"chevrolets" poems
How it is fickle, leaving one alone to wander
the halls of the skull with the fluorescents
softly flickering. It rests on the head
like a bird nest, woven of twigs and tinsel
and awkward as soon as one stops to look.
That pile of fallen leaves drifting from
the brain to the fingertip burned on the stove,
to the grooves in that man's voice
as he coos to his dog, blowing into the leaves
of books with moonlit opossums
and Chevrolets easing down the roads
of one's bones. And now it plucks a single
tulip from the pixelated blizzard: yet
*itself is a swarm, a pulse with no
indigenous form, the brain's lunar halo.*
Our compacted galaxy, its constellations
trembling like flies caught in a spider web,
until we die, and then the flies
buzz away—while another accidental
coherence counts to three to pass the time
or notes the berries on the bittersweet vine
strewn in the spruces, red pebbles dropped
in the brain's gray pool. How it folds itself
like a map to fit in a pocket, how it unfolds
a fraying map from the pocket of the day.
May 2, 2014
May 2, 2014 at 6:02 AM UTC
when fair
swings with
Chevrolets so
children rush
there when
some peanuts
are fired
when nights
begun barbs
that Randall's
humor still
in stride
when a
plause would
take center
stage with
gossip y'all
Feb 4, 2019
Feb 4, 2019 at 9:06 AM UTC
Imagine yourself
a ball of wax
falling through
a cosmic crack
a ball of steel
both reflecting
and holding all that's real
part of a parade into a cave
chanting about monks
who in their trunks carried enlightenment
too light for longing
too heavy for moving
and there you stayed
what
would you really want to say?
And would it matter anyway?
Imagine yourself
a ball of wax
falling through a cosmic crack
a tiny Katamari
calculating
as you rolled along
picking sticking
lawn chairs, Chevrolets
dancing flames
poets in their heyday
accumulating
distant ideas
lover's lips
and strangers kiss
all kinds of suffering could stick.
Could you find your way home
or is this all you've ever known?
***** of wax could be real,
manufactured ideals,
splendid ribbons of illusions
unwinding and weeping
teaching taking talking twisting
through those cosmic cracks splintering
Relax
This is a a relaxation exercise after all.
Imagine your self a ball of wax
falling through a cosmic crack. ..
Jan 31, 2014
Jan 31, 2014 at 10:06 AM UTC
Oleander sips
Saturated leaves
Acid lake's disguised under oak
trees.
Sprinkling of cocoons
And fuzzy bumblebees.
Sugar magnolias like
freckled galaxies.
Sippy cups with rainbows
and an antique bucket
Tangerine trees and golden
lockets
Lynx spotted engines
of Chevrolets
Darted dandelions in a
Summer craze
Jun 21, 2016
Jun 21, 2016 at 6:25 PM UTC
i grew up in a room with movie posters and glow in the dark butterflies, drawing faces on the walls with chalk, and never straying far from my kingdom of bed sheets and pillow cases.
you grew up praying to god that the thing you called your family wouldn't break like everyone else's had, and hoping that the places you traced your fingers over in your dusty atlas actually existed.
but your dysfunctional family did break, and your 3rd grade teacher told you that those far off destinations were real, but that it was unlikely you would ever get to see them all.
i grew up on historical fiction, penny boards and rock and roll. My only god was springsteen, and i held faith in the belief that i truly was "born to run."
you were raised on pick up trucks, bluegrass tunes, and the moonshine that your father turned to after a hard day at work. you were destined for a life full of nothing and clocks stuck at 2:59.
happiness had always come bearing sticks and stones and run down chevrolets, and all the rain signified was that it was time to open your grey umbrella again.
you only ever saw me in black and white, and i've always believed that i speak the language of loss far more fluently than most people i know.
Aug 27, 2013
Aug 27, 2013 at 10:09 PM UTC
It happened one night when I had been drinking
I didn’t mean to crash into those Chevrolets
What can I say… I hadn’t been thinking
I hope that in court, I can be convincing
But it feels like a nightmare, I was in a daze
It happened one night when I had been drinking
I could barely see the road, rain had been sprinkling
Or was it a downpour? The streets were a maze
What can I say… I hadn’t been thinking
I can recall the way I suddenly felt like I was sinking
It was not my intention to set those vehicles ablaze
It happened one night when I had been drinking
When people look at me, I can feel myself shrinking
I didn’t expect my driving to result in such raze
What can I say… I hadn’t been thinking
That was the night I should’ve started rethinking
Those shots I was shooting, glasses of those cabernets
It happened one night when I had been drinking
What can I say… I hadn’t been thinking
Oct 20, 2015
Oct 20, 2015 at 1:35 PM UTC
just on down from the edge of the horizon
on the cusp of a seam between midnight
and tomorrow a tied wire deliminates
white from black and wrong from right
left from left out dark from the other side of the moon
purple haze
from M&M;
from good & plenty
barbie dolls and Chevrolets from
GI Joes on ecstasy armed with grenades
exploded from ***** hands.
Dec 7, 2014
Dec 7, 2014 at 2:08 AM UTC