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I think I will spend a lifetime trying to be comfortable with funerals until I am uncomfortable at my own for I could use a little more elbow space and a lot more daylight * There are days when there are nights when the moon greets the sun with holes in its teeth and when … Continue reading
A good friend of mine joined the military because he wanted to kill someone and I told him I was scared for him and he said I shouldn’t be and I said fine but you don’t have to go through all those hoops just to end a life and he said but I wouldn’t get … Continue reading
Nobody publishes poetry anymore and I am a no body publishing poetry to people like you and I am afraid to waste your time or that you’re hoping for something from me or worse yet is that you’re not and that you’re sick because I am and you are reading this insisting on a cure … Continue reading
There was this boy, though there always is, and this girl, though there always is, and she was blind and he wasn’t so he thought she looked pretty nice and he promised the impossible willies of improvisation like that he’d make her happy and make her lovely and fix her eyes too, and she said … Continue reading
The end of a relationship is a funeral where you see other couples who kiss and laugh and love like you loved and you are reminded that in another life not so dressed in black that maybe you’d be with that girl who is with that boy who would be with no one if you … Continue reading
Two pieces of ham slapped onto the pan of my body oiled with sweat and I exhaust like a tortoise hallowing a shell which he hopes has a mate in it though he can’t be sure because she can be hiding in herself or maybe she’s just tired and maybe I exhaust more like a … Continue reading
I spoke to a dead guy and he said I’ve been waiting for you for a while now and I said how did you know I’d be coming and I flipped the page and he said I didn’t but I hoped and then I watched him die a second time * When I was younger … Continue reading
Sad steeped poems are the easiest; it’s much harder to write about eating cherries with your feet buried in sand and with a breath of yellow on your diaphragm like a cat around your legs purring as you move against a towel that wraps you in sleep and wakes you up later with the help … Continue reading
I heard there was a poem written that can cure death but I don’t remember how it goes or who wrote it or if it really ever ended, if it just continued and continued even here and in the next and the next until there is no more, but I suppose there always will be … Continue reading
The sun climbs over one mountain just to put shade on another peak. * He was twelve when he died which is better than eleven so I guess he could be happy but I was twelve and a bit so I was pretty sad looking at him with his hair unhair like his lips unlip like … Continue reading
Mizpellt wurdz 