John Lee Townes nodded sadly, knowingly
From his perch at the Come On Inn
Heard the ambulance boys
Needed two trips to get her out
(But John Lee an untrustworthy witness if there ever was one,
Prone to drunken blackout and sober embellishment
One step from rehab and two steps from the loony bin)
Though the facts at hand
Were short on gore, long on the mundane;
Peggy Rabish (her possessions few, her jewelry cheap)
Was found bruised, but not ******,
Lying in a profane yet oddly peaceful position
Of mock prayer or sleep.
As passers-by gawked,
Whispering inventions, plausible and otherwise,
Concerning jilted boyfriends and rich aunts,
Rummaging through their own memories
In search of credible alibis,
The state boys, diligent and professionally bored,
Secured the crime scene in their yellow-tape fashion.
Suspects?  One trooper barked, ****, just look around here.
****-heads, drunks, welfare cheats,
You tell me who the hell isn’t?
The park manager nodded rhythmically, disinterestedly,
Half-listening as he turned his collar up against the chill,
His thoughts focused in filling this soon-to-be empty lot,
Vacancies and felonies being equally bad for business.

Oh yeah that’s right we met at now where was it
Uncle Skinny’s funeral now I think that
was now when was that dear? Oh, it
was at Cousin Verlis’ wedding okay
I’m sure stove up from my last surgery
yeah, me an’ Bubba worked the tugboats for years
Then he fired me we lived there for years
but sold the place and we’re still living there
now it was all flooded up there to where
the Baptist Church was so we couldn’t go
they say Interstate Ten’s a mess this summer
we need to go I got to take my pills
that’s why rice farmers just leave their combines
in the field to rust ‘cause the government’s
all mixed up in it I guess there ain’t many
of us left we all grew up together
I got me this new gun now where’s my ‘phone
Oh it’s in the truck I’ll get it
                                                 now here
I can’t make this thing work I know it’s in
my pictures oh there it is wait it’s gone
we need to go I’ve got to take my pills
now was Cousin Skeeter buried with his parents
no wait that was his son joined the Marines
but they kicked him out ‘cause he was no good
we need to go I’ve got to take my pills
now they was both buried in California
I guess I seen ‘em in 1968 last
These chairs is too low I’m all stove up
I don’t know why the government ain’t prepared
For hurricanes they dug this big drainage ditch
But what if the water backs up along it
Then what am I going to do
We need to go I’ve got to take my pills
I ain’t never met a stranger, no, sir
That’s what they always said about me
Now when I was in school if I had said
“computer” they’d-a sure-’nough kicked me out
We didn’t need all that stuff we learnt just fine
We need to go I’ve got to take my pills
(a ten-minute monologue about a couch
goes here) so I ended up buying a new couch
my first job was with Caterpillar but
after ten years he left and went to work
down’t Port Arthur now if you’re ever
down our way be sure to stop by
we’d sure be glad to have you come on by
We need to go I’ve got to take my pills


[The morning’s interrupted projects and chores
Are resumed, but somehow in a milieu
Of existential despair.]

We built our home in the high tide sand.
Four crumbling walls where we mourn
the death of a love stillborn

Painfully aware of the waves.
Just a few fleeting months
to live out a lifetime of loving

And I can't ever find the words
or the literary comparisons
to convey how much you mean to me
the magnitude of your presence

You're not my Juliet
I'm not your Romeo
You are not Annabelle Lee
And I am no Poe

I never know what to say
Maybe I'm just sick of missing you
before you even leave
Maybe this isn't the kind of pain
we both so constantly crave

Maybe I'm Prufrock
Maybe you're a mermaid
Maybe we're both drowning
in a sea of terrible voices

And for the record,
I don't need any help realizing
That I am a hypocrite.

I've got a solid grasp
on everything that's slipping
out of my fingers.

I don't act like anyone but myself
It's not a role I'd recommend
but at least I'm not tortured
by what people don't see

I embrace the patterns I generate
In my downward spiral
and I don't blame anyone
but myself

I awake from night terrors
and scrape through the day
i'm failing that's fine
can you say the same?

Geometry melting
Prismatic projections
love songs on repeat
Strangest friendships
Stranger still, our suffering
Anamolous Uniformity, this heartache
that which we all desire
the love you love until you hate
the hate you love but only on your saddest days
a hand to hold, a concept still
a heart in your chest, or so you're told
A watcher always -- your lot in life
Emburdened steps by the light of Orion
Stranger sighs this lustful hatred of life
as if there were nothing else - nothing more
so much more or so we hope
worldly compensation for cerebral sorrows
that which we all feel -- at the bottom of life
at the bottom of it all
and here we all culminate -- in this strangest of places
all that we are -- all that we were & will be
so much more and so much better than it could have been
and at least for that we're grateful,
at least for that we can make amends
at least for that we can find some meaning
at least for that we've found our home.

We drank tequila straight from the bottle
and danced naked in the unfenced backyard

We chainsmoked the entire pack
And argued the difference between harassment and assault

We passed around the **** pen
and I don't remember what we were doing by that point

We woke up still naked
and asked ourselves if it was worth it

Don’t love poetry
Because you’re on a hot writing streak;
Love poetry because you love poetry
And poetry loves you back
In all obstacles, times of staring into space,
And inspirational thoughts and ideas.
Love poetry because of the partnership
Between you, the author, and poetry, the bioluminescence
Of the literate ocean.

Don’t love life
Because you think you’re living the best one.
All lives are unique;
How troublesome it is
To consume time in chasing what only others
Can see and do accordingly.
Outside of being instructed,
Work, any kind of daily routine,
Create your own steps
Not by “hitting it big-time”
But humbly walking where you are
And embrace the sights right where you are
Because even the tiptoes of a journey
Lead you forward and allow you time,
Not for all views, but at least seeing one ordinary view
As glitzier than glitz itself.

Don’t love anything
If the reason you do is to impress anyone or everyone.
When you do what you do,
The truth will strain the ones who scoff
But leave you with the one(s) who see your heart
In what you do.
Live. Be open. Respond. Love. Stand your ground.
You’ll be surprised what or who comes around.

Sometimes
in the mornin'
dawn awakens
unquiet heart
    swaddled
   in a dream ―

       and
      i hear
    a whisper
    from a voice,
gentle as a burning
      candle,
 sing to me softly
without words

... a stirring
moment ripples ―
an unholdable dream
    fleeting;
    lapping
wakeless silence;
... vanishing , . .
    swilled
by the daylight
   just beyond
   closed eyes
     awoken

    and now
 it's only me
      again



words in the wind