"bozeman" poems
I pierced my septum
with a magic bullet.
Is Texas really the reason
the president’s dead?
I’d give anything for a scotch
despite never having had one.
I loaded my gun with Pall Malls
and shot my brother dead in the woods.
That son of a ***** is the Able
to my Cain,
the scissors to my paper.
Pap has no son.
**** Huckleberry,
lying piece of ****
I scratched my *** with steel wool.
I drew blood,
(in pencil haw haw)
I’m tired,
despite being well-rested.
I ****** everyone in Gomorrah
over spring break.
Add salt to my pillar.
And you say I’m *******
immature.
Get loaded
in Bozeman.
I hate that you hate me.
The KKK wasn’t
this spiteful.
Dying on a burning cross,
I confess my sins
to Richard Dreyfuss
and ********* on
Judas.
He wipes it off
with the Shroud of Turin
but the streak is still there.
I sold my brand and licensing rights
for thirty pieces of silver.
I ******* came on Judas.
I never did anything to you
that you didn’t do to me.
My dad is bigger than
yours.
I’d abort myself
just to get a reaction.
I’m going to hell,
but at least I’ll finally eat
at the cool kids’ table.
I’m done fighting
with people I don’t speak to.
So how about you just hit me,
you just
*******
hit
me.
I’ll launch into whatever the **** I want.
I’ll ******* SOAR,
like a ********* 747,
I’ll **** birds into my engines
and spray their guts wherever
I please,
because I’m finally done being manipulated.
**** I don’t think
I even started.
Jan 18, 2013
Jan 18, 2013 at 10:35 AM UTC
Aaron Evans - Magic
I love you, I really do
Alex Forte - ****
**** you
Alex S - *****
I hate what you made me become
Andrew T -Beer
Do good in Rehab, dear
Austin Kearns - Lake Water
really?
Garrett A - Pretzels
Burn in Hell
Garrett F - Soy Sauce
I'm so sorry
Hunter G - Cigarettes
You still turn me on
Jason H - Bubblegum
I kissed you out of pity
Jeff C - Water
I'd still Hate **** you
JJ S - Ciroc
What a regret
John Bradshaw - Football
How is Pennsylvania?
Johnny Bozeman II - Marlboro Reds
I just really ******* miss you
John Butler - Coffee
Don't ever touch me again
John G - Sugar
I'm sorry I ruined it
Julian R - Cherry Popsicles
Thank you for freeing me
Justin B - Cheap Wine
*******
Justin Haupt - Mint
I really enjoyed all the free *******
Katie Moorman - Red Lipstick
IloveyouImissyouI'msorry
Kyrstin Bruce - Grey Goose
I don't like kissing you
Mario Luppachino - Pool Water
I would've ****** you in my car that night
Michael H - Hash Brownies
Stay Away
Ryan T - Want
Kissing you made me *** in a school hallway
Rusty H - Need
I still wonder what became of you
Sam R - Mistakes
Heard you're a father now, congrats
Sean Ellis - Berry Hookah
sigh
Steven Spence - Gasoline
I'm a **** person and so are you
Taylor Vaughn - Sunset
Go back to your baby mama
Tim Hoback - Hangover at 7 am
You made me breakfast and gave me your pants
Trevor W - Candy
Time is a funny thing, huh?
Tyler Farris - Missed Connections
If I was a little prettier could I have been your baby?
Mar 10, 2014
Mar 10, 2014 at 3:51 PM UTC
I’m sorry you were the result of seduction
I’m really very good at it and I used you
7 years my senior and supremely illegal
you were hesitant to kiss me
Because you've been to jail enough
and didn't want to see a cell again
but I still unbuttoned your shirt
and traced the tattoos on your chest and all the way down your arm
spilling out onto your hand
and I still love the way it felt to sleep naked in your bed
and have your window half open and hear the rain pouring down
as you packed yet another **** hit at 2 am
and we always started movies we never got more than
30 minutes into
because of the way my fingers tested your willpower
and one night we were watching pulp fiction
and I still cant remember a solitary scene
and im sorry
and one night I came over
and you handed me a Marlboro Red and a cold 40
and asked me what my drug of choice was
and we taked about how the
acid in your spine is resting for the next 7 years
and your pupils were dilated so much so I could not see your pretty irises
and I guess what I’m saying is
I love your 24 year old self
and how you made me pizza
and let me wear your favorite shirt (and that’s it) around your house
and im sorry I always left you in bed
when you tried to pull me closer into you
I should have just stayed
and you would always say
“my pillow smells like you, come back. I miss you”
and I stopped dropping by your house in January
and I stopped talking to you
but sometimes at night I dream of the ink on your skin
and how you got hit by a bus
and how you called yourself the antichrist
and how the last four digits of your cellphone number are 7666
and how we ****** so hard I would pull the sheets off of your bed
and how you always kissed me in the small of my back
and the curve of my shoulders and
imsorryimsorryiloveyou
Mar 2, 2014
Mar 2, 2014 at 8:39 PM UTC
Past
closed up pizza joints
Past laundromats, through the dying noise
the nights tick on like clockwork
watch the calendar as my steps unwind
I'll wait for my thoughts to ferment
pick my words, hope I don't slur them.
Flip back past the page of these days
get a read how I got to this age
From the summit where I'm stuck and posted
reread the books where I come the closest
From the shelf spill my guts to ghosts here,
and relive old nights in Bozeman
When I found a place
where the nights grew longer--
grew confident that I wasn't always wrong
and just drank the moon
under dawntide tables
rolled the dice with the greatest friends
we said, "We're not old yet."
Through
crumbling bones at night
past skeletons of the city's size
the nights fall out like sand grains
curse the hourglass as my fate unwinds.
I'll wait for my brain to discharge
its contents on hospital charts.
Glued the book shut, stuck in the time
I gained my crutches and misplaced my mind.
From the bed that I'm ******* glued to
to cluttered basements I can't wade through
The foundation just won't hold up
against the cracks formed in Missoula.
Ran off the rails
where I stumbled and stammered
grew comfortable beneath pint glass hammers
I still drink the moon
under dawntide tables
grown apart from the greatest friends
who said, "You're not dead yet."
Jun 3, 2014
Jun 3, 2014 at 11:41 AM UTC
That night we
decided that our streets led nowhere,
so we followed them any place.
Apartments
to grass outside the Molly Brown,
cracking faces, sidewalks, traced our way...
North on 7th,
getting warmer.
Inverted frowns
are getting larger
Now
I'm wondering if these
half-formed
flimsy, brittle life-plans
and
half-drained,
dented, warming pint cans
of Schlitz
clutched inside our fists
suggest that it's worth it
To pin our hopes on approaching
footsteps of Summer?
Or just halt our frozen
progress through the Wintertime
when we reach your front door.
We just kept
decoding all our scrambled rambling
'til we'd set the world on its head.
Keep walking,
keep laughing at our young mistakes,
sober night backdrop to beer soaked breaths.
X'd out eyes
and gravel sidewalks.
Bozeman Autumn.
Watch out, mailboxes
'cuz
We're wondering if these
half-formed
flimsy, crack-filled answers
and
empty,
drained, five dollar pitchers
of Pabst
humming 'neath our caps
will help us draw our maps
and stick a pin in the Summer,
page turned on Winter,
or just melt our thawing
progress to another time
when later days trickle down.
Oct 21, 2015
Oct 21, 2015 at 4:49 PM UTC
He is the greatest gift on earth *** ******* lovely manly
ballyness and cockness you have no idea.
Oct 31, 2014
Oct 31, 2014 at 3:52 PM UTC
It was the kind of love
where when her heart would beat
blood would pump through my veins.
Nov 11, 2021
Nov 11, 2021 at 1:55 PM UTC
The way that Villard Street composes a tease I take every time,
as if I'll get all the way to Bozeman Creek;
drive my car into the culvert and wash away a year or 15...
Or how the trees on South Willson won't let me forget
the bookstore I loved before, back then--
_Back when?_
...when it was there. Never mind.
Leaves breeze-swaying/dancing to the rhythm of a laughter
caught bitter in a swelling throat.
I remember a reminder. 7th & College. I'm not supposed to be here
by now.
A future my youth had rejected.
Never signed up for.
There's a piece of my fingerprint removed; it's shaped like
Scott Street--like rain in Osborne Village.
There's a piece of my Gallatin ghostwalk that's the color of Polo Park Mall.
It makes a Province of sense, but States nothing at all.
I'm invisible here.
_Might be there too._
But my insides--my infrastructure--were built for Corydon Avenue
and the R.M. of East St. Paul.
You-me mailed a promise to me-you back then
_BACK. WHEN?_
NEVER MIND.
from this Cat pawed zip code to R2E 1B9 and then what?
_been a long time_
Been a while for brown eyes to run dry. Drag my blue through the mud on Pembina Highway,
Dry my tired center out and sew me up, I guess, with
a stitching
of 11th and Alderson. Try to debride these festering wounds
I gave myself, back in Kildonan or sliced open on Bird's Hill Road.
_Had long enough to heal, ain't ya?_
I guess I've had long enough
May 23, 2025
May 23, 2025 at 11:34 AM UTC