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the handcuffed man is not two birds.  he says as much on body cam.  his family is one woman howling offsite at those clamoring for an open forum on the etiquette of howling.  his sister desperately wants to ask a question.  her god pauses before speaking.  her god begins with god as my witness.  her hands are done being raised.

lists* (iii)

with what there is
of my tongue
I think
to reach
the back
of my head

-

televised

offsite, a cat
bathes
its softened
image

lists (iv)

a bruise
on any
visible
child
is

the father’s
jump
on winter


lists (v)

the rare
the black
the eyes
come in threes

as mini reunion number
XLV fast approaches
Saturday, April 30th, 7:00 pm
until 10:00 pm
at The Trappe Tavern, 416 West
Main Street, Trappe, PA 19426
regarding graduating alma mater
brought to forefront
of my awareness,
though yours truly,

one generic beetle browed
fool on the hill,
and paperback writer wannabe
will not attend
haint gonna rile nor roil
ghosts from yesterday,
when all my troubles
upon cusp of rock and rolling
existential helter skelter prevailed
across universe of mine.

Although heavily steeped with fiction
trace amounts of factual essence
underlies the following account.

I spent remaining years of mein kampf
in quasi penal solitude
under strict surveillance of
jail wardens Boyce and Harriet Harris
both parochial parents of mine
long since passed away.

While comfortably and numbly housed
at 324 Level Road,
(an offsite facility
linked with semi progressive
incarceration modus operandi)
since razed to make room
for vinyl city,
yours truly shunted
from one to another institution,
albeit of higher learning,
which did nothing to alleviate
(their) constant harping
about Marxist slapstick brotherhood
regarding "dictatorship
of the proletariat".

I lacked fortitude and courage
to whether blistering punishment
falling short, and giving little weight
carrying out commanding orders
approved by presidents
elected and inaugurated
since 1976 until 2000 respectively.

While imprisoned for
abandoning being filial son
shirking household responsibilities
such as domestic chores
and property management,
cuz the estate of "Glen Elm"
incorporated approximately
some half dozen acres,
yours truly displayed
passive aggressive objection,
which behavior of mine
considered non compliant
essentially dereliction of duty
found me sequestered
within spacious bedroom.

Aforementioned safe space
offered singular identity guard
against brutal assaults
that actually began upon
onset when I became
sixteen years young
and immediately expected
to acquire gainful employment.

No such ambition existed
absolute zero  degree
of self confidence existed
to secure a part time job
(mainly on weekends),
nor did this then
long haired pencil necked geek,
(whose grungy appearance
closely resembles his younger self)
who back in day made any attempt

to foster effective hygiene, study habits,
time management, et cetera
especially completing assignments
in a timely manner,
hence practically failing,
and getting promoted
courtesy skin of his teeth,
which original set of choppers
replaced by snug fitting dentures
crafted by well trained technicians
schooled at University of Pennsylvania.

Many a pitched (emotional) battle fought
and attaining eighteen revolutions
around the sun
ultimatums (to get sent off
to the Gulag Archipelago)
materialized as empty threats.

Corrections and legal guardian
merely by dint of biological reproduction
officer Boyce gave vent
to his (sic) infamous midnight lectures
circa ~ late 1970's until early 1990's.

I dreaded every malevolent utterance
when father requested he speak
not about some choice topic de jure
that brought a twinkle to my eye
but that all to familiar monologue
finding me standing like stone wall
hearing, tuning out with equally
predictable trademark demurely meek
pose with hands crossed against chest
of this then painfully easily intimidated lad

despite feeling effects of utter ennui
and fatigue attempted to stand tall
against the tsunami verbal typhoon
itching to drown out said battle creek
when asked capisce? comprende? farshtayst?
looked blankly at floor well nigh
or pretended to stare at something
extremely fascinating on the kitchen wall
for he may as well asked if I understand 
in an unfamiliar language such as greek

most likely getting successful results
yammering away at common house fly
possibly seething inside (p’raps
equally swatted) ready
to lash out into a brawl
held back by fear plus in comparison
to me pop – just a itty bitty pipsqueak
felt onrushing of overpowering desire
to collapse and cry
compounded by growing urge

to urinate from natural urethral call
spoke nada word, nor gave hint
of hearing from loathsome
blather that did reek
like decomposition of fetid of dead
living entity that began to putrefy
which offal to mine ears, tugged impetus
under warm blankets to crawl
for remaining time on Earth!

Needles to say (er... or write)
neither warring party successful
though the cruel monster
no doubt wanted to mash
his veritable flesh and bone,
thus in retrospect
subsequent silence
declared pyrrhic victory.

Basket of deplorable (me)
never befriended any classmate
nor partook of extracurricular activities,
hence he failed to become linkedin
with peers, and would most likely
revert into socially withdrawn state.

as mini reunion number
XLV fast approaches
Saturday, April 30th, 7:00 pm
until 10:00 pm
at The Trappe Tavern, 416 West
Main Street, Trappe, PA 19426
regarding graduating alma mater
brought to forefront
of my awareness,
though yours truly,

one generic beetle browed
fool on the hill,
and paperback writer wannabe
will not attend
haint gonna rile nor roil
ghosts from yesterday,
when all my troubles
upon cusp of rock and rolling
existential helter skelter prevailed
across universe of mine.

Although heavily steeped with fiction
trace amounts of factual essence
underlies the following account.

I spent remaining years of mein kampf
in quasi penal solitude
under strict surveillance of
jail wardens Boyce and Harriet Harris
both parochial parents of mine
long since passed away.

While comfortably and numbly housed
at 324 Level Road,
(an offsite facility
linked with semi progressive
incarceration modus operandi)
since razed to make room
for vinyl city,
yours truly shunted
from one to another institution,
albeit of higher learning,
which did nothing to alleviate
(their) constant harping
about Marxist slapstick brotherhood
regarding "dictatorship
of the proletariat".

I lacked fortitude and courage
to whether blistering punishment
falling short, and giving little weight
carrying out commanding orders
approved by presidents
elected and inaugurated
since 1976 until 2000 respectively.

While imprisoned for
abandoning being filial son
shirking household responsibilities
such as domestic chores
and property management,
cuz the estate of "Glen Elm"
incorporated approximately
some half dozen acres,
yours truly displayed
passive aggressive objection,
which behavior of mine
considered non compliant
essentially dereliction of duty
found me sequestered
within spacious bedroom.

Aforementioned safe space
offered singular identity guard
against brutal assaults
that actually began upon
onset when I became
sixteen years young
and immediately expected
to acquire gainful employment.

No such ambition existed
absolute zero  degree
of self confidence existed
to secure a part time job
(mainly on weekends),
nor did this then
long haired pencil necked geek,
(whose grungy appearance
closely resembles his younger self)
who back in day made any attempt

to foster effective hygiene, study habits,
time management, et cetera
especially completing assignments
in a timely manner,
hence practically failing,
and getting promoted
courtesy skin of his teeth,
which original set of choppers
replaced by snug fitting dentures
crafted by well trained technicians
schooled at University of Pennsylvania.

Many a pitched (emotional) battle fought
and attaining eighteen revolutions
around the sun
ultimatums (to get sent off
to the Gulag Archipelago)
materialized as empty threats.

Corrections and legal guardian
merely by dint of biological reproduction
officer Boyce gave vent
to his (sic) infamous midnight lectures
circa ~ late 1970's until early 1990's.

I dreaded every malevolent utterance
when father requested he speak
not about some choice topic de jure
that brought a twinkle to my eye
but that all to familiar monologue
finding me standing like stone wall
hearing, tuning out with equally
predictable trademark demurely meek
pose with hands crossed against chest
of this then painfully easily intimidated lad

despite feeling effects of utter ennui
and fatigue attempted to stand tall
against the tsunami verbal typhoon
itching to drown out said battle creek
when asked capisce? comprende? farshtayst?
looked blankly at floor well nigh
or pretended to stare at something
extremely fascinating on the kitchen wall
for he may as well asked if I understand 
in an unfamiliar language such as greek

most likely getting successful results
yammering away at common house fly
possibly seething inside (p’raps
equally swatted) ready
to lash out into a brawl
held back by fear plus in comparison
to me pop – just a itty bitty pipsqueak
felt onrushing of overpowering desire
to collapse and cry
compounded by growing urge

to urinate from natural urethral call
spoke nada word, nor gave hint
of hearing from loathsome
blather that did reek
like decomposition of fetid of dead
living entity that began to putrefy
which offal to mine ears, tugged impetus
under warm blankets to crawl
for remaining time on Earth!

Needles to say (er... or write)
neither warring party successful
though the cruel monster
no doubt wanted to mash
his veritable flesh and bone,
thus in retrospect
subsequent silence
declared pyrrhic victory.

Basket of deplorable (me)
never befriended any classmate
nor partook of extracurricular activities,
hence he failed to become linkedin
with peers, and would most likely
revert into socially withdrawn state.