Can you hear the buzz in the air—
the electric charge? See a flare
lighten up the roadway to your death?
Are you ready to take your last breath?
No? What a dull, boring affair...
Get out of the way, far from here!

and nothing
- no -
can touch you here.
you need to know;
you want to hear.
lagoons of time
- pearlescent-
in all directions;
omnipresent.
we waste our tastes
in saline haste to swallow
something more than hate;
to anchor all,
to simulate;
the weight of tears
against the odds
of breath and flesh.
that safety net
defies the length of sentiment,
and even yet...
you hold yourself in present tense
to sweat,
resent,
repent.
and so,
you starve and fret.
in the dead of night
you petrify,
resist the air that rents
and gasp:
what was that?

Forever falling
Through the open hearts of outstretched arms
Tunnel vision of the past
Paves the roads ahead
The off-ramps of destiny are untamed, forgotten, and overgrown
No safety awaits me, and
There is no shelter under the roof of a broken home
Storms chase me, but
In thunderclouds I drown out the world
Wanderer
Weary of only the weather
Inside his own reflection

flashes in the dark.
matches scratch,
little fires arise.
bread browns,
fish sizzle,
the scent of coffee boiled in cans.

a clatter of knives,
tobacco clouds,
a lapping on the rocks.

before,
that vastness of sea.
behind,
the frozen wastes;
that barren of broken dreams.

they are so very far from home.

one stands,
watches,
points an arm toward the glow
of crimson afar.

they cross themselves,
ready the tackle
and stand,
knowing they may not return

but hunger is unkind,
and death makes no exceptions
for sailors.

Dangerman
—a buyer and seller
of mostly himself

Petticoat
—a ***** on the take
and about to slip

Each made promises to the other
but both loved journeys
and valleys
and limericks
and turntables
and spirits
and skirt-raising
and slowdives
and lip-biting
and come-hither
more than their here-and-now vow

Trigger-happy begetter
with an ax to grind
killing captives slowly
with jagged little things
it's the strangest sound
in spite of the plight of
the ringing in his ears
it never fades away

I reckon numbers and lead are arbitrary
to a button man
whose wheels turn circles
mainly in his skull
revolving/rouletting
as infinite go-around

Never mind though, the time must be now
for a show of hands

Motherhood waited in the ship's hold
until the treasure hunt
brought her to this final island
a choice between gold
and the aging ******

The young who suckle at her breast
might one day run mum through
with the sword at Payback
—that unsteady little homestead
where profit and loss
share the same face

Never mind though, the moment must be now
to ring the bell

And raise redemption
like a burning flag of regret

A Jolly Roger

swings its way through the reed beds –


the ducks flutter up.

please note: t/w: violence

-

dear mister life-changer
how have you been?
i know you never answer
but i wanted to try again

introducing myself for the fourth time
i'm a small girl with big dreams
my dad walked out when i was real young
my mum hopes i'll have an easier living

i'm in kensington, philly
it's not a nice place to grow up
with drugs, gangs, and guns
my older brother once even got mugged

i'm writing from my little closet
my mum said it's for me to be safe
but i hate being alone in this place
it's such a small, empty space

a couple of gunshots outside
it's like this every other night
brother's not home right now
but i sure hope that he's alright

there's a clicking noise
it doesn't sound very nice
i hear footsteps down the hall
they're not mum's, they're too light

mister life-changer, i think that might be my brother
he told me you could make things right
but why don't you ever write back to me?
why don't you ever reply?

i want to tell you my dreams
i heard you can make them come true
just give me one chance, sir
it's worth it, i'll show you

i dream of a big wide world
where i can walk outside and not be afraid
a world big enough for every little brown girl
to skip down sidewalks and enjoy the day

i hope to move to the suburbs
buy a big house for mum one day
buy her leather bags and pretty dresses
and not a single cent she'll have to pay

-

dear mister life-changer
i'm sorry there's blood on this paper
mum's bleeding out in the kitchen
someone shot her at the counter

mister life-changer
they told me to wait
i called the life-savers
they said, just wait

i don't know what to do
so now i'm back to writing to you
will you ever make a change?
will you tell me to wait, t—

and if i die tomorrow don’t worry
i’m already used to hell