Monday, August 3, 2020

Prediction

marked automatically;

    life passing within four walls
a leaky faucet of time

the overgrowth of yard
before the window

effortless and green

a million sown fields of pokeweed
glowing pink for a moment
in the stillborn sunrise

it's partly cloudy today
I am superimposed over this reality

there is rain in every imaginary forecast

time is a summer storm
before the window pane

the blackberries of july will become the winter's snow 
before I am gone

Saturday, June 6, 2020

never future

It was rather raw.
    the bloody spot.     leaking valves.
Rubber not conducive to cleaning up the spill
only tongues of the willing will suffice.
Whether they be brought to heel or made to grovel
armor can only weigh down so much.
    luckily with no conscience to break.
only meat.     Cold deathless meat.    raw meat
fit snuggly into containment units
set with bullets for mortar.     burned out sockets.       salted and cured of sentimental value.  without eyes to see inward
the deathlike void reaches out
pulling itself inside.  
marked with no decision.  Taking every reward. 
Made of nothing concrete. 
Only violent. Only violence. Only now and then.

Friday, June 5, 2020

No new hires

drawing a crooked line to

                          this current dream

the face of nondescript mall
escalator to rolls

                            the floor i meet is not
the one
              recalled

i haven't been making the walls
of the memory

the vision is not waiting here for my return

only confusion of time

a lost place         a wretched belief

Peanuts

music   played like end credits
          eight years 

ago         reminded of cracked pavement
broad street

Newark    caramelized peanuts

     searching for 50c 

to make the down
                              payment

to continue to the river's edge
 to soak my brain away in the stream

my feet dangling off bridges

thunder 

        then
the rain comes;

when I was 13 I would close
my eyes and walk across 
Macdade Blvd

the cars never found my body

or understood why I did it

they just hurtled on into the future
leaving me there btw the lines

to mourn their passing

Wednesday, May 27, 2020

barbed

barbs dig into my leg

they make a funny sound when i walk,      no,
an interesting sound

                                  enough so that i won't
remove them   
                      enough so that they'll slowly pierce

deeper into the skin

                                 buried there & 
                                                      enough so that
when i recall their presence

i'll allow them to feed on my flesh

consuming my life     leaving my memory

for dead.

Thursday, May 21, 2020

ice dream

the half of my life i never use

rising walls of ice    the street sign
motorcycles

                     revving btw glacial
hiway barriers

looking for someone that has no
existence
                no face

no dream 

Thursday, April 30, 2020

in the chamber was left one bullet

He pulled the trigger and your brains escaped

there was no magazine but the house rang
hollow after the quake

in the chamber was left one bullet

it burrowed itself into the wall
to die

the smoke took the form
of your youth drifting away

beneath the floorboards
the basement bathed in your blood

Wednesday, April 29, 2020

another one about mud

there might be people
still using it   
                     oh, nevermind
the rubber mat
over the doorstep

it's only there to cultivate
the mud
              that has no stench
only color
the color of decayed potential

a steady drain on battery life
the slow decline
                           of bolt and latch
sink of boot and shoe
never to meet what is
                                   hidden
beneath.

window pane

your starling

dressed in black     jumps off the heavy wall

it doesn't bother to open its

wings    surrounded by the buzz of

wasp and termite     Im the only one that watches

her fall

Thursday, April 9, 2020

Yesterdays

I.
in 2011 from the foggy shell
      eyes behind cages of tempered glass
glared out through ragged hair

II.
time is a passing thing
                                     life is not

there was nothing left unsaid

I think of you saying goodbye
resting on my lap

chin against chin

III.
I hope you know
I never wanted

                          to go

Monday, April 6, 2020

draft

in real time
I am watching a fence fall

it will take years
now there is less snow
the wind will pick up
the rain will wither

the cords tying it
to a sinking dead limb
grown on sinking dead roots
will not hold

there will be an end
an inevitable upheaval

the gates will flood
and the ivy will pour through
the forest will overtake
the carcass
the stakes will mold

the sky will be blue

Friday, March 27, 2020

V

Les Boutons D'or

Vines grow up the impression of walls
stucco white and twinkling with beads of light
your eyes of stars and blackest sky kiss the night
the arc of time and the old house of dew alive
your lips reflecting the blossom of endless white bulbs
the trees have been here for hundreds of years
but you and I are here tonight an ocean and see away
from home     brush strokes paint the story of your smile
a memory of many pasts, the canvas over my heart

Thursday, March 26, 2020

IV

the Vegetable Alibi

It looked like my rucksack
     in an alleyway
                             but in Gap, France
mildewed green canvas
   hand sewn patches

it slouched against a medieval stonewall

two Provencal cops hitch up their
heavy lead pants
                            interrogating the
owner of the bag about a head of lettuce
in his hands
                    how could he be eating such
valuable produce?
                              was it stolen?
your tattoos were backed by the Cote dAzur

they were here to give you
a hard time     sadly

your lettuce had an alibi
the market next door vouched for your
ownership

the cops tugged on their bullet proof
detective skill, 'don't be here when we get back,'

they said,

                 merci
you pulled sadly at your beard
to the rhythm of their footsteps     hiked
bag onto shoulder
its empty stomach sagging--

    c'est bon c'est bon c'est bon 

--to forage for another stretch of pavement
         in another sunless alley
in this decayed

somewhere

III

the Med. at noon

After eating sardines
at a cafe along the beach--
   
     the salty breath
of the sea
the salty fish scales
     fish bones
old world bones float on

--dip into
gentle rolling waves
a sea somewhat thicker and heavy
after lunch
                  lurching blue waves
saltier than I would have
imagined