"bolus" poems
Places where I go to conjure still mystifies me because when
engulfed in smoke and whirling mist, time slows and stops then moves again.
Some small strand of self slithers out and looks about then returns with small inspiration
Some morsel or crumb.
An otherly finger pokes in.
It plants a seed then stealthily recedes
The road lurches slowly then smoothly , tilting this way then that way.
Questing, cohesion. A bolus of inspiration.
With sticky tendrils gently unfurled
This thing makes made odd.
My wife looks at me as if,as if, as if.
Always been a bit odd.
Oblique. after all.
Weird. Round peg in a square hole.
**** it.
.
Oct 3, 2012
Oct 3, 2012 at 3:14 AM UTC
Blued, nickel reflecting light,
Shining on the Reaper.
Frosted steel
Open-mouthed,
Longing to swallow
A half-dozen biscuits
1 part Copper,
1 part brass,
2 parts lead,
1 part saltpeter,
1 part charcoal,
1 part sulfur,
The recipe for the dough.
Once masticated
in jaws of tungsten
It spits the metal bolus,
And gives new name to grim.
Sep 21, 2019
Sep 21, 2019 at 9:02 PM UTC
Think piece. Jot, quick clog. Up the drain, sink ship in slime. Thyme and rhyme. Soaked up in the roots of the crock, the juices on which we dine. Sipping sustenance, sour; sweet. Fueling erosion. At the boarder of the mouth protective boulders crash down. Uneven ridges grinding, pounding. Whale tongue in a sea of spit. Belly-up. Maniacal pupils wide, about the circumference of crockery laid out and on and on ahead of ye. Into the distance it never ends. Cut cook chew cut cook chew cut cook chew look at you. Being stopped and squeezed and pushed. Always controlled, each little segment. You little bolus travelling. Sphincter sphere choked of air. Melting in the eyes of identity.
Jun 4, 2015
Jun 4, 2015 at 6:15 AM UTC
my body misses you more than i do
no, no,
hold up,
before you accuse me
of being a *** addict"
or only "wanting you for your body"
hear me out
when i say my body misses you more than i do
i mean
when we
started being more like a you and a me
i didn't like it
but neither did my body
TMI but
my stomach hasn't been so well
going to the bathroom after every meal
and nausea kinda follows me around
it's hard to lift my feet off the ground
i feel heavy
like i don't know to explain
what that means
but basically
my knees are buckling
and there is a bolus of food
stuck in my windpipe
it's getting kinda hard to fight
last night i started craving
fried food and sugar
and okay- maybe that's just ***
but like
my period is a good ten days away
that's not to say
that it shouldn't be this way
but
it shouldn't be this way
i got onion rings
but then threw them all up
because i could smell the oil
there is downright turmoil
in this body of mine
its definitely not fine
i wonder if i have bulimia
but that seems too simple an explanation
there's more to this situation
yesterday we talked
and i felt like i could eat
a three course meal and keep it
but now,
****
a bite and i run to the bathroom
is it food poisoning?
i doubt it
because if you were here right now
i would be fine
all that aside
my heart is crumbling
my chest is collapsing
i can feel my ribs
break and buckle
because they have no use
left anyway
with all that heart break
and ****
so
i miss you
i do
but my body does too
Feb 8, 2018
Feb 8, 2018 at 1:35 PM UTC
Why do I still feel drunk
Why is it that the trashcan and I have become best friends
Why am I still so dizzy
I didn't go past my limit
Last night has many holes in the story
Did I really do that or is it a placed memory
How did I come to having my shoes off
What would have happened if I didn't have my friend
How did I make it home in the morning
A twenty minute drive took sixty
Couldn't hardly move when I made it to my bed
Except to lean over my new friend trashcan
Call a bud come help quick
Line started, bolus given
Stay until I crash
Hot/cold, shivers and hallucinations
Thank God for my night friend
I could have been a statistic
Roofie it may have been
Mar 6, 2016
Mar 6, 2016 at 3:54 AM UTC
Is this not death?
The souring of bolus settling its
way into the fringe of my gut.
Air hanging like the noose that it is -
Baptized by morning dew as if to say
"Come on in. Have a little faith"
Street lights take on demonic shape
It's the forever hunt of spotlight eyes
in heat for a soul to mate.
And the faces;
The countless mazes that have
entwined for far too long to form
an improbable labyrinth.
One shoe over the next
Once again today and tomorrow
for as long as the eye can wonder.
Is this not hell?
May 11, 2017
May 11, 2017 at 7:59 PM UTC
The earth moves
according to its natural principles -
I love you according to mine.
Youth has left us so quickly -
the sun was once
a sweet saffron bolus
we swallowed so eagerly
fat day after day.
Now it's a quiet yellow *****
that chokes on its own easting and
goes down like a horse pill in the west.
Instead, we are with moon -
I pull you close sometimes in tide,
then you're away waning, waning -
doldrums, tantrums.
If only I could swing low over you,
in your green rain town,
& not be pushed away.
It's no longer easy
to share the days with you.
I fill with ulcers
that bleed all into me,
the body the echo of the mind.
But I love you on natural principles -
you have touched my life all over.
Where I go, I bring you;
you are still the voyage home,
even when your replies come
so terse and lacking invitation.
Mar 30, 2021
Mar 30, 2021 at 9:23 PM UTC