The plum I’ve been waiting
to ripen
is a bit past ripe; in the fruit bowl,
the bananas speckled brown;
the lemons show no sign of age.

Monday morning I forget the plum,
which now may be a bit too sweet.
Thursday,
I buy fresh produce
on the way home.
I get a call
from my father
about my mother.

Forgotten,
beneath brighter flora,
the plum
in royal colors
sits in the bottom of the fruit bowl.

At home
two Google searches:
what to make with past ripe plums
why don’t I cry when someone dies

I stretch, and stretch
up towards a place where my head is far
further above so
that I cannot hear the jet engine of your words.
I hear my bones creak
with the effort to get
away from the pollution
of your coal train ramming me.
I hear only my body
cracking like spring ice
as I rise, rise -
rise above your noise toxins
that settle like limp and sodden cardboard crowns
worn about your tortured head.
High above your hollow community
above your entitlement park,  
above your tiny-
tinny voice.
I hear it. Your hateful sounds like poultry jibber
so far down in
atmospheres
below.
I laugh to hear your wordless squawl!
I stretch but  now to bend
and see you
beneath my squishy toes.
Bend at the waist
to see who's nipping at my ankles
and I cry a tear of mirth.
A white rapid that
whisks your bitter apple groove
far away.
I stretch you gone.
I stretch you indifferent.
I grow myself pardoned, I grow my self free.

sahn
2/15/15

priest nor sinner
just me alone on this stool,

24 oz of drool left
one pen and a full
notebook.

scribbled full by nicotine
stained fingertips
digging through an ashtray
for one last ****.

three days of ***** dishes
awaiting my attention,
(i have more spoons, so)
I peer into this CRT
looking back at me
with only one page
remaining, available, left,
to explain to the world,
how I felt.

/
Many and
Many years later
My Poetry books
That I had lost
From the middle of the bookshelf
Within Thousands of many other books
Where I have found
 
Utterly Unknown
Some Pages
Yellow
Pale
Is very difficult to read
Yet quietly reading
I read with a lot of the force
Crawling.
As a Small child walking
Many years later,
Understand
Know
Become that Strange Poem

The Poem
Showed me Dreams
Told me to Love
Strikingly,
Bought all the Colors of my Canvas
Drawn your Images
That happened,
Many and
Many years before
In my Heart and the Soul

Then
You and I
Grew as a highly Sophisticated
Metaphor,
In an extreme
Cohesion,
Nice One

My Heart put on your Heart
In a Romantic Tune
Bode on a Small Boat
Toward a Tough Sea,
That happened,
Many and
Many years before
In the Song of the Sea

Then
Sudden Sea Storm Came
Made Substantially Vortex water
We Drowned
Lost you
That also happened
Many and
Many years before
In this Sea and my Soul

Today I have found you again
In a Sprung Dream
As I lost you
Many and
Many years before
As if I'm standing
On the Shore of the Sea
You as a form of Sea Angel
Come forward to me-
/
@Musfiq us shaleheen

in school
we learned about hydraulic fracturing
when they would send pressurized chemicals into the earth
until the earth began to “frack”

well that’s what i felt like
when your words rained down upon me so hard
my brain began to crack

Little girl,
you are not the scars on your thighs
or the mocking stares from "friends."
You do not live to be there for others;
you are your own galaxy, beautiful-
unknowable even to yourself sometimes
and that is not entirely a bad thing.
As you grow up,
you will learn to appreciate
the complexity of your solar systems
and you will not need to open up your veins
to see the planets hiding underneath your skin.

Little girl,
this pain will not last forever
and if I could, I would go back to you-
little girl sobbing naked in a bath tub
she turned red with her own blood-
and I would lull you to sleep,
spare you the tears and the scars and the ache.
But your pain will teach you lessons
that no happiness could have;
one day you will rise from the ashes
like a phoenix, wings held high,
engulfed in the flame of your former self.
And you will be so proud.

Next stop, outer space.
I take pictures with you in bed,
All white and silky. All cold and bright.
There's a gravitational pull in this club.
I didn't think you'd leave me,
But I knew.
I'm not feeling anything, today was pretty numb.
Beer, depression, flower crowns in your wasp like hair.
I jiggy on down to that dub.
Makes me happy.
Strudels, makeup, that cute lil stain on your cotton polo.
You're ready? For this marriage?
So I can wrap my little arms around your ripped waist. You're mine.
I'll never eat.
Cookies, gummy bears & worms,
All of that is lovely, but not without you.
Tickle me with words.
Cherish me with gold that cannot be seen.
Fill me up, but don't let me down.
Throw my summer hands up in the warm sky.
Feel that shaky breeze in my hair as my neck bends back.
Is that BBQ I smell?
Ride that convertible with the hood down.
Blast it.
Crop tops and two boys in the back.
Why not take a trip to California?
I don't have much,
Brain is fried to the dark meat.

I’m Charlie. Aren’t you?

You draw and I write,

Sometimes we are wrong,

Sometimes we are right,

Sometimes it’s too much,

And sometimes not enough,

Sometimes someone’s angry

Or calls our bluff,

Or threatens to **** us,

Or kills us indeed,

But we don’t surrender,

Although we may bleed.

Our ****** just strengthens

Our courage to fight,

Our passion to laugh,

Our desire to write,

Our deep love for sharing

All things that are true.

Today and forever

I’m Charlie. Aren’t you?

AM