—ONLY A MOMENT AGO, IT WAS SPRING AND I WAS SINGING

  

Novus Ordo Seclorum

  

It’s easy 

enough

to change skin 

& eyes & 

dye our hair 

a faultless shade 

of flaxseed

You take 

the first step 

to test if the 

street will buckle 

if the helmets will notice

but no one does

except the brown 

and yellow children 

holding a hand 

to shield the glare 

as well as another 

to salute in fear

like the dutiful Kike kids 

we once were

 —EVERYTHING HERE IS FRAGILE 

This is Not a Love Poem (Part 2)

  

     I tell myself Go to Hell because there’s no one else around

I tell the trees and the lake and those ducks I love so much Go to Hell

    When my friends call I stare at their throbbing names but don’t pick up and instead tell the screen Go to Hell

I tell God Go to Hell

     I tell the air and sun and some men on a moon I can’t even see Go to Hell

I tell this chair and stained carpet Go to Hell

     I tell the spiders dangling on panes Go to Hell then tell their unborn babies Go to Hell too

I tell the Christians I know Go to Hell

     I tell the grandchildren I will never have Go to Hell

I tell those airhead dogs frolicking in the water Go to Hell

     I tell history George Washington and Gandhi Go to Hell 

I tell this cup of coffee the eagle and beaver electric vehicles and every poem or loaded love song Go to Hell

     I tell Lucy’s ghost Go to Hell

I tell myself Go to Hell again

     I don’t tell Satan Go to Hell because he’s already seated wiping a bloody scepter across His lips while every doting star winks on command

—I’M NOT SICK, BUT I’M NOT WELL

  

eulogy for the last morning

 

woke up to the water 

shimmering & unclear

the only thing that won’t

turn me down 

maybe I'll get lucky

and drown 

sorting through your 

memory cauldron 

it’s enough it’s enough 

to make me wish I didn’t 

wish I hadn’t 

can't stop what’s swirling 

in my cesspool head 

a barren landscape

respite for the dead

instead I skip 

some half-formed stones

watch the waves warn me 

I’m all alone stopping

liquid taxis with no way home

it’s enough it’s enough 

some days babe 

they get awfully rough 

the bottom falls

silence like a thug

rain on the panes 

carefully drawing 

each curtain closed 

as if that’s all there is 

but never enough 

—I’VE GOT ONE MORE SILVER DOLLAR

 

…Things are looking up—I made $1.62 last week on book sales.

 

…And, hey, my heart seems to be working again. Many thanks to all of you who asked.

 

…Every Sunday I hear that same ad and I think to myself, “I’d like to ‘drink responsibly’.”

 

…You only get so many chances, then you have to make up your mind, one way or the other.

 

…Me? I’m just following instructions.

 

…Second guessing yourself really doesn’t help matters, yet I do it all the time.

 

…In case you’re wondering, I haven’t forgotten.

 

…I’m a little startled at my own willpower.

 

…I guess everyone has a bad friend or two.

 

…First office fire of the year last week.

 

…We better get used to this.

 

…Tomorrow could be one of the best days, or worst days, of my life.

 

…“Gunner!!” 

    “Daniels!!”

 

…It’s a good thing that winning isn’t everything.

 

…“You appeared in 48 searches this week.”

 

…Thanks for thinking of me. 

 

…“It’s hard to write when you’re happy. Have you noticed that?” Connie Millard

 

…Sometimes the only one who sees me all day is this office.

 

…Sometimes you exaggerate things, sure, but you don’t expect to have your bluff called.

 

…Unless said in jest, no one should ever tell you to shut up.

 

…I got a lot of things wrong, but not that one.

 

…You can’t remember everything, but what you do says a lot.

 

…Sometimes it feels kind of nice to be petty.

 

…I figure if I make it to six months, the coast is clear, don’t you think?

 

…"When you’re younger, you romanticize death, even without knowing it. Then it starts happening to your immediate family and friends and suddenly it’s a different thing."Robert Smith

 

…It’s pretty hard to listen to The Cure for long and not want to jump off a high place.

 

…Everybody’s looking for something.

 

…It shouldn’t be so hard to read some of this stuff, but it is.

 

…I always think, if it’s going to rain, it should just go ahead and pour.

 

…I wonder what it means when your hands are constantly cold.

 

…Sometimes I want to feel anything other than what I’m feeling.

 

…I’m running out of places to put it.

 

…So many appropriate adjectives to describe him. Today’s is “despicable.”

 

…It’s funny to think we’re all looking at the same moon, like everyone of us.

… “I wanted a perfect ending. Now I’ve learned, the hard way, that some poems don’t rhyme, and some stories don’t have a clear beginning, middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, about having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what’s going to happen next. Delicious Ambiguity.” Gilda Radner

…Anymore, my eyebrows have a life of their own.

…When you get to a certain age, not a day goes by when you don’t think about aging in some form.

…I don’t think it’s a stretch to say that this could change everything forever, again.

…“I once told my wife I was going out to buy an envelope: ‘Oh,’ she said, ‘well, you're not a poor man. You know, why don't you go online and buy a hundred envelopes and put them in the closet?’ And so I pretended not to hear her. And went out to get an envelope because I have a hell of a good time in the process of buying one envelope.

I meet a lot of people. And see some great looking babies. And a fire engine goes by. And I give them the thumbs up. And I'll ask a woman what kind of dog that is. And, and I don't know. The moral of the story is - we're here on Earth to fart around.

And, of course, the computers will do us out of that. And what the computer people don't realize, or they don't care, is we're dancing animals. You know, we love to move around. And it's like we're not supposed to dance at all anymore.

Let's all get up and move around a bit right now... or at least dance.”

Kurt Vonnegut

 

…“Story doesn’t end.” Rogan Kelly

 

…Eeeeee. Okay, here we go…

—RABBIT, RABBIT

  

                                                The Thin Place

 

           He calls me Mother whispering I’m sorry Mother I’m so sorry his arm hair brushing against mine the two of us in a straightjacket embrace his frame boned like a bird chest or scaffolding every skipped meal emblazoned like crude graffiti on this man-boy I love clinging to me as if I’m some kind of buoy the two of us floating in chaos and denial me with nothing left but to lift my work shirt offering him a nipple and empty breast.