—ALL SINS ARE FORGIVEN IN NEW YORK CITY

 

A Crazy Person

 

Like a crazy person, 

I’m talking to you again, 

inside my head or aloud,

I’m not sure which, 

which right away must mean 

I’m a crazy person, 

though no one on the 

street’s currently looking at me, 

though maybe the reason 

they’re not is because 

I’m nuts and scare them, 

which would seem about right, 

but anyway, I’m thinking 

about you again, Goddamnit,

because it’s sunny out and

the breeze smells like honeysuckle, 

which used to make you sneeze 

all over your face and sometimes mine.

It’s going to rain later, apparently, 

according to the nifty cloud logo

button on my phone, but that 

just makes me think about you more,

how you once tromped through 

the back yard, your whole body 

sinking and squishing in the spongy lawn, 

darting here and there like a magic scarf,

what a muddy fool you were. 

Tomorrow calls for hail, 

Hallelujah. It’s our favorite 

kind of weather, or was

back when you were still around, 

that endless ellipsis of white BBs

shooting down from the sky 

in an urgent rush, as if God himself

was vomiting up a million Dippin’ Dots

he wished he hadn’t eaten.

But God’s not here right now, 

you neither, Goddamnit, 

and that’s a shame, 

a crying shame as they say.

So, in my coat pocket, next to 

my one set of lungs, I’ve got 

your collar with me, 

the one I forgot

on the day the vet put you down

but called later to tell me about, 

to come and retrieve 

the dog collar instead of you 

because you were long dead by then. 

I think I’ll always think of you, 

maybe until I’m dead, as you are now. 

It’s crazy to say that, to feel so much

about what some people might say is only a pet,

though you were far more than that, 

you were, even if it sounds psychotic 

to confess such a thing, my joy.

And so, I’ll say it today and 

will likely again tomorrow,

even if it’s thunderstruck, stormy-as-hell

Helter Skelter Watch-your-head-Lucy!

weather, the kind we both feared and hated.

I’m not certain of much anymore, 

what kind of country this is or tomorrow’s forecast,

yet I’m pretty sure I’ll always miss you, 

even if I say so out loud, on accident, 

to the old woman walking down 

Front Street, wondering, 

Who is that lunatic and 

why won’t he shut up?

 

—EVEN IF YOU NEVER KNOW IT

 

 

…You can’t hurt me. I’ve been buried alive by the devil that’s in this mirror.

 

…This was blast from the past, something really sweet a person shared on my birthday last week:

https://kristinfouquet.blogspot.com/2018/09/poignant-stories-book-review-of-im-not.html?fbclid=IwY2xjawLNe3NleHRuA2FlbQIxMQBicmlkETFaZUNNcFBvNTBDT2hkd2JZAR5jwRJ2Y5uuFzsYRAVaUsm0SP5PixsQ7O1BB1UGH-bC0NRUF0EldCyS_xHKCA_aem_w7JK_dR_on6kUvPLuf3ksA

 

…And I had this published (What, what?) the other day:

https://theliteraryunderground.org/blog/2025/07/02/an-abundance-of-riches-by-len-kuntz/

 

…“Are we winning?”

 

…There are two sides to every river, but it can be easy to drown in the middle.

 

…It’s often only when it stops that you realize what it really means.

 

…“One of the greatest secrets in life: Other people teach you how to be a better player, and that’s how you win.” Mel Robbins

 

…I’m not sure if I have the capacity for all that stuff anymore. And it’s not about age, though maybe it is. 

 

…People who think they’re funnier than they really are, are still funny to themselves.

 

…I think one of my problems is I have more time to think about, and examine, the things someone’s said, which can often lead me misdirected.

 

…Apparently, keeping a secret is something that doesn’t happens anymore.

 

…It’s hard to make it easy.

 

…Oh boy…

 

…Even when it doesn’t mean anything, if you think about it long enough and hard enough, it does.

 

…Needless to say…

 

…If you’re going all out to sue someone, what is it that you really want?

 

…33 new restaurants opened in the last half year in the surrounding Seattle area. Good for them. You have to have a lot of chutzpah to pour your entire life into a venture like that.

 

…It’s probably not a good sign when I hear myself encouraging myself to, “Keep going. Keep going. Just keep going.”

 

…The ability to notice, and then appreciate the mundane for more than it is—that’s a rare gift. I think that’s why poetry matters. 

 

…You know how they say, “I hang on your every word”? With some people, I actually do.

 

…If you take the time to look through the garbage, you’re always going to find something to think about, but it might not always be what you expected.

 

…Do you have a person you loathe every day? No? I do.

 

…On a smallish boat (there were twelve of us on it) in Croatia one day, a little boy, about eight, got locked inside the restroom next to me. It was definitely very tricky getting in and out of there and I could hear him next to me, fumbling frantically, feeling trapped, so from the other side I tried to tell him what lever to jigger but at the sound of my voice he stopped and went silent, which I get, Stranger Danger and all, and so after I left I saw his dad on the side of the boat and told him and eventually he got his son out, and once free—literally the second he was out of the door—I heard him call, “Mom? Mom?” and that meant a lot of different things to me.   

 

…It’s pretty difficult to get through life if you haven’t been rejected at least a few dozen times.

 

…I know it’s going to be a really sad day when I stop texting What the chair? Are you chairing kidding me? or I can’t chairing believe it! but it’s bound to happen. And it sort of needs to.

 

…The problem is I’m never going to forget that, and maybe I shouldn’t.

 

…Not to sound like a dick—I don’t have anything against Megan Markle and her latest fashion ensemble, but I really don’t care about it. 

 

…Have you ever been cruel to someone you love without any provocation whatsoever? It’s a pretty awful thing to do, and I’ve done it. 

 

…Sometimes a birthday wish from someone you’ve never even met is one of the best ones.

 

…What if you’re the asshole and don’t even know it?

 

…It’s pretty challenging to be a part of someone else’s life when you’re not there, though I still try.

 

…We always want to show our good side to other people, but really, if someone shows me their tarnished one, I’m more likely to pay attention and be a fan of theirs.

 

…I’m really glad Jeff Bezos and Lauren Sanchez were married in such an extravagant manner. And that all those celebrities showed up for it. And that $56,000,000 got poured into various economies. It gives young couples something to aspire toward once they plan their own nuptials.

 

…A bird has hollow bones so it can fly, but how does a plane, filled with all those people and all that luggage?

 

…Though I didn’t care about it, it seemed odd to me that so little attention was paid to Diddy’s trial. O.J.’s was different, sure, but people were rapt every day. It created its own cottage industry. Lawyers and reporters became household names and then turned into celebrities themselves.

 

…I might think too much.

 

…Never say Goodbye if you can help it, and never say Goodbye on a bad note.

 

…I already know I’m a bitch, so you don’t have to waste your energy calling me out.

 

…“Stop trying to make ‘Fetch’ happen.”

 

…Sometimes what hurts your feelings the most is the truth.

 

…How in the hell do I have 627,000 files? Is that a lot? Because it seems like it is. 

 

…I loved my journalism teacher in high school. He was one of the first authority figures to encourage my writing. I can see his face, his too-long sideburns and Welcome Back Cotter perm, though I can’t recall his name. He impacted me in huge ways, and gave me my own column in the high school newspaper which was a big deal back then. I still remember so much of what he said, what he taught me. One of those is—The media doesn’t tell you what to think, but it tells you what to think about. All these years later, I think of that almost every time I read some ridiculous headline.

 

…Have I told you lately how much I hate typos? Mine, I mean. I have? Okay, just so you know, and so you know I’m sorry for them.

 

…“This is what other people did to you, she decided. They made you question the things you’d always taken as fact.” Kevin Wilson, Run For the Hills

 

…I will always believe, but nothing’s comes this close to shattering my faith as what’s transpired in the last half-year.

 

…How do you not compare, though?

 

…Sometimes the best you can do is to admit, “I’ve got nothing.”

 

…How can you be fat when you only weigh 160 pounds?

 

…I could pick apart my thoughts forever and still not really know what they mean.

 

…“To sit alone or with a few friends, half-drunk under a full moon, you just understand how lucky you are; it’s a story you can’t tell. It’s a story you almost by definition, can’t share. I’ve learned in real time to look at those things and realize: I just had a really good moment.” Anthony Bourdain

 

…If you did it, but it was ugly, should you feel glad about it? 

 

…Sure, you can write a lot and be prolific, but that doesn’t mean it’s good.

 

…It’s pretty bizarre now to hear someone say what a great “leader” I once was, and I’m not being self-aggrandizing in the least. 

 

…When you’re an introvert and you meet someone for the first time, your first thought is usually, I wonder what they’re selling?

 

…“The ability to see the world for what it is and press on anyway. That seems like a skill worth cultivating.” Sumit Paul-Choudhury

 

…“Go, Becky, go! No, No, No, not there! Are you kidding? Well, fuck me.”

 

 

 

—REAL-LIFE LIVIN’ IN A REAL-LIFE PAINTING

 

 

The 40-Year-Old Virgin

 

Yesterday my daughter and I were laughing like jackals again on the phone as I told her about donating blood, how they gave me a trainee that jabbed the needle in my arm harder than John Travolta stabbing Uma Thurman in that infamous Pulp Fiction heroin scene, and how the force of the puncture made me jerk, which made the bookmark and loose papers in the book of poems I was reading (so as not to witness the attempted assassination attempt) fly like feathers from a shot bird, while all the other needle-jabbers stopped what they were doing to stare in shock, and after we laughed, my daughter told me how once, while getting a pap smear, they were doing training too at the facility and asked if it would be okay to take photos, which she agreed to because she’s my daughter, shy, non-confrontational and awkward a lot of times, and she didn’t need to go into specifics because that was plenty of fodder for us, so we laughed some more, so hard on my end that I knocked over the cylinder-shaped drink on my desk, all over some poems I’d been writing, but I didn’t care because I was so happy to be talking to my girl on the phone and laughing with her, and then I closed out our conversation by reminding her when I took her to see The 40-Year-Old Virgin on her thirteenth birthday, like who does that, and she said, You do, Father of the Year.

 

—THE NIGHT’S WHAT YOU MAKE IT

 

 

…“And I was really just writing for me. It was a way of talking then. So, I talked to myself a lot.” Toni Morrison

 

…A lot of days, I don’t know what I’m doing, but I do it anyway.

 

…Bobby Sherman was one of my boyhood idols, never quite up there with David Cassidy, of course, but I revered him. He seemed to have everything I didn’t—talent, boyish good looks, confidence. And the guy wore dog collars. Really. And because he wore them, they became a thing for a while. There’s a lot I could say about his passing, but it would just be more gibberish that only means something to me.

 

--Give me a kiss.

--Why?

--'Cause I need one.

 

…It’s only an island if you look at it from the water.

 

...“When I am on camera, I have a kind of confidence that I don’t have in real life.” Barbara Walters

 

…I think the reason sports are important and popular is because you always want something to root for.

 

…I really believe that I try to listen, read about, and understand the opposing side, but honestly it almost always feels like listening to one lunatic after the other spew complete nonsense that makes you question whether they're actually human beings. 

Like, “We should make January 6^th a national holiday.”

Like, “Autistic people will never be able to hold real jobs.”

Like, "Ukraine was the one who started the war with Russia." 

Fuck off.

 

…I’ve met my share of unreliable narrator’s, and I bet you have, too.  

 

…I’m not the best company inside my own head.

 

…“If you ask me what I believe in,

     I will say music and the sun.” 

    –Greg Kosmicki

 

…It’s usually when I don’t want to, that I know I really need to.

 

…The you in the poem changes when you make it.

 

…I’m not too proud to admit that I get a little too full of myself from time to time. How about you? 

 

…Who needs who more? What’s it matter?

 

…Growing up I had dreams, women, legs akimbo, Hell was there to tell me, all that shit was sinful

 

…Good grief. If you’re seriously going to pick apart Sharon Olds’ line breaks, then you should just go fuck yourself.

 

…I’m jealous of how other people can pause a long time before they respond. That’s a switch I don’t have.

 

…There are just over 8 billion people in the world but I don’t think there’s a single other one that says, “Whoa, Sparky,” just before they do something that could be suspect.

 

…My Junk mail is really worried that I might have dementia, or incontinence. Maybe they know something I don’t.

 

…It’s a little bit silly, all of these mountains of books surrounding me, but they make me feel safe for some reason. So, there’s that.

 

…I’m not sure when it became questionable to be a patriotic, or how that even happened, but I guess it doesn't matter since I’m not so sure I am anymore.

 

…It’s amazing, even to me, how many times a day I say, “Fuck that guy.”

 

…Was it a placebo? Was it a distraction? Tell me how the wind blows. Tell me if it matters.

 

…Falsehoods and Misleading statements are what scared journalists say instead of “lies.” 

He’s a rampant liar. 

Just say it. 

 

…I know I shouldn’t pay attention to a headline like this--Fat Joe Sued for $20 Million by Former Hypeman in Explosive Suit: Alleges Rapper Engaged in Sex Acts With Minors and Coerced Him Into ‘More Than 4,000 Sexual Acts to Maintain His Standing’--but I have a lot I could say about it. 

 

…The thing about a one-trick-pony is that sooner or later you start expecting another trick.

 

…Here’s something—when you’re not sure, just go for a walk.

 

…“There are fronts and facades celebrities put on, but behind that, you know, there’s always a kid inside you.” Bette Middler

 

…I still play Words With Friends. I know that sounds lame. But I like it. What’s strange is the ads that come up—like “leakproof underwear” or “chair exercises for seniors” or a million bra ads.

 

…I really have no idea how I got so lucky. It probably should’ve been you.

 

…Life has a funny way of sneaking up on you.

 

…Catch me, if you can. (And good luck with that.)

 

…“There is another side, the human, imperfect side, and I wanted to learn about it.” Barbara Walters 

 

…"Meals make the society, hold the fabric together in lots of ways that were charming and interesting and intoxicating to me. The perfect meal, or the best meals, occur in a context that has very little to do with the food itself." Anthony Bourdain

 

…I’ve got two days left to get it done. Cross your fingers for me, please.

 

…Thank God Pandora’s Box left that last thing in there.

 

…Every Tuesday’s fatter

 

…You’re the one who delivers the good news. And that’s the difference.

 

…I actually have a document, a file, saved, entitled, “Bits,” which is a receptacle for sentences or words or sounds that seem intriguing, things that might make for a good story or poem. It’s now (currently) grown to 125 pages. I should probably hunker down and get busy.

 

…What’s the point of that?

 

,..I don’t mean to sound melodramatic or alarming, but I can understand why some people O.D.

 

…Most days, don’t you just want to say, “Fuck off”? I know I do. (And have several times in this post already.)

 

…Okay, this could be a mistake.

 

...It’s always the “but” that stops you, that makes a difference, and then everything about what you just heard changes.

 

…I think I have, but maybe I haven’t. And that’s the problem.

 

…What’s weird is saying, “I don’t have anything going on in my life right now,” and meaning it completely, which always, immediately, provokes the question, “Are you okay?”

 

…If you discount lawyers, I bet no one in the entire country knows what racketeering is. 

 

…“Maybe the secret to pain was to respond to it in ways that made the pain worth it.” Kevin Wilson, Run for the Hills

 

…I’ve come to view the current administration the same way I eventually did my mother—I don’t believe a fucking thing they say.

 

…This is a truth that can’t be undone—when your kids are happy, you’re happy.

 

“When I know what people think of me

I am plunged into my loneliness. The grey

hat bought earlier sickens.

I have no purpose no longer distinguishable.

A feeling like being choked

enters my throat.”

        --Robert Creeley

 

…Sometimes it can be a good thing when you wake yourself up from snoring.

 

…One thing I’m pretty good at is making other people feel happy even on those days I don’t feel that way myself.

 

…“Everybody throws a Hail Mary when you’ve got nothing left to lose.” Suits

 

…Sometimes when I’m watching TV and I see some handsome young guy on some insipid SVU, FBI, CSI-type show, I’ll remember the first time, years ago, when I saw a handsome young guy on a similar show and thought—that guy is younger than me, in fact, everyone on shows now is younger than me, or younger than I’ll ever be anymore.

 

…I saw an article from The Hollywood Reporter yesterday that read: That’s It, The F Word is Officially Boring. 

I think I disagree.

 

…Almost everyone I know is better at saying No than I am.

 

…“There’s not a better feeling than the one you get from helping somebody out. I would recommend it to everybody.” Bobby Sherman

 

…What you pray for says everything you don’t.

 

…How lucky to have a birthday, even when no one knows you do.

 

…I think I actually love birthdays now.

 

…Okay, that might be more than I need, but Thank you.

 

…“Do you think I sigh a lot?” 

—STOP ME IF YOU’VE HEARD THIS ONE 

 

Not Quite Finished

 

Sometimes I sit here, watching baseball or golf like any old man, and my son will come home from work, what they call teaching pre-school to young terrorists, and he’ll be exhausted, same as I was once, and he’ll kiss the crown of my head without asking permission, as if I’m a prince or king, a gorgeous gesture I never taught him, and he’ll ask how my day was, what I did, what new music I heard, and maybe he’ll genuinely care to hear my replies if he isn’t too beaten down by toddlers tumbling all over him or kids shitting their pants before noon, too early in the day for that, and I’ll say, It was good, son, Yeah it was, saying so with a little extra something if I wrote I poem I felt good enough about, and he’ll say, That’s good, Dad, and I’ll watch the pitch or swing on the screen before he comes back down later to the table where we’ll talk about what really happened today, the bombings and genocide in foreign lands and right here, the destruction of decency and the demolition of truth, and afterward, while I’m cleaning up the mess of plates and stuffing uneaten food down the scary gray mouth of the disposal, we’ll say, I love you, because it’s always the right thing to do, the knot on the bow so to speak, and then invariably, I’ll find another plate set aside, smeared with some disgusting sauce, or a dish with a meal on it that looks started but not quite finished, and I’ll swamp that one with fresh hot water from the sink spout and push whatever’s still clinging down the drain as well.  

 

—CAN YOU THINK IT LOUDER?

 

 

See-through

 

But you didn’t call me back is what I hear the man whisper into his cellphone at Gate 8, an anthill of people and commotion blurring around me, the thumbtack beginning its push, center of my forehead, neat as a surgeon’s needle, a migraine sprouting, here of all places, my left hand numb, sprockets in my vision, But you didn’t call me back and you said you would, the man repeats, his hands coned around the cell now as if he’s speaking prayers into it, and suddenly I’m thinking about Ms. Marshall, my ninth grade Chemistry teacher who I haven’t recalled in years, the way we taunted her, making fun of her masculine mix-and-match pantsuits, how she’d wear them in different colors but two days in a row, how the mocking progressed, clever kids that we were, becoming more insidious until there were dead rodents left inside her desk, her purse, a mangled cat in her mailbox after someone learned her address, until she stopped showing up at school, until there was dowdy Mrs. East instead, no fun at all, firm with detention, and later the rumors spread like STDs, that Ms. Marshall had hung herself in the garage, and for weeks afterward I imagined her swinging from a rope, wearing a beige pantsuit under a bare bulb because of what we’d done, because she had no one to call, or maybe she did but they didn’t pick up, and now the migraine is drilling like a motherfucker and the crackly speaker is announcing boarding rows but it’s all just dots, people and memories becoming diaphanous, like see-through dust or microscopic motes, too tiny to be real or meaningful, because nothing is real or meaningful, right, and so why should anyone ever call back, why should anyone even bother to ask in the first place?