December 2012
4 posts
Welcome to The Family
-After Cesar Vallejo’s “Black Stone Lying on a White Stone”
A summer’s day like any other day.
It was warm
and innocent and
the Sun’s arms hung
like golden ribbons
off the tree branches.
And then I died.
My insides turned outside
and the creases of my fingers
swelled up with somber sweat
and the beads ran down
my lifeless hands.
A final escape attempt.
Suddenly, I...
Sound Interpretations
-After Eugenio Montale’s “L’Anguilla”
Angela, shrill, a siren
day many any
the glacial little Baltic
sure genuine honestly,
many, honestly, and any
a fool, me,
how risky and profound,
such a ten anniversary
dear ammo in ammo and
pointy acapella acapella,
assorted, hear me,
simply you and yet
through, simply you
yell coarsely, yell magically,
fill and though...
I Remember
-After Joe Brainard
I remember the smell of Mohonk Mountain House:
Oakey and earthy and thick and rich.
Mahogany and collected brown dust.
Charcoal soot from the fireplaces
and the permeating smell of pine
in between every grain in the wood.
I remember when my first dog—Maggie—died.
It was cold and the house felt haunted
and dark even though all the lights were on.
I remember watching...
For Home
-After William Carlos Williams
Coyotes howl up
towards
the silver moon
gazing
down, the northbound
train
whistle echoing far
away.
September 2012
2 posts
1 tag
Nature Drunk
The bees can’t fly home;
too much harvested pollen.
The grass can’t blow straight,
each strand wobbles merrily.
The horny toads
croak out of key.
The moon snorts and chuckles,
stardust still sprinkled about his cheeks.
Deers dance and
Mantis pray
for all those happily lost.
An owl hoots, then hiccups.
Old Man Coyote Howls.
The Mockingbird sits smugly
on...
1 tag
Paradigm Shift
It is time.
(Across the universe…)
across the FUCKING universe
I sit alone—alone
why? I know where I
want to be, won’t be, what I want
to do, to be, I think…
I want to scream, internally.
And then throw something
—ANYTHING—onto a canvas
into a wall
onto my body
SOMETHING
Pierce me, tattoo me, shave me, share me
scar me
for the story.
Make...
August 2012
4 posts
1 tag
My Kind of Blues
Car windows rushing past, looking
up and seeing the sky and trees
blur together.
The sun adds tint and the clouds add dimension.
A transcendental palette.
Sunday morning. Winter.
Bagels and eggs and my
brother blasting something foul from the television.
My dad makes a fire in the
living room and he and my
mom sit in their
pajamas reading the
newspaper.
My dad flicks his stereo on. It...
1 tag
(Somewhere in Between), Just Before
A raindrop about to land,
the second time it freezes just before it
hits, crashes, bursts open, explodes, floods,
gray and blue mirrors.
The ground glowing,
vibrantly asleep right before
day trades with night,
and golden ribbons start to weave through the weeds.
Inhale, the last breath,
muscles constrict and tighten,
lungs fill up, ready,
right before that
dive in head first,
or perhaps...
Up and Out and On and Gone
Wake up, stand up, sit up,
straight up.
Straight up!
It’s time to get up!
up and out and into
everything.
New and fresh and clean and bright
and fresh and clean and bright
and clean and bright
and bright
and
away from the darkness and depths
to start anew;
again, again!
Pulsing pumping primping prickling
alive alive alive alive—
senses spark and shiver and shake
wake up! Stand up,...
1 tag
The Janitor
There is a janitor down at the Lincoln Memorial
who mops the dirt off the white marble steps.
It’s cherry blossom season and
tourists clad in neon matching shirts and
name tags run up
the steps to see Ole’ Abe.
Right after he’s done once,
he turns around and
there it is—more dirt.
Back and forth and back and forth
never faltering, never frustrated.
He pauses for
wide-eyed visitors to
take...
