Someone left a black leather briefcase
at the bus station sometime earlier this week.
They called in a bomb squad
from over in Springfield
after the thing sat there for hours
emitting an aura of chilled sweat;
it took them just as long to get their
from what I've been hearing.
They blew the thing up.
Right there in the bus station,
they blew that ****** briefcase
to Hell and back after an X-ray
found wires and a circuitry board.
This is not a big city,
it's not a small town either,
but here we have a place
that I arrive at twice daily
getting pseudo-bombed
and I can hardly scrape up
the dollar for bus fare at times.
A warehouse over on Jasper street
caught on fire a few days later;
an inferno in close quarters,
so they knocked the old Bess over
so the flames didn't spread.
There is still a giant pile of rubble
at the site; bricks with masonry companies
imprint on the sides, rusty bars that were either
too heavy, or too stuck for scrapping fiends,
and a hell of a lot of odorous char.  
This is a winter of fire in Decatur,
but the bones still chill.

The starter is going out
in the 91' Cutlass
that sits in my driveway
braving the winds.
I can hear that grinding noise;
the expensive one.
The one that says,
"Your savings is low!"
every time you think
you're going to have
a stable ride to work.
The bus is reliable,
the route is what will drive
a sane man off the edge.
You start to get sick
of seeing the same ****** places,
the same ****** turns,
the same ****** bumps, and
the same ****** passengers.
Plus, the radio makes Monday
just a little more tolerable
when you get the option
of stopping for breakfast.
I like that car.

Friday seems like a back brace right now,
and I've had just enough caffeine
to where I don't think I can stand a nap.
I'm just glad to have my shoes off, and
the reassuring calm of an uncashed check.
I'm starving.

you extra fry in the bottom of the bag you sleeping in on a tuesday morning you good hair day you all night drinking with no hangover you warm towel straight from the dryer you new friend in the back of a new york taxi cab you misinterpreted abstract art you lost concert ticket you frost bitten fingertip you half dranken water bottle you misspelled word you unwanted bouquet on valentines day you deadline yesterday you uncashed check you college rejection you cannibalistic praying mantis you paper cut from an envelope  you coup de tat you cat got your tongue you swallowed words you split lip you straggly strand of split ends you broken vase you five missed calls you broken necklace clasp you half hearted apology

Let the uncashed lie
unimportant at the present moment
let them be my make-shift mutiny
Let the untouched wait
delay pleasure and torment both
Until the suffering transforms
Revealing more pleasure than I've earned
And so, suffering gives way to sorrow,
sorrow gives way to woe
Senseless action is given thoughtful meaning
Sequence is deemed absent and uninvolved
We can fool ourselves as whole
But let us not take in on our own
We must not let this go

Overspending the bulk
  of my temporal capital

Hourly deficits climb
  and pile into notes

Debts I’ll never repay
  stored in vaults I can’t find

Words lying uncashed,
  as I write overdrawn  
  
Pledging to go back
  and re-sign what’s untendered

I’m unforgiven—overdue,
   my fate unsecured

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2015)

Blindly spending the
  bulk

Of my temporal
  capital

Hourly deficits
  started to climb

And piled into
  notes

I will never  
  repay

Stored in vaults
  that I’ll never find

Words lay
   uncashed

As I waste even
  more  
  
In my attempt to go
  back and re-sign

All those debts
  left untendered

Never forgiven
   now due

That fate
  has secured
    —and defined

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2015)

A hysterectomy for your birthday...What do you want for your birthday? Do you want a  hysterectomy? I held an old, dying ****** in my arms and he whispered, “you are my friend.” He had an uncashed public assistance check in his pocket that he wanted me to have. “What about your 14 children?" I asked. He farted and died.

when a peace of mind overtakes
——————————————-

it’s a bit of a shock, a sneaky surprise,
not unlike the first, no second day of
summer morning sunrise warming
caffeinated heating lungs surprising,
though the sun, it ups from behind,
as I gaze over our even tempered waters,
it always succeeds in taking me unsuspecting with its matching wide grinning if “you pale human, oh ah ha, We gotcha!”

yeah. the water is morning sleepy,
no energy to slap waves needlessly,
so the quiet is felt, even better than
unheard

course, the birds flit back n’ forth,
like madmen and their madder wives,
annoyed for letting the kids oversleep,
and not doing their morning calisthenics,
but it is barely a tremor on the silent
Richter Scale of my mind’s shock and
awe, at the unexpected stun-sun-gun shot
bringing me to being so shockingly
at peace

I dream of this summer’s day imaginary breastwork plating, for it’s January and
the year ahead looms ominous, worries
of Wrack Wreck & Wruin, are the mourning
news, the ancient guilts of the unforgiving,
will come soon enough, god, I hope the phone
don’t ring, it only and always means
troubles bubbling up, consternation
and concerns, troubles, a trip back to
the city, where the mail piles up
unread, unanswered and the few checks
that do come, go uncashed

nothing here that’s wild, nor crazy,
but promised myself I’ll do better
to avoid my self-inflicted
Wrack Wreck & Wruin

WNCP