What the Cold Snowy Night and the iPad Have Brought Me Too…
January 28, 2013 § Leave a comment
I’m feeling beat up
and like I don’t know
English right now and
people keep telling me
happy birthday on Facebook
when it is not my birthday and
my dreams are filled with
the same dead bird, night
after night, in various forms
of decay and
you wonder why people are
telling me happy birthday when,
clearly, it is not, and why, do I
think, am I having that dream
and I don’t know, really, I just
saw the bird where it fell out of
the tree, dead, or else where
it fell, dead, after hitting Ed’s
truck when flying out of the
tree, a Dark-eyed Junco and
I just saw the bird laying
there, dead, and maybe I feel
some guilt over not doing
anything with its body; I
just left it on the ground where
it fell, and I wonder when I walk
by it, each time, if I ever watched
it with my binoculars but now,
maybe, with the freshly fallen
six inches of snow, I won’t see
the bird again until spring, or
maybe, only the skull and
bones which is its favorite form
in my dreams
……………
and the periods, where do
they all go?
another word for pierce
January 7, 2013 § 2 Comments
Reading backwards
with all of the things that
you have ever had
you see
I can’t find my words I shouldn’t
have to wait
for the words
to find me I shouldn’t have
to wait,
to sit, drink my black, hours-old
hours-cold coffee
fiddling with this fountain pen
writing a word here and there
balling the page up
throwing it as hard as I can
at the white wall with
light blue lines ruled from
corner to corner
I shouldn’t have to wait
for fake
to inspire me to take pen in hand
and fill the pages
I shouldn’t have to wait for the
words the fucking words that
flow from my brain to the tip of
this pen filled with blue ink
regular blue there’s nothing flashy
about this blue except that it
clashes withe the light blue
lines ruled from corner to corner
of this wall that laughs at my
naivety when I believe that I
have to wait for words to come
the fucking words penetrate
me deeper and deeper with each breathe
in this deeper
and I ask you why did you
lie to me in this way
in this deeper
and as the words get
deeper you wonder why things
between us have faded and I say
I waited and I waited
but they never came so I
started with the dictionary
and page by page
I stuffed them up into me
and by the letter B there
was no room left for you
and now as the words get deeper
and deeper
and we get weaker
inspiration still doesn’t come
inspiration still doesn’t comE
The Reflection Pool 