Awkward and daring
as the seconds spent
staring down
the stroke afflicted
side of a face in
casual conversation.
Adult and immature
as the twenty minutes
ticked by in a shower
stall attempting
to fuck standing up
in a space built for one.
Partial and stumbling
and forgettable
in a stalled stroke of
genius smacking
of temporary solutions
to problems never owned,
but known well enough
to believe relevance
could be adopted
instead of
born through flesh rent.
We were high
on our horses then,
well before
we could have known
the width of the wild
and the bleeding splits
at the corners of the mouth
that remind the head of life
beyond thirsting for
a wildly successful death.
original works of parts
Creationism
Fingers at the keys
at the wrong time of day
and taken by
a housefly
too close for focus
snacking on the mistakes
that are not complete abortions
drifting out of reach and not
out of mind.
My eyes darted from one
mess of still developing lim
bs to another and wanted t
o cover all of the glistening
canoes of their smashed in
heads with a fine and squa
re picnic blanket to keep t
he fly and his inevitable fri
ends far from here and now.
In the space of the air
pressed against my ear lobe
before darting beyond the reach
of fingers too busy with keys
to bother with winged fleas,
a whisper grew
and turned into
a question I would like to pass to
C.D. Wright sometime after we've
put our tea cups together.
The question being
if
it's fair to reduce a life
into a series of well stated axioms
and a matched pair
of despised socks
or
if its fairer
to leave that sort of thing
and its attendant particulate peculiarity
of problematic fourth and final movements
for the professional
clergymen.
at the wrong time of day
and taken by
a housefly
too close for focus
snacking on the mistakes
that are not complete abortions
drifting out of reach and not
out of mind.
My eyes darted from one
mess of still developing lim
bs to another and wanted t
o cover all of the glistening
canoes of their smashed in
heads with a fine and squa
re picnic blanket to keep t
he fly and his inevitable fri
ends far from here and now.
In the space of the air
pressed against my ear lobe
before darting beyond the reach
of fingers too busy with keys
to bother with winged fleas,
a whisper grew
and turned into
a question I would like to pass to
C.D. Wright sometime after we've
put our tea cups together.
The question being
if
it's fair to reduce a life
into a series of well stated axioms
and a matched pair
of despised socks
or
if its fairer
to leave that sort of thing
and its attendant particulate peculiarity
of problematic fourth and final movements
for the professional
clergymen.
Question Marks
Dear Mr. D,
While our time together
has been quite productive,
I believe as you go on
to live your life and leave
the past simmering
on your stove until it spills to button eyed flames
and takes the house
that hate built
to its fractured slab
in a heap of spent tongues and embers
and unrepentant hugs
you should make an effort to see
your scars as less
than cellular artifacting
errors generated by interface violations
perpetrated with incompatible objects
and see them as more
like question marks
printed to skin and tissue
and your future outcomes
as answers.
Good luck to you.
Dr. B.
While our time together
has been quite productive,
I believe as you go on
to live your life and leave
the past simmering
on your stove until it spills to button eyed flames
and takes the house
that hate built
to its fractured slab
in a heap of spent tongues and embers
and unrepentant hugs
you should make an effort to see
your scars as less
than cellular artifacting
errors generated by interface violations
perpetrated with incompatible objects
and see them as more
like question marks
printed to skin and tissue
and your future outcomes
as answers.
Good luck to you.
Dr. B.
Smoker 4
I brought you flowers
borrowed from the bank,
but mostly from the generous
unwatched landscaping flanking
its 6pm closed doors
on the walk to your place
and I shouldn't have
done shots
of crystal clear gin
before heading out
to meet you for a late lunch,
and I wouldn't have
except for the fact
that I know how
pissed you'd be if
I didn't at least try
to show you I cared enough
not to show up
smelling like defeat.
borrowed from the bank,
but mostly from the generous
unwatched landscaping flanking
its 6pm closed doors
on the walk to your place
and I shouldn't have
done shots
of crystal clear gin
before heading out
to meet you for a late lunch,
and I wouldn't have
except for the fact
that I know how
pissed you'd be if
I didn't at least try
to show you I cared enough
not to show up
smelling like defeat.
Coffee
I had a conversation with the boiler today. She is offended by the heater. I told them both to chill out. None of us laughed so I doused the light and shut the door and took my cold cup of coffee elsewhere. Where spider webs did not comprise. The cheap seats.
At the back door. Mexicans on the lawn. Doing work. I would do. And I am paying them because I was already subscribed. And the only things I back out of are awkward. Instances of conversation. They're edging by the paving stones. Talking amongst themselves.
The clothes lines are undisturbed behind them. Plastic clothes pins sun faded. Springs rusted. The only thing hanging out there are the children I never had. In private. I'm willing to admit the fact. Of the matter of our separation is not up for open discussion. Ever.
To the stairs I do not climb I am a bit of a laughing stock. In the call and response trash. Talking floor boards are just about the worst company a man could ask. For honest opinions. I return to the slats at the front window. The blinds. They were on sale.
The cat used to sleep in the sun by my feet. Rubbing in the carpet. Slipper free. Pawing at a stain from a previous marriage. And home owner. I simply have to ask. If Mexicans do carpets. But I know what I should really do is take my cup of coffee elsewhere.
Space Pirates
We should all be so fortunate as
to have our number one concerns in life
summarily railroaded into irrelevance
by the impending threat
of being boarded
by space pirates.
to have our number one concerns in life
summarily railroaded into irrelevance
by the impending threat
of being boarded
by space pirates.
Landing
Feet dangling
in the poorly lit airshaft
that doubled for a courtyard,
and eyes tracing the broken helices
of fire escapes that lead down
to what amounted to
a disaster waiting to happen,
we agreed that Typeface
was a bad name for
our kid (if we ever had one),
but Doruma
could still work
if it was a boy.
And Saturday rolled
marble clean as Friday
and it felt like something beautiful
to agree on an idea
that wasn't sex.
in the poorly lit airshaft
that doubled for a courtyard,
and eyes tracing the broken helices
of fire escapes that lead down
to what amounted to
a disaster waiting to happen,
we agreed that Typeface
was a bad name for
our kid (if we ever had one),
but Doruma
could still work
if it was a boy.
And Saturday rolled
marble clean as Friday
and it felt like something beautiful
to agree on an idea
that wasn't sex.
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