"monogrammed" poems
It's Sunday
The Mexicans are all doing their laundry
Little girls with shiny bows, sweatpants and sequined tops
Happy smiling faces
Lead the brigade
Mothers follow
Shopping carts on the brink of exploding
The wheels about to blow
Tuxedo shirts, soccer uniforms with the words ***** PAN monogrammed on the front, mismatched socks, and pajamas with feet
Colors
A mess
Cheap laundry detergent stuck on top
I rush down to the laundry
They always take the best machines
I find my place
Throw my little load in
One person does not have that much
I never realized how alone I was
Until that moment
Nov 6, 2013
Nov 6, 2013 at 12:54 AM UTC
eating breakfast
on a beaten girl's face
she ignites when you take it
she glows in her faith
with gold and blue phalange atop sleekest new marrow
she is clear raincoats and black body polish
she is siamese cats asleep on a windowsill
she is the rusted remains where the ices draw narrow
she is reading rimbaud and drowning brian jones
the swan's neck upper reach
is steady with guilt
engraved with your initials
a monogrammed friese
on white marble quilt
Oct 26, 2013
Oct 26, 2013 at 11:19 PM UTC
it's valentines day
and there's this boy
he's got blue eyes
wears olive green
and this monogrammed
color pooled scarf in
red heart mexicana
that his grandma knit
*(i'm also wearing olive
green with denim and
lace -- a skirt?? but
diggity **** he's looking!
i picked this outfit not
knowing it was the precise
shade of green made for
storming beaches on v-day)*
i've been making his
espresso since last august
but today he came around
the back of the counter
to make it and chat so
i gave him some pie
...pie
many successful
relationships have
started with pie
*(mental note: 2/14/17, 11:30
underbaked coconut custard)*
it might be the 8oz
***** chai with
three shots espresso
making my stomach
flitter or it might be
him not the oven
that's got my cheeks
spotted with lightly
browned freckles and
cinnamon flavored blush
*(he's a cook
i'm a baker
doesn't that
work somehow?)*
***** it
now i've got a
heart shaped
pink polka dotted
sugary royal icing
cookie cutter crush.
Feb 14, 2017
Feb 14, 2017 at 1:15 PM UTC
Monogrammed televisions play
McDonalds commercials featuring
Justin Beiber who has the moves
Like a Syrian rebel
Oh look! The new reality...
TV show to delude the pain
Of a million starving children
Crying for your pleasure
I have a suit and a devil's tongue
Will I have your vote in the next
Slave auction? Please I promise
To not totally destroy your dream
But first; did you take a selfie?
Before you chambered the round
Did you even lift?
Or could you even?
I like sheep on my feet:
Ignorance is a warming peace
Until its a cold war
With an unknown enemy
Idiots don't like to be called idiots
But it's for the common ambiguity
When in Rome, we die together
Ashes to ashes dust to dust
May 2, 2014
May 2, 2014 at 5:23 AM UTC
The place I love most is somewhere I haven't been.
There is light and empty spaces and monogrammed dish towels.
There is. a painting that almost captures the way
sunshine
made her eyes look like caramel.
I have dreamed of this place.
Where the phone never rings and parsley grows on the windowsill.
Where there are enough coats to fill their wrought-iron hangers.
I have dreamed
of this place
where she did not give up her consciousness.
I stepped on a bug.
It did not deserve to die.
Oct 10, 2013
Oct 10, 2013 at 9:58 PM UTC
Rosaries might be like ball-point pens
A souvenir for you from Brighton Beach
Fabrique en Chine, blessed by the Bishop of Rome
A kind thought from gap years and honeymoons
But now those rosaries and ball-point pens
Repose in stasis beneath your Sunday socks
And the handkerchiefs Mee-Maw monogrammed
In silk for your high school graduation
Go find them
(No, no, not the socks or handkerchiefs...)
Words flung onto paper are gifts of light
And so are Aves whispered in the night
May 10, 2019
May 10, 2019 at 4:03 PM UTC
in the center of Jersey, I think of his breath.
how his chest expands and contracts
and stops moving all together when he thinks of her bones.
all the girls with the monogrammed backpacks
and their cookie cutter smiles
were plucked from galaxies,
while I was dug up from the ground.
he’s taking her like she’s medicine,
and people aren’t made that way.
there she sits, idle.
coughing up her own ****** lungs
like there’s some sort of return policy,
I can tell. after all, that girl was once me.
Nov 2, 2014
Nov 2, 2014 at 6:27 PM UTC
sometimes, girls with monogrammed
backpacks will hold the boy with
the tattooed arms a little closer
than you want them to.
remember that there has to be a girl
who gets movie nights with her mother
instead of a date with the boy
with the candescent eyes. and sometimes,
that girl is going to be you. but not always.
oh darling, not always.
Sep 16, 2014
Sep 16, 2014 at 9:25 PM UTC
The gifts I’ve received have been
a rosey monogrammed bottle
a Hogwarts scarf
Agatha Christie mysteries
a stone to remind me that God is here
a heartfelt note
a Bluetooth speaker
emotional healing
and even a car
but so far . . .
I’m still lonely
Dec 24, 2018
Dec 24, 2018 at 9:46 PM UTC
Unbeknownst to me if royal
gilded crests comprised
my rusty dust caked coat of arms
hence, I take liberty successfully farms
productive crop to contrive fictitious
Medieval Age forebears
with favorable charms
strong agile hands
hurling crude accouterments
centuries prior to invention of firearms,
which weapons (of mass sieve construction)
privy to proto gendarmes,
this inventiveness of mine conjures
courageous knights in shining armor,
perhaps monogrammed,
hammered chain metal,
nonetheless such endeavor quite a chore
where love's labors not lost,
viz hub bully accepting, condoning,
and employing embellishments extempore,
whereby solar rays alight,
flickr, and glint glore
re: us astral motifs, the stellar
craftsmanship one (even a poor,
indigent destitute beggar
like yours truly)
could not ignore
exquisite baldric, exotic, and heraldic
trappings incorporating magical lore
aesthetically pleasing
fascinating, and appealing to one poor
uneducated disheveled rhapsodic bohemian
incumbent jibber jabbering, hallucinating,
and fancying deplorable basket case to restore
himself, the legitimate true heir,
who could double as
courtly jesting troubadour,
whose slain grand papa Aaron Harris
violently ousted during Uber Vodafone War
constitutes dreamy gotcha your
attention fabricated and
facilitated to Zoar,
an actual ancient city
anachronistically inserted here
thanks to Lot, whose Biblical reference
Google made me aware,
which ye probably care
nary a fig about, but
placename linkedin mere
to allow, enable and provide bare,
lee tenuous appeal dare
ring me to trump
poetic formality near
rolly returning full circle (one tough Job)
manufacturing prevarication
recounting "FAKE" heir
essentially envisioning, imagining,
and jimmying gallant
high in the saddle career
timeless lifeline chess piece
of centuries gone by
enshrouded with reverence by this air
rent considerably less provocative
then missives by Baudelaire.
Jan 15, 2019
Jan 15, 2019 at 10:07 PM UTC