
and sat with my feet dangling
grinning with you all over me
sure that a wind
would soon blow up from the south
warm and loving
fragrant and laughing
to smack me
just when i need it most

it shook there above his head
all ten fingers
sweaty palm too
quivering so as to make
you do the same

sometimes thats all it takes
to make an orphan like you
burst into the tears
that only a child can cry
the gut-wrenching kind
the ones that make you seize up

that'll teach you
that will make you thankful
that your mother and father
took that midnight stroll
through the hospital
while all you and your peers
were adrift in slumber
stopped
and shot out a finger in your direction
"her. shes the one."
"i got to pick you"
he would say later
that'll teach you

who would you have been
last name calahand
wandering the contiguous forty-eight
lugging dads guitar
and waiting with a glass of milk
bellied up to the bar
with your new "uncle"
smoking someone else's cigarette
singing back up
playing tambourine

sure as hell wouldnt be here
opening up your home
your life
your heart to me
sure as hell wouldnt have cooked me breakfast
ice water
and toast
and that beer of mine
sure as hell wouldnt even know each other
or this town
this life
this love that sustains us
or at least tries to

thanks lady [insert unpronounceable last name here]

Alluring,  illustrious, wondrous bird! ...

                                                            ­             Transformed vexation to sing before dawn!

I'd rather be

somebody's need
than
           simply
                       a desirable commodity.

Something's off.
Something's strange.
I cannot see,
nor Rearrange.

I feel it near
Pressing my heart
Only to wonder
where does it start?

Is it in the sky?
in the trees?
or could it rest
within the seas?

It stares and follows
Without a care;
My eyes go searching
my focus tears

No matter where
No matter how,
it stalks my conscience
Here and Now.

All my trust,
All my hope;
It's mindless talons
with these elope

It nags my sleep,
It nags my wake-
Were I to run
my breath it'd take

When I'm to lie
in my bed
it lies right over
my eyes- blood red

And in my wake,
I stop and think
with every word.
at every blink.

Walking- a rock
within my shoe
pulling it out
so easy to do

Yet this fiend
makes me believe,
No worthy to heal.
never to relieve.

Maybe ticks alone
will save-
Or maybe tocks
help find it's cave.

Never leaves.
never goes.
forever here,
my forever clothes

contained within
it glistens and is illuminated
radiates from my teeth to my ocular orbs
not the sun
not the one that makes the ivy creep
or the blossom open and become fragrant
but its mistress
the sphere of the night
pounds light from beneath the chest cavity
but this derivative
compels all those like us
in the dark
to hold hands

this is the moon
my insides are worshiping
one and one without
and the one with in
like our nearest star
the love within me
is only a reflection of the truth
that one that you imbue
hold true
and fast
towards the surface within me
that is reflective

my heart is the second moon
moon two
only as it speaks to me
and me and me to you
and you reflect upon me
and i shine and enshrine
my soul is made true

its not work if youre playing
youre using all ten
but me?
me?
im doing two thumbs
what im doing
practicing being articulate
literally ornate
is so much like the melody
that you bang out with ten
the creativity ratio
ten to one and two to one
but yours is extensive
and mine
mine is too plosive
sharp
dissected
and yours lofts
and swoops
tricks the ear
and swirls

nothing pushes us this way
in this direction
not a person directs my fingers
or yours
and yet there is something to be assimilated
something to take home
a bit to stick under your pillow
the fairy will trade it for a nickle

take off that ring
its clicking on the keys
thats what we said to each other
the click gets agitating
but i tie a knot on my side burn
a ribbon really
and grin

welcome back

this all could have been mine
geometric shape wallpaper
and dashes, dots on my sheets
mom making my bed
smoking non-filtereds
and staring in the direction of
old globes and stuffed squirrels
posters of campuses i should i have attended

shirt no pants
no shirts
scribbling something partially worth reading
legs crossed
listening to that song for the fiftieth time
ashing on the floor
waiting by the phone for you and only you

but this isnt home
i didnt grow up here
i slept here
i embraced those who meant something
i giggled till tears
dripped into my oil paints
but even watered down they were made of use

a spring in this bed is
right the **** up my ***
springy is what they call me now
ill scrape those stickers off
a six inch blade till dawn
and i would be no closer

to those days where i cheesed
where you begged for me
where i began to loose myself
where i became less of a person
and more of a character to you all
cartoonish

no
my home is not here
and if you try to get me to own
a single element of it all
ill decry it
i know its not healthy
but i was thinking
that i could make up the difference

in my bedroom
not only with my hands on you
a gentle graze
or light and deserving
application of the pucker
but with my pen to pulp
and a gush to the world
so that a secret might
be known to us all
not just me

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