"earpiece" poems
a stripe of asphalt on the blanket of green
I stare wordlessly out into other people's lives
peeking past the violet-tinted windows of the freeway
as your chat-chatter spills from your coffee cup
filled to the brim with handshakes and impatience
You clutch your earpiece tighter, scowling
as I trace the horizon across the glass
smudgy fingertips that sigh boredom
and the Mexican workers in orange vests
peer back at me curious and wave
turn to their left and shout something in Spanish
tongues dancing, slick with dust
I smile as they crumple their lunch sacks and
pitch them down into the rubble then hoist
brick by brick, stone by stone
no natural-made boundary
into the chalky air and perch for a while
to mop the sweat from their brown
creased faces and sing rowdily to their neighbors
and the immobile in the SUVs
You lock the doors fast
and pat your hair into place
I've got no time for this construction
you say, can't they build this highway somewhere else?
as you drum your fingers along to the siren song
of CEOs and business connections
You're just the same as the rest of them.
Man forever building bridges
that will only topple down.
Jun 23, 2010
Jun 23, 2010 at 7:26 AM UTC
It's their way of living
that you have no right to judge
"It's spring and summertime.
Blossoming flowers along my jogging route.
Cherry blossom trees too."
"That's nice. We have a cherry blossom tree
at school as well."
"The flowers weren't blossoming last time I went jogging.
The cherry blossoms are only pretty for a couple of days.
The trees down there look so dead all the time.
They weren't dead last year when we moved here."
I wondered if I ought to take off my earpiece.
"Yes. I agree."
"Your father ought to stop buying junk."
"Yes, he ought to."
"Has your mother always been skinny?"
I nod and stir the same old *** of instant noodles.
I like my parents just the way they are.
Curiouser and curiouser.
"It's their way of living
that you have no right to judge."
Apr 18, 2022
Apr 18, 2022 at 12:56 PM UTC
your laughter is interrupted
and the punch line crumbles onto your lap.
as you answer your phone
the chair hardens
svelte
to skeletal.
every corner in your bones
grinds
against every edge of wood.
as the earpiece exhales
the grey seeps in from the dusty dome
and a wheeze of cloudy cold
floats, foggy, over the sill
and freezes firm your loose lips
before a smile can stretch them.
you rise
and the door evaporates
at your touch
a droplet
to your violent,
expanding
gasps.
the croaking in your ear
feeble
but ‘fine’
traps your tongue
under stacks of pennies.
your heart
singular
sympathetic
beats fast enough for two
bodies.
you stand on frail, fractured leaves
and try to cram crutches
and buttresses
through a receiver,
but your fumbling fingers
won’t speak.
your neck buckles
and bends
under the heavy phone
call.
back inside
teetering on your bony seat
you try to sit on your hands
scoops of your scattered words
‘my leaving
was the healthiest thing
that has ever happened to her–’
foreign and
hollow.
Mar 10, 2013
Mar 10, 2013 at 1:10 AM UTC
A famous alumnus is visiting the university. I got an invitation several days ago to a small, socially distanced, masked, focus group. It was to be early on a Saturday morning - so, why not? I was excited to see her - I’m a fan.
We were a diverse group of about 20 (covid tested before admittance) students and I was in the back row. Seating was offset so everyone could see everything perfectly. I craned and swiveled, when her entourage came into the room. Then, there she was - I’m sure I was grinning ear to ear (behind my mask), we clapped, excitedly. She wore a navy business suit. A jacket over a black blouse with slacks and black shoes.
She gave a talk, about the challenges America faces. On YouTube, her speech-giving voice always seemed artificial, cold, harsh and brittle. Here, she was low-key, motherly, whip smart, personable and humorous - everything I had hoped for.
Then there was a question and answer session (NOT easy questions - did I mention whip smart?) followed by a no touching reception line. And *** she’s a foot away. She seemed a lacquered and corrected sort of person - professional - I guess you’d say.
Everyone was gently elbow bumping with her, so I did too. You’d say your name and class. “Anais Vionet, freshman,” I said. I wanted to say “I’m a BIG fan” but I thought I might come off as either fawning or even worse someone bent on wasting her time.
We both smiled, me behind my mask and I bobbed a goodbye nod, but as I went to step away she said, “How’s your Grandmother?” I was shocked but I managed to say, “She’s fine, thank you.” To which she replied, “Please tell her I said hello.” I just nodded, “yes” as a sort of “I will,” and stepped away.
I glanced around, there was no handler by her side and she wasn’t wearing an earpiece - how she knew me I have no idea - but now I think she’s considering a run in 2024. My grandmère would be a whale of a donor.
What a bizarre encounter.
Feb 5, 2022
Feb 5, 2022 at 12:25 PM UTC
One day, I went to a doctor’s clinic
with a chief complaint of headache,
but he didn’t mind me being sick.
Instead, he lit a cigarette and took a break.
I asked him “why are you
insensitive to me while being so attentive to the patient who just left recently?”
But all he did is, he pointed at the window…
There I saw that patient took off with a BMW.
Then he started getting my history,
with a blink of an eye,
he finished so quickly.
With such short span of time,
I doubted if my disease will be treated,
for even his steth has no earpiece, he put it on my chest auscultated.
He then grabbed a pen
and prescribed me penicillin
to which, my goodness, I am allergic in.
I asked him to change that medicine,
but he insisted ‘coz the med. rep. is his girlfriend.
Later, he charged me
of a very high professional fee.
I begged him to lower that fee, hoping for a bit o sympathy.
But only heard him say..” I have so much bills to pay.”
Are we this kind of doctor for tomorrow, who will just add to the patients’ sorrow?Or those doctor who truly cares,
even to those who have nothing to share..
Oct 3, 2014
Oct 3, 2014 at 1:06 AM UTC
the cover of my journal is
***** worn with the flavor of
mandarin oranges
I have only owned it since
Christmas
I am never careful with my
personal belongings
broke the right earpiece
clean off my headphones
my left side drowns in the
silly detailed grungy
love songs
my right side listens for
the babe
broke my laptop last week
the corner hit the floor
if I keep it completely still
on the dining table
it won't shut off at
random
broke a small piece off my
food stamp card
it still works most of the time
& I'm too lazy to call them for a
new one
broke my heart trillions of times
broke eight different men
bound to break another
walked this earth for almost
twenty-two years
& I **** well managed to
break everything
but my bones
Jan 31, 2012
Jan 31, 2012 at 12:17 PM UTC
He sipped that ice cold drink so refreshing
outside of a quaint cafe.
Watching the people particularly the girls
tapping the table he was tense.
This his first mission as a covert operative
trying to be positive.
Just told to expect a package to be delivered
nothing more disclosed.
His earpiece buzzed as a young woman sat
placing her coffee down.
Using trigger words in their conversation
she responded without evasion.
Getting up she smiled politely saying goodbye
then quickly went away.
Under her saucer he saw a piece of paper
pulling it out he read.
Look under my side of the coffee table
difficult as it was unstable.
Nearly tipping it over pulling the sticky tape
being firmly held.
Concealing it trying not to look awkward
joining a passing group.
Concerned there was somebody stalking
he started quickly walking!
His fears were confirmed when he heard a pop
a bullet fired close by!
Through a silencer then there was another
taking evasive action.
Informing the surveillance team in the van
then into the underground he ran!
Planning a route for his own safe escape
he knew the terrain.
Finding the spot he had put a gun and torch
now he was prepared.
Shaking from the cold and possibly fear
there were footsteps near!
As they came along side he jumped out
the bright beam on.
At the same time firing his magnum gun
a grunt and a thud.
Then at his feet a body laid motionless
no emotion did he express!
He informed the team of what had occurred
continuing with his task.
Others could be close behind for the cargo
so delivery was vital.
The destination was at last radioed through
knowing what he had to do!
First mission and first blood his career had begun!
The Foureyed Poet.
Jun 22, 2012
Jun 22, 2012 at 10:11 PM UTC
Ear holes closed to the world
Hands thumping to the beat
All made in the same mould
How they enjoy this moronic feat!
You would feel they are not from womb
But batches generated by machines
Clones consigned to doom
Mechanical dolls in their teens!
It’s no yielding to passion
For music that touches the heart
Just an unquestioning submission to fashion
That once acquired defies to depart!
Their earpiece shuts out the world
And with it goes the fine art of hearing
Cursed and made in the same mould
They never know how sweetly the birds sing!
Apr 16, 2013
Apr 16, 2013 at 7:32 AM UTC
two cats i own were bathed today,
the larger male started to
sniff the female out,
started to hark a purr out
into a meow which sounded
too fierce, i had them on
the windowsill, each time he did
so i wetted his snout,
and cut him short from full exaggeration,
unlike brown-nosing expected
he gave up... she was frail and welcome
2 pounds' coin wide-eyed,
- you smell like she does, why are you parhing?
- i'm not a cobra about to spit venom, i'm a cat
- you're about to blind her eye with venom
akin to a spider building a spiderweb for milky-eye...
- i'm harsh meowing,
- you're rhapsody in hark mad!
- i smelt skunk.
- so you did, trot down the stairs.
- lazy society breeds philosophers / zoological up-keepers;
- lazy society breeds anything...
- cannibal's yawn being a mouthful...
- and a large mouth...
- two kept an earpiece to keep the slogan:
the walls have ears... earned each a
slammer and slogan a stiff door opening itch...
unlike well-oiled hinges:
for an aid... a slave woman named
didgeridoo had her humming ready to box box box
beat a heart among livers, supposing
each had a rhythm... it's hardly necessary
for your high-school friends to want you to fail...
but expect them to turn you into a necrophiliac...
just so there's a story for their grandchildren...
i'd ask to cage them for their partaking in
unresolved imagining of things... they wished
to have encountered...
rather than... a cold lamb sandwich.
Feb 6, 2016
Feb 6, 2016 at 7:03 PM UTC
That one is either rolling a cigarette between her teeth
or picking out this morning's rushed breakfast keish.
That man is either yelling lyrics to an upbeat rap melody
or scolding his young child, with his back to me.
That mom is either arguing with a voice on her earpiece
or the little girl, defeated, with her head in her knees.
I would tell that lady that her teeth look fine,
or that cigarettes **** but she might respond with I don't mind
I would tell that man that he's good at what he does,
or he shouldn't yell at his kid, we all know that's not love
I would ask of the mother to pay more attention to her girl,
or maybe a bit less if that's what's making her hurl.
I wonder if anyone plays this game with me
when all you can do is wonder when all you can do is see.
I wonder what they think and if to them I seem okay
I don't mean to intrude, I just fasten my seatbelt and play.
Feb 16, 2016
Feb 16, 2016 at 6:10 PM UTC
In my hopeless fantasies,
we’d run into each other
on the street somewhere
with a bar in walking distance, maybe,
but I can’t. Really, I can’t.
It’s nothing against you,
really it’s not.
I’d love to find you one day
sitting across from me
on the late train home
or inside my box of
sugar-free cereal that will
help my heart or whatever.
They say a watched *** never boils
and I’m not sure I’ve taken my eyes off you.
It’s not fair to you. Really, it’s not.
Maybe you’ll get this when we meet
in however many years
when the puddles are too small
to drown in. And maybe you
learned how to swim.
Can you teach me?
Can you tell me where you’ve been?
Who you’ve loved?
Tell me the stories you never were able to.
I’ll know them by heart, better than my own.
Tell them without a microphone.
Without an earpiece.
Without your audience listening.
An empty theater clinging to your life,
a raft they never were sent.
A new memory to crave.
A chaser to a burning shot.
The shot itself.
Are you a performer or a teacher?
Standing in front of a tuplet crowd,
the audience whispering answers to questions
that the back of the room
hasn’t even reached yet.
Those chapters were ripped from their books.
Dec 9, 2019
Dec 9, 2019 at 11:41 AM UTC
walking down the dark corridors
turning behind every few seconds
scared of what was going to be behind
fear that i go through while waiting
sitting alone in the classroom
dull dimly lit
seemed so eerie
the four walls of the classroom
that seemed to cave in
u have no idea
blasting music in my ears
hoping i won’t hear anything
any whispers
closing my eyes
hoping i won’t see anything
any shadows
hoping that u would come quickly
and keep me company
laying my head on the table
eyes closes
earpiece on
but every single small noise i hear
i awake
feeling scared
or hoping it was u at least...
Sep 25, 2018
Sep 25, 2018 at 9:47 AM UTC
Today
such sadness got in the way,
of a blue cloudless day,
spotless.
She quit, she said she has had enough,
she is done,
the black clouds
of poison and
thunder have... Won
They coil around
without constriction,
pressure and a little restriction
to prove they ARE real
and her life
is in
complete
disrepair.
My eyes saw the tears
fall and my ears heard the sobs
and heard them
land through earpiece of the
phone, our hearts broke
together, but only I heard it
and only she felt it.
The air became still. As more clouds
moved in and began to leak out of
my phone.
Today sadness won, she has
no spoons left with to defend
herself, I hope that sleep will
put in new ones overnight or
some one will find the ones
and give them back with all
that tarnish gone.
Would she get out of bed,
be able to lift her head
off of the pillow, if she
started the day already
with no spoons?
I have searched and searched,
crawled on my brittle knees,
I must be blind after all or maybe
the spoons are all deaf, they
don't hear my call or my prayer,
God,
please
forgive my
weakest moments
when
I am
not
able
to be
the
cushion
the
shock absorber
the
comforter
the
teddy bear
the
blanket
the
listener
the
finder of the spoons.
So let it rain so it hides
my tears, please rain,
wash it away, wash the black
clouds, take them away.
I must go she needs me...
Aug 9, 2013
Aug 9, 2013 at 12:13 AM UTC
I'm on autopilot
So I can talk to myself
Stop trying to hack into me
I need the space
Maybe I'll never come out
But if you break the circuit
Between me and my robot
You're not going to like what you see
There's a connection buzzing in the back of my earpiece
I can hear static voices trying to reach through to me
But I don't know how to tune the connection
I'm not even looking for the dial
So I threw your voice against the wall
It's always been hard when you're in a hole
I'm trying to guide this plane, but I'm just descending
Never thought I'd need a co-pilot
Never thought I'd hear again
Till I heard your voice speaking from the corner of my room, "I love you"
When I'm naked on the ground, confused
You taught me how to walk again, you gave me shoes
This is seven-twenty-seven three to ground control, I think I'm going to be okay
Jun 27, 2014
Jun 27, 2014 at 7:36 AM UTC
good pitching beat good hitting
on summer nights when Gibson took the mound
and my heart listened
cotton blanket kicked aside
through one earpiece
plugged in a plastic green transistor
radio, letting in
the world
one pitch at a time
Oct 23, 2022
Oct 23, 2022 at 9:06 AM UTC
poems from my most recent self-published collection {name calling}, available on Lulu:
~
[boy with bible]
scissor his hair
with fingers
from the hand
of your longer
arm
picture him
as a hardscrabble
mystic
gay
/ the frog shepherd
~
[entries for loss]
can we stop this talk of the baby cut in half and ask why this town has two graveyards. show me a dog showing an angel where to dig. the brothers have all gone underwater to raise money for hand signals and the sisters have taken from a tale of snowfall an ****** to amnesia’s headstone. the parts of the movie you look at
vanish. it’s my fault there’s a god.
~
[entries for yield]
in laundromat
my stomach
moves
my bed
my blood wears a blue sock
and a fly goes down on melancholy’s crossword
my sister is here to have gum in her hair
and hair
in her mouth
tooth is the ghost beak is not
mom makes us wear most of it home
the animal’s first time as something else
~
[entries for transformation]
i.
is there blood in something born outside,
a history that works in one ear?
ii.
time touches nothing. is the *** of my bruise
/ a scar
~
[entries for water]
seasons by the look and smell of him being beaten.
a hole in a fingerprint. doll overboard.
~
[a letter, silent]
a letter, silent
dropped by a word
into window’s
bible
–
cot, diving board, empty pool. southernmost
search
for earpiece.
–
medusa
her headless
horseman
Mar 29, 2017
Mar 29, 2017 at 8:09 AM UTC
Mood
Put on my earpiece nothing playing but i'm singing to myself.
Mood
I feel so strong and yet so weak.
Mood
I want to cry but i promised myself that last time would be the last.
Mood
I want to scream
Scream on the inside
Cry till i'm alright
Alone alone alone....
Like she said
No tear left to cry...
Jul 1, 2018
Jul 1, 2018 at 5:02 PM UTC