Monday, June 28, 2004
the bobbies
I got high,
Walked
Barrios
Looking
For ladies,
Or to roll bottles
Down the sand.
The sun came up after;
Ripples
And sand crabs ran
As shade rolled on through.
And I dreamt of men women talk
Nakedness and clothes.
As I dreamt out there,
A lot of times lost
Put in bottles
And rolled into the sea
Began to bob on by.
I got high,
Walked
Barrios
Looking
For ladies,
Or to roll bottles
Down the sand.
The sun came up after;
Ripples
And sand crabs ran
As shade rolled on through.
And I dreamt of men women talk
Nakedness and clothes.
As I dreamt out there,
A lot of times lost
Put in bottles
And rolled into the sea
Began to bob on by.
Friday, June 18, 2004
for buke
for what it may be worth
thought my smarts could get me through.
then i met a million kids with more.
then i thought romance would do.
then i saw i don't have shit on poe.
now all i've got is these lines.
most of em are bad.
the ones that aren't
i can't take credit for.
for what it may be worth
thought my smarts could get me through.
then i met a million kids with more.
then i thought romance would do.
then i saw i don't have shit on poe.
now all i've got is these lines.
most of em are bad.
the ones that aren't
i can't take credit for.
Thursday, June 17, 2004
still in bed
Just lie down.
Stop the tears from gasping down your body.
Stop shivering.
Stop gasping.
Do not enjoy this.
Be nervous.
Because this should be like
Fucking with your eyes closed.
It should be like
Fucking with your eyes open.
It should be just like fucking.
Just like blinking.
Just lie down.
Stop the tears from gasping down your body.
Stop shivering.
Stop gasping.
Do not enjoy this.
Be nervous.
Because this should be like
Fucking with your eyes closed.
It should be like
Fucking with your eyes open.
It should be just like fucking.
Just like blinking.
Monday, June 14, 2004
breakfast with chuck
I sat down with Chuck to eat breakfast.
He didn’t eat, of course. But he was sitting there anyway.
“Mike,” he said. “It was all a lie and a trick.”
“I know, Chuck. No one bought it. It’s ok.”
“Nobody’s a tough guy anymore.”
“Maybe nobody ever was.”
“Forgetfulness makes tough guys.”
“I guess we’ll have wait and see about that.”
I got the check.
Chuck drove me home.
I sat down with Chuck to eat breakfast.
He didn’t eat, of course. But he was sitting there anyway.
“Mike,” he said. “It was all a lie and a trick.”
“I know, Chuck. No one bought it. It’s ok.”
“Nobody’s a tough guy anymore.”
“Maybe nobody ever was.”
“Forgetfulness makes tough guys.”
“I guess we’ll have wait and see about that.”
I got the check.
Chuck drove me home.
today
A simple notion guides us:
The idea that
I say “dragon,”
You see your father.
The idea
That fangs and chariots
are here with us,
That as eyes and spears meet,
Diseased children, sugar cubes,
And half-blind women scream.
The idea
That as you plod and bite
Through these grasses,
You taste the salt,
The mercury
Inside my mouth.
A simple notion guides us:
The idea that
I say “dragon,”
You see your father.
The idea
That fangs and chariots
are here with us,
That as eyes and spears meet,
Diseased children, sugar cubes,
And half-blind women scream.
The idea
That as you plod and bite
Through these grasses,
You taste the salt,
The mercury
Inside my mouth.
Friday, June 11, 2004
Some say...
That fire over there, boy, that fire
That begs for a friend, is cold inside.
But you'd never know;
Its outside burns when you reach in.
As your hand nears, the heat dries the sweat
On your palms, you begin to shake, you see,
The cold.
But you'll never know the cold exists.
As you strain for the ice beneath,
Your nerves, your hands, give
Under the flame.
That fire over there, boy, that fire
That begs for a friend, is cold inside.
But you'd never know;
Its outside burns when you reach in.
As your hand nears, the heat dries the sweat
On your palms, you begin to shake, you see,
The cold.
But you'll never know the cold exists.
As you strain for the ice beneath,
Your nerves, your hands, give
Under the flame.
Tuesday, June 08, 2004
The Other Son
He scrapes through the door, sits,
Rests his boots.
White with yellow trimming hum the walls,
A pair of twins and
Coat of arms on the fireplace.
The parents attracted bees with honey
And had procreated madly,
Only to lose half their boys
To the angry sting.
In walks his mother with
Miles of pans.
“Hey ma.”
“Son, how did you reach us?
We told you not to come back.”
Addresses, leaves of phonebooks scattered under
The trees.
Grit, sand in his face,
Shave cream and manure under his breath.
Headlights and streams beneath
The rats.
“I asked around, ma.
How about some of that soup?”
He scrapes through the door, sits,
Rests his boots.
White with yellow trimming hum the walls,
A pair of twins and
Coat of arms on the fireplace.
The parents attracted bees with honey
And had procreated madly,
Only to lose half their boys
To the angry sting.
In walks his mother with
Miles of pans.
“Hey ma.”
“Son, how did you reach us?
We told you not to come back.”
Addresses, leaves of phonebooks scattered under
The trees.
Grit, sand in his face,
Shave cream and manure under his breath.
Headlights and streams beneath
The rats.
“I asked around, ma.
How about some of that soup?”
Friday, June 04, 2004
The Meadow
Laying cocked on an elbow, he
Reaches into manicured flax, teases the cottonmouth
Dress that lies open, checked in tattered, lighter blue.
Beneath the blades and sun
They crawl, grounded, tracing
Dirt and bones.
As the clapboard clips,
The pair swings back. The dress collapses
Beneath the swell of the machines.
Laying cocked on an elbow, he
Reaches into manicured flax, teases the cottonmouth
Dress that lies open, checked in tattered, lighter blue.
Beneath the blades and sun
They crawl, grounded, tracing
Dirt and bones.
As the clapboard clips,
The pair swings back. The dress collapses
Beneath the swell of the machines.
