brother of five sits on the cab - sifts through a can of le sueur
Category: Writing and Poetry

sipping a
tin can
of room temp
wine
the varietal 
smoky urban
dance with
overtones of
green pea juice
the silver label
hangs above
the baby's
make-do crib
the tongue
a bent knife
pulled from
junk drawer
mind
eat the
elephant ear
son, his on tight,
i remember
a time...
hold me grandpa
i'm a fig tree
you cling to
mother-naked
a cigar
a hit of sour
play in traffic
expose yourself
to the midday
snarl
one last
vertical stab
before the
endless shuffle
of flat line
feet
his boy
overflowing
with sand
kneels
in the choir loft
hastily
snapping
pencils
suit and tie
parents
cup their
vibrating
cell phones
tobacco
stained
teeth
photos
of
jack ass
and
goddamn you
bagged in
biological
waste
a phone call
a rocket ship
a new place
to asphyxiate

4:08 AM - 17 Comments - 34 Kudos - Add Comment

as bees shouldn’t fly
Category: Writing and Poetry

a pendulum of trees
from an unseen gland
the eschatology
of bees
muddling Cassandra
a footnote in the scrolls
of hourglass eyes
strawberry jelly
cum dribble
glass
took up in the
drawer
of the rector
who's horatio
cheeks
and paul
bearing thighs
published a book
on barbed wire
medley
for gun shows
and women
the mentholatum sun
coats God's angry throat
skipped millennia
of work
chomping cherry
cough drops
orifice and sphincter
out of the garden
into the pull-ups
a snail on a toothpick
leviathan enters
the lingerie shop
death at a shower
and her impossibly cute
booties
as bees shouldn't fly
humans are
wingless
to heaven

6:00 AM - 25 Comments - 48 Kudos - Add Comment

like bats from the eggshell of dreamland
Category: Writing and Poetry

as a boy with a frock  
in his mouth would say
that tree must've
known I was twelve
with a cotton candy bustle dress
but green like swamp things ass
brought famine to the sallow grass
the magnolia spread its leaves
cuts my mowing down
in time to meet
metal mouth lindsey
my wall ball queen
off the mustang brown garage
fourth wall modular
for the  
audience to view
this play in the round.
she dropped her legs
across the street
winding the abandoned cars
who watched the sky
for the second coming
of the astro drive in
hands eating belly
on the Baptist parking lot shivering
from the downpour
of awkwardness
her hum scoring the books of the bible
wore Indian headdress, bucks
mom's gene autry cap gun
at the holy crown
on coonskin lindsey
turned daytime talk show, morgue cold, for
the  toesack brownies
in the frosted TV dinner
of "look it's a dirt
track" and here comes mother now
like bats from the eggshell of dreamland  
once hula-hooping an entire pig
for the soccer team to enjoy
threw a rock from the
garden
at orlando's head
turquoise?
the screen door silenced,
two wet cigarettes
four bricks down
log rides the broken bug killer.
at school, lando spread the
shit and still he'd won.
with the pickaxe my parents used
in the mines each night
their noose knotted muscles –
riddles, my thumbs to solve
yards were bigger. I'd climb the dress
as the sweet sun of heaven
washed the fabric of morning.
youth candy. snatched her middle.
summoning a whisper,
"more boys, get more boys"
Jason dared her balding twigs
throwing green seedpods
at the passing cars.
the AT-ATs and Hoth men were ants
on sidewalk math of orange chalk
you and me equations
my eyes became magnifying glasses
revealing a brain of swollen grandeur
Beau joined our gang of thieves.
stealing time from three
clock-weary mothers. one, a stepchild,
we knew of. our lady of the tree
was pleased. we'd jerk the
branches mightily until her dress
flew up. Beau said, this happened
to his step sister a lot. we let him
throw the mushy pods that night
that's all we could
do. i couldn't give glory.
two feet taller. Jason drowned
that summer in the hungry
lake of the pines, an epileptic.
his sister was dreaming
in the wind. beau's parents went
Buddhist. I never saw him again.
but the tree was there
didn't change when i did.
seeds still falling
until the rent house blew away

12:49 PM - 27 Comments - 44 Kudos - Add Comment

rhetoric
Category: Writing and Poetry

in the river of mixed semen
and bent propeller
party hats
I buried a time capsule
of broken condoms
in the stream of cross
country boys
running 2 miles in
reverse
ate a chicken dinner
in my wife's
mushroom kitchen
good for a cuddle
and a laugh
when I drop
my crushed velvet cape
from saving
girls
I cannot touch
its two
African American
boys who told on
me
why I'm here
and not alive

2:12 AM - 14 Comments - 26 Kudos - Add Comment

todd was a parakeet i kept in the attic for jollies.
Category: Writing and Poetry

the naked white
sheets
shipped to mervyn's
3 years ago
hijacked
on clearance
for 13 dollars a piece
America, I meant a poem
cut a vision
on rubber lips
of ghosts playing "rape me"
on xylophone ribcages
one found penny
from a dollar
menu guy
whose hard socks soaked
in grease and pabulum rainmakers
call forth prehistoric fauna
flipping pink diaphragm clip ons
indeed this father
knows best mini-episode
edicts and emergency iphone
voicemail: "come rub me"
the glove box
glow in the dark
contraceptives
could save china's
idyllic hard-on
and Buddha from his
nightly farm-aid
rim job supplication
eat banana
and read
evolutionary tactics
in the spam mail
of mother gertrude
who's inbox is crammed
with sexsearch
and twitter from
crayola mustache preteens
wait to break the door
to bust the dust off
angel bearded baby sitter
topknots
buying minors
carrot juice and
subway sandwiches
who for long time
swear
watch showering
lesbians
cock the sundial
of 1993
flowers Budweiser
shake-up
witless tool
in spin the bottle
matrix
soak my face with golden brew
the indignity of spit!
wont accept my gift
the peat moss from kate's
blow in the park eyes
pokes sunflower
through sunflower fields
snapdragon in petunia crotch
first base is hidden
freebase
and giggle
barley and jockstraps
once I ran a silver mile
wearing extra large support
screamed LOOK AT ME
when the whale beached
the muscled thighs
god, girls giggle
its a passing joke
how many times
I thought they'd want
a costume
of gut and high
school glory
i eat pizza
on thursdays
for 75 cents
a slice.

1:21 PM - 12 Comments - 24 Kudos - Add Comment

are you floating now
Category: Writing and Poetry

grandfather,
i'm afraid
to call  
your number,
i try to forget
its sequence

i don't
want the breath
to pass
if you're dead

everything
i missed
in an absent
father

i got
from you

some striking
features, confined
in stills, strained
through scowling eyes

when you saw
my mother
die, for once,
you sat exposed.
stolid was
an act

eighteen years
elapse -
an only child
is gone

your eyes were red
from grief
if you cried
you must have turned.
whiskey isn't
helping.

the casual
air in the liquor
store bears
knee high
to raging man

you should try
this has-been
acting
i could use
some
hallmark

kiss
your psoriasis
on
my cheekbones

bellows of
indigestion
wake my children
like you did
my every midnight

i remind
them, i'm
no monster

hardly

grandfather,
you pushed
me in the pool
when i was four,
i still
can't swim

are you
floating now?
- baby
in the abyss -
yer penis
bobbing
up and down

thirty miles
of interstate's
a wall
its not a road

your my balloon
i let go from pudgy
fingers and never
mourned

until finding
its blue skin,
shriveled,
three counties
down

and

as many
decades
faded

i can't
help but
wonder when
you're strength
will fail

our elder years
you spoke in
schemes
your gleaming
eye would
go another
year

but really

when?
 
i find your
surname
on my cell
but i'm
pretty sure
your
disconnected
 

4:38 AM - 18 Comments - 36 Kudos - Add Comment

Sopping Up Suburbia
Category: Writing and Poetry

its 2:41am
on a Sunday Morning
in the sublet
of dreams
but we
lost connection
in Subdivision 12
Lot 33

the hammers and nails
and tejano music
have to
get up early
for a 12 hour shift

campaign placards
huddle and plot
to ban the yard sale signs
just in time
for per capita
finds wanting
a dollar to buy
anything new

some reprobate tags
the curling wall
later he'll slam
his '83 Accord
takes
a few bricks out

that was my first
car the neighborhood
cop thinks
as he leaves
a text on
his wife's cell phone

she sits on the council
of second hand motions
never slowing down
for anyone

you're there on the flip side
where sirens
mean someone's
run out of time
Spidermans peeking
through
yer back window
the mailmans come
to take your home

you're at peace
feeding the fish
the same ones
you kept
in yer aquarium

here in the sprawl
we've got our own little
problem
to make you wish
you could sleep
at night

when darkness falls
like a chocolate
shell coating yer
Dairy Queen cone
there's no escape

from the awful sloshing
in the placid static
of my half blind
poodle
polishing
his long gone
balls

7:51 AM - 17 Comments - 34 Kudos - Add Comment

Orange Julius
Category: Writing and Poetry

my mom would buy
an orange drink
filled with pulpy
goodness
and there we'd sit
in tiny chairs
to watch the
squatty
shoppers

of course we had
our orange
drink
big enough to
share
but all I ever
wanted then
was a Walkman
from JC Penney's

we'd poke our
heads in all the
shops and
dream of Christmas
morning
and all the time
the orange
drink was draining
to an end

in brutal air
of crisp alone
through veil
I cannot cleave
a pasty morning
claims its weak
in line to
punch the clock

my home-schooled
children
at the mall
on errands with
their mom
learn the
science
of tank bikini -
the toxicity
of nail salons

7:34 AM - 28 Comments - 54 Kudos - Add Comment

chicken species

automaton and
average lay

should make
a child
the normal
way

devoid of love
and lacking
bond

out the back
and up the alley

should not the
world proceed

ask the child
in twenty years
what the fuck
has happened here

6:46 AM - 9 Comments - 20 Kudos - Add Comment

whale’s lament
Category: Writing and Poetry

in a cracker box
much like
a coffin

a beached whale
does his
business

elbows crimped
shoulders bent
blowhole
in constant
rhythm

reads a pasty
book of poems

whales are mammals
and share this bond
with more poetic
species

but their shit is
red and ours is
not

the ones off
writing words

6:29 AM - 9 Comments - 18 Kudos - Add Comment

one day’s mask for another
Category: Writing and Poetry

so criminal. so pretty.
one day's mask for another
peek brother, hold hands.
smaller the bag, these bones
grew big
1st knee, revels in measure
other is elder, "make
stop" pains he.
lithe cat pawns crepuscular
over scar path alley. jigsaw framed
femur scans carbons in sight
the mice in the field
trample their young,
chitter design. quite mice!
tailor made heavens
spread domicile dumb
through play-doh shop grinder.
house cat, house man,
poodle licks filth:
could strand on a fogless moon,
fluent lung fish.
god! a rainbow in the
cataclysm.
as a child I drew one -
spans bright on the magnet
hangs dour on the lip

8:50 PM - 15 Comments - 32 Kudos - Add Comment

star-cocked Julie
Category: Writing and Poetry

we're star-cocked, Julie, mine explodes.
from sixth grade play I feel yer heat
near goat cheese moon your star gives out -
the light has traveled through.
love is under butter dish, a note
in dinnerware. but there's no Julie
in the slip, who comes, nocturnal, for a pat.
give me angel, from a noose, pregnant dog,
inside a bush, but do not give me awful hope
-a thousand doors might swing my Jules-
was she swinging long ago?

8:41 AM - 10 Comments - 18 Kudos - Add Comment

glassy for the vision
Category: Writing and Poetry

in quicksand, finds a worried bird – once a flirty
thing. I have no wits to fix its plight. I saw its
arc just yesterday.
but yesterdays, to me, are stone. I have no friends
save swollen faces in the stagnant pond
rise and fall their piney noses
early days I'd come and skip
stones upon their eyes – glassy for the vision
I'd ask this bird be helped by them
if they could only touch. love is harshest
in its dying. but love will live forever -
it only needs a host to feed. this bird
can lend its bones. death be friend to
all it touches. I believe this when I'm gone.

8:59 AM - 20 Comments - 42 Kudos - Add Comment

what time is it? ten milligram time!
Category: Writing and Poetry

picked for the P.T.A
of feudal attempts
to initiate
sequence with girl
curtain call. futile?
better bring words
fix a face and forget it
peel money from mole of
my friend
his Crawford fetish  
better get air
a mint from the bowl
poem on the tongue
where is thumbkin?
never mind that!
holy hell, come talk to me
I'm pizza and gravy
why aren't you
I'm any game
with balls
I'm zur the traitor of rhylos
I don't ask for milk, nursing
my last starfighter
you clipped the wings off a delusional
poodle. his only desire?
to make it with canis
minor. that fine ass pooch
in Orion's sweet breed.

6:08 PM - 17 Comments - 22 Kudos - Add Comment

of course i’m radish! i just saw a salad dressing!! and other explicit sex scenes
Category: Writing and Poetry

the clientele blows me
boredly
caught in a one eyed lasso
the second hand scarfing carmel
mountains strung in taffy chains
apple and rockfish fossils
post no bills with neon daisies
nor stinky diapers filled
with Archibald's greasy dollar. God!
go help that woman
go help her
I'm fat and ugly
an astrological signpost, baby
quit spraying it down with puns
you ogre with antennae to Christ
you rorschach cockroach
everyone no's it
give fortnights with girls allowed
wear fog hat and parachute pant
who loves me for bones,
skin. nothing else
not the way
I've hopelessly become.
not the pardon
I've come to believe.
once swam in the conscious
of -ness
leaving her barreling from plunder
saw her totem pole arms
knew it was coming to this
time for a chex mix exit
in this party palooza for one

4:37 PM - 12 Comments - 22 Kudos - Add Comment