LIO (your Life insurance officer is working hard for you)

Each joke strike a flat note budget references only get you so far
pop-culture references a little more so help the hours drone by

'I won't give you the satisfaction, fiend!'

sitting arms locked, face scowled

'I will not be complicit in your PowerPoint game!'

the only truth is a beneficial silence insured
I won't raise my hand I won't die in 10 20 30 40 years

you'll
never
be
rid
of
my mute existence

you'll never win

I won't be taken alive.

truly

curiously you say,
   
      'Oh'
you say craning your neck,
   
     'what're you reading?'
you become silent when I answer,

     '...'
you turn your head away toward the window,

     'Oh'
I have maybe said something wrong? Too much?

What had you been hoping to hear?

what
          image had you
painted of me
          that I've dispelled

How have a failed you?
         
         I'm sorry.

Co-Worker

At a distance
hey
      I am          that
bloated deathless soul
hey
      look here          at me
no living thing will touch me
look here          hey

--I eliminate them first
scratched them off the board
slotted them in categorical purgatory
this is the corner
where I'm left
                       where you leave me
where I'm alone

if I am like you i am
                           like          nothing
                                           like me
we have that mush to say
no words
a void of word

we have gone on in different directions
                                               from the start
passing
                      going
                                         in neither another' s
direction

it's better this way

anyway

Internment

in these distended
           lifeless letters
focused up on the slides
I banged against my forehead
           my useless fist
for this is how my life,
           for this,
for this,
this is how my life
           my life,
for this,
is lost
and nothing is gained
           in percentages & numbers
each year you'll progress
to middle age
and how bout death?
           would you like to spend 40 years
           exchange 40 years
for the chance to leave six numerical figures
and a wasted life behind?

She knows I hate 'I'm sorry' red roses

She knows I hate 'I'm sorry' red roses
listen to this shit
I have no ego but the one god gave me
placed by the solely by the finger of his right hand
directly to the touch of my porcelain brow
everlasting
she knows I hate valentines day
but there were flowers on the table anyway
there is no one more laid back than me
but I can't stand when I am not listened to
and obeyed
She knows I hate 'I'm sorry' red roses
there they were anyway
casting red shadows in the afternoon sun
this kind of thing would offend anyone
not just me
I am only reacting logically
she should have expected this outcome
I told you she knew
she didn't care
She knows I hate 'I'm sorry' red roses
she left them for me
I threw them away

Writing a walking poem

feverish long poems in the night left tattered on front door steps
making an arrow of the map unable to escape the grid like sprawl

follow the stanzas out to the river edge
remember each word must go with you
stick them like candy between your teeth
wash them out under the sewer of your home

these relatively meaningless directions on specific on wire-taps
contain massive spoilers for the coming week
poems cascade like arc waves drowning offhanded remarks
each new episode resets the continuity mark
ADHD victims are integral to this body trade

the street signs are no help it is the cracks on the floor show the way
fill them with your spit and sweat
eat from tattered remains from the hole punch
recognize the language unrolled from collective heads
leave the DNA to be gathered by the next intelligence sweep
throw your hands up at the unhinged finish line
ejaculate on the cuffs

Cater to the master

to get down on your knees
bend slowly
take care not to stress your back
lean over
slightly arching your hips
place equal pressure
on the balls of your feet
breathe out
while engaging your core
make sure
your thighs are parallel
then perpendicular to the floor
place  palms facedown
before you
make sure to keep your eyes
on the ground

Possum

they tried to console me

about your death

told me that you stole food

that you weren't supposed to be

but that doesn't change the fact
I left you in the cold night
trailing halfhearted prayers

that I rode you down

that you died alone
upon the black earth

without even the headlights
to guide you home.

called death

forget to light the candle o'er
the fire's glow of faded edges,
what little can be remembered
of what once was though it's broken,
thrown away through burning wick,
the word flickers and suffocated,
pulses to each weakened breath,
is a starry, familiar ghoulish face

writing in rain

there, across the keys
bobbing up and down

on waves

monosyllabic, mute       saints
knuckles cracking, bones snapping
strung along about the endless white

a long march of nothing

thoughts about death

but I will not die today, in the rain
as it tumbles down yet          unseen

I'm ready to let dry

clothes, fingers, the day     the night

where goes the wind in mountains unseen

and the rain distorts the screen
floods the page.

Thrown away

pale are the glories brought before and
quiet is the history of the mind. One that lies
and falsifies itself with story.

There in the trunk is the truth. Locked
safely away. The many thoughts of every
other body minus my own. My own is not
like those.

Orange peels, onion skin, egg shells. All
I have to offer is hollow leftover remains.
Pretty paintings without a canvas, no brush,
no pen, not a single frame.

Nothing worth keeping.

Home

when i am gone. things
remain static.

i had once clung to imagery. to
write down. now I can't find it.

you called me. on the phone,

i could have texted. but
i didn't.

i never do. i constantly
think about it. texting. how
i never do it.

it was a misunderstanding.
why you called. why i replied,
i never meant to.

so i had to lie. to
not hurt your feelings. i lied.

i said 'i was just thinking about
calling you.'

but i wasn't. i wasn't thinking
that at all.

First spot

closest to the farthest spot,
first space on the longest mile,
left in park, ignition off;
walking home through the rain.

Holly Ho 2

time the lights
are hollow husks,
torn from cable
wrapped up tight
safely melted down,
colored as bright
as the sky
on empty winter nights.

Holly Ho 1

time the lights
are broken down,
locked in caskets
metal-lined,
stowed away
beneath the deck
in dank galleys
on haunting ships.