Tremendous parts of ways and means
little parts of ways and seams
like there's something to say
seems like there's something to pay
and it goes.
Some kind of hurray like
there's some kind of today happening
hawk like misunderstandings and tomorrow is another.
Bag of tricks, bag of tricks,
bag of stone and a little sticks.
Take em out to the woods where no one can hear
from high city windows and nothing nearer
to a heart than concrete making us all smart.
Lean. Lean on it coding
small programs and watch the thing drop
like a guillotine blade. Yessir, for sure
on the shores of something
nah.
It goes one two nine million
jumping through the ceiling. Jump.
We're all waiting so jump. Fall
down. Hard stops and open windows.
Gods feeling like your in to hymn
so jump.
Rake it, rake it, make it live.
Nine of em so stay alive,
ten thousand ways to find a dive
so pick a way to choose to die.
The bass is real so make it my
best day to try to make it so,
make it go, take a load off, make it fro
and to and just do you.
Justice, just this one and two
and do whatever makes you you.
Part of particles, Spartacus new
to have no name,
nameless hero,
if you're going to speak
say it all on the road
down to impact,
fucking ringer.
original works of parts
Be My
There are days I wish alliteration was not
so easy. Days I wish, that easy laughter
was
something else. Sing songy whatever. Suck a dick.
How hard can a body go?
Fantasizing about summer camp and school,
back pocket ne'r you think twice's.
Do you remember when orgies weren't a thing
you had to coordinate with clinics and back
check every twenty something that pinged back to an inbox?
Salute to the sun. Koyanisquuatsi. It looks right, but
I spelled it wrong. Remember that time at that trap house?
But really
I don't know how many ways I have to ask
"can I hold your hand?"
Can I hold your hand?
Can I hold your hand?
Can I hold your hand?
so easy. Days I wish, that easy laughter
was
something else. Sing songy whatever. Suck a dick.
How hard can a body go?
Fantasizing about summer camp and school,
back pocket ne'r you think twice's.
Do you remember when orgies weren't a thing
you had to coordinate with clinics and back
check every twenty something that pinged back to an inbox?
Salute to the sun. Koyanisquuatsi. It looks right, but
I spelled it wrong. Remember that time at that trap house?
But really
I don't know how many ways I have to ask
"can I hold your hand?"
Can I hold your hand?
Can I hold your hand?
Can I hold your hand?
Bad Music at the House Party
I know she hit it off with him and
he will never see her again and
the worst thing I feel, the best I can muster, is
I wish there was a better song playing
for their breakup.
he will never see her again and
the worst thing I feel, the best I can muster, is
I wish there was a better song playing
for their breakup.
Microwave Hotdogs
Collect the different versions of yourself
while the numbers tick down green on black.
There was this thing I wanted to tell you
I forgot halfway to the fridge.
I'll remember when
it's not raining knives outside.
Her garden is looking something viscous.
Mary, Mary, where did your teeth go?
I'm glad your heart stayed sweet
through the years. Tomatoes come June.
I can't wait. So great to see you.
"We'll catch up." That's my line, marmalade paw!
We will. See me swoon. But not on a thurbsday.
while the numbers tick down green on black.
There was this thing I wanted to tell you
I forgot halfway to the fridge.
I'll remember when
it's not raining knives outside.
Her garden is looking something viscous.
Mary, Mary, where did your teeth go?
I'm glad your heart stayed sweet
through the years. Tomatoes come June.
I can't wait. So great to see you.
"We'll catch up." That's my line, marmalade paw!
We will. See me swoon. But not on a thurbsday.
Fishermen (pittsburgh black and whites 10)
Bologna and cheese
is all we took with us from the rocked shore
of the Allegheny. Water toed, it was a good day
at the rigs. Everything was biting
not big enough to cook
anything more than phone memory photographs.
We watched the sun fall into the basket of downtown
and bell tipped rods turn into glow sticks
bending on snags in the current
and boys cursing, sunglasses on backward,
because their thirty dollar lure
was driftwood hooked
same as a nightcrawler.
All of us hoping still
it would be the big one.
"Summer's early yet" laughing our way back to the fire.
Eighty pound test line
sinks on its own. No lead necessary.
Somewhere inside her
near the dam
a monster kicks and bucks the timescale.
The clean dish of still water
folds into itself paper chewed
by a mouth eras wide. Surface buckles and
sinks, the dinosaur in the room
snatching every breath away
one tail fin kick at a time
the waves big enough to crawl
all the way to shore
snatching our careless pack of Marlboros
from the cinder block I left it on,
the tacklebox nearly gone with it.
"Jesus," pants soaked to the knees,
tackle in hand, you're toothy shouting back to me,
"did you see that?"
The river top
still looks like hand gun knurling
not knowing if she's coming or going
in that monster's wake and I remember
your phone call
not two days ago
about taking yourself
away from everything
in ways
you don't.
Your hands on mine
teaching me how to put a bobber on right,
"loop it under and then over
so the red is down and the white is up.
They can see the white better." I've always been
a hands on learner, dad. The joke fell flat and we
watched the paper cranes unfold
in the waning light, rock skipping.
You said you lived in Shaler,
our feet where they want to be.
You and die. If you say it real fast.
The stars are barnacles
on the belly of the dinosaur
wheeling time like it's pocket change
while our shoes dry out
on the jersey wall
with nothing to go and nowhere to do,
the heels of our bare feet knocking
against the rough rusted tips of
steel bridge rivets
over spring wash mud river water, you asked me,
looking up to that sky,
"how good would it feel
to be whalers
in that sea,"
cigarette butt turning through the air
until it touched down below.
is all we took with us from the rocked shore
of the Allegheny. Water toed, it was a good day
at the rigs. Everything was biting
not big enough to cook
anything more than phone memory photographs.
We watched the sun fall into the basket of downtown
and bell tipped rods turn into glow sticks
bending on snags in the current
and boys cursing, sunglasses on backward,
because their thirty dollar lure
was driftwood hooked
same as a nightcrawler.
All of us hoping still
it would be the big one.
"Summer's early yet" laughing our way back to the fire.
Eighty pound test line
sinks on its own. No lead necessary.
Somewhere inside her
near the dam
a monster kicks and bucks the timescale.
The clean dish of still water
folds into itself paper chewed
by a mouth eras wide. Surface buckles and
sinks, the dinosaur in the room
snatching every breath away
one tail fin kick at a time
the waves big enough to crawl
all the way to shore
snatching our careless pack of Marlboros
from the cinder block I left it on,
the tacklebox nearly gone with it.
"Jesus," pants soaked to the knees,
tackle in hand, you're toothy shouting back to me,
"did you see that?"
The river top
still looks like hand gun knurling
not knowing if she's coming or going
in that monster's wake and I remember
your phone call
not two days ago
about taking yourself
away from everything
in ways
you don't.
Your hands on mine
teaching me how to put a bobber on right,
"loop it under and then over
so the red is down and the white is up.
They can see the white better." I've always been
a hands on learner, dad. The joke fell flat and we
watched the paper cranes unfold
in the waning light, rock skipping.
You said you lived in Shaler,
our feet where they want to be.
You and die. If you say it real fast.
The stars are barnacles
on the belly of the dinosaur
wheeling time like it's pocket change
while our shoes dry out
on the jersey wall
with nothing to go and nowhere to do,
the heels of our bare feet knocking
against the rough rusted tips of
steel bridge rivets
over spring wash mud river water, you asked me,
looking up to that sky,
"how good would it feel
to be whalers
in that sea,"
cigarette butt turning through the air
until it touched down below.
Queer Lush
I bought you some gloves
because I know how much you love
and I know how much I don't
and seeing you smile
because I remembered
our conversation over pints
about how small your fingers are
for your height
is enough of an easy gamble
to get me off my seat and do
what I am not accustomed to, at least around you.
Hopefully though, you'll love them because they're pink
and not because you expected nothing from me
five months removed from Christmas.
My gold star badge will be my secret.
I remember dialing but not
what I yacked about for an hour that night.
Remember how long it took me
to remember what your stupid favorite color was
along with your last name?
For what they are,
and I will eat your joy for what they mean
inside me.
because I know how much you love
and I know how much I don't
and seeing you smile
because I remembered
our conversation over pints
about how small your fingers are
for your height
is enough of an easy gamble
to get me off my seat and do
what I am not accustomed to, at least around you.
Hopefully though, you'll love them because they're pink
and not because you expected nothing from me
five months removed from Christmas.
My gold star badge will be my secret.
I remember dialing but not
what I yacked about for an hour that night.
Remember how long it took me
to remember what your stupid favorite color was
along with your last name?
For what they are,
and I will eat your joy for what they mean
inside me.
To My Baby Sister (Troccol)
The dragon lived for hundreds of years. The scales were so big that when he shed the towns people would gather them up and add them to their kitchens.
Every scale was the size of a dinner plate and shined like ocean water when sunlight struck. Sometimes he would shed whiskers when he managed to make it beyond the high grass along the tops of dunes to tan his broad belly. The whiskers, fifteen feet long, washed up days later and the towns people would put loops on them and use them for fishing rods.
The dragon was named Troccol, because every day when he would wake up he would yawn and his trill was so large it shook the air. "troccollllll" his voice would boom and then stretch and roll over and tree trunks snapped beneath the barrel of his body.
He would get up on the stumps of his four legs, tail whipping to and fro like a fly wing, and ramble to the shore. He breathed fire when he could put his mind to it. If he was really hungry, truly, everything inside Troccol would grow and mix and belch through him and lick a light from his flint teeth and scorch the ground.
Every season he would wake and make his trek to the sea to swim and eat and be. Villages stood between his cove and the sea and he trampled them each year to feast. The towns people would scatter when they saw the fire on the horizon. They knew Troccol was coming and they knew he would spare no one along his path.
But there was one knight foolish and headstrong enough to believe he could be Troccol's match. On the fifteenth year, the two hundredth day, he stood before the pool of Troccol's cove and witnessed his rise through the water from the mouth of the under water cave.
His scales shimmered bright green, his whiskers, mud brown waved like branches of an oak.
As he rose and planted one hut sized foreclaw and then another, water washed from his sides on silver drops of dew. His jaws opened wide, fire from his nostrils spewed. He yawned and the knight's iron helmet rattled against his ears. Troccol's black eyes opened and saw the knight in his silver clad leather boots, his voice still booming back against the distant hills. And to the knight it came "I am Troccol, who are you?"
Sent from my Windows Phone
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