1.
He lights another mortar
and the dog runs after it
barking and trying to bite it
he grabs it's back leg as the sky lights up
since he had barely thought to look over
and the words around here don't reach his mind
his ears defective as they are.
He says something with his hands
something foreign to me
but six people watching laugh
and so do I.


2.
His wife sits with her sons
her stomach wide with their third
another boy
she's gotten so used to talking with her hands
that her voice is rusty
and her vocabulary limited
but she's here as much as the rest
sitting and laughing and having a good time.


3.
The owner of the house sits off the side in the nicest lawn chair here
a cup in her hand
we've quit counting how many drinks she's had
but she only drinks a couple days a year
and nobody is giving her any problems
and she seems to be able to be her normal self.
She had been questioning me earlier today
seeing if I was really a good guy
testing whether she'd have to sit at the table with a shotgun
every time I spent any time with her niece.


4.
Her husband is launching his own collection of mortars off
with his brother
while her brother-in-law hands the teens the novelties
I launch off a dozen flowers
and a few spinny things.
She occasionally breaks her fingers away from mine
to launch off a flower, smokebomb or firecracker
and occasionally runs over to poke-chop her uncle
who keeps talking to the fireworks.
She always comes back and we'll wander by her mom and stepdad
(the latter always throws in some sort of comment
so we act careful around him)
and over to her cousins
or toward her aunt and roommate.
Occasionally we'll have to get something from the house
and we sneak three kisses
but we mostly just stay in each others arms
keeping each other warm in the almost warm 4th of July night
our hands both entwined
one of our heads always on the others shoulder
and in all the craziness
all the family drama
everything is perfect and she's smiling so hard her cheeks keep hurting
and she keeps telling me how little sleep she's gonna get
and I tell her I ain't gonna be able to sleep at all

Enunciate your words
We cannot hear your muttering
What was that? There
There seems to be something wrong with my mouth
What was that? There
Seems to be something astray

I think it was a cat.
A frigid black cat.
I think it was a cat
there.

These shadows shade
the temporal rifts
of mind
these temperamental taps
of mine

D-d-d-do y-y-y-ou want to adopt a kitten?
D-d-d-do you want my kitten?
I have a litter

Spew the garbage from the pipes
scrub the grime off the machinery
unclog the arteries

keep it pumping
keep it pumping
everyone loves a good ****

(poem not for the modest)

1)
Susan is envious about
Mr Ron’s rich-red tomatoes
just over the fence;
and Susan asks how he does it
“Oh,”* says Mr Thorn, “I expose myself
twice daily to the tomatoes
and they blush and so they are red
Try it with your vegetables, Susan”

2)
It’s three weeks later
and Mr Thorn asks over the fence:
“Hey Susan, how are your veggies now?”

“Well,” replies Susan, *“tomatoes are the same
Oh but you should see the cucumbers –
my, how they've grown!”

thoughts flit through my brain
gathering wool,
getting stuck
in the crevices
absorbing sense
that occasionally leaks,
and I end up
writing poetry.