I could have gone to parties,I sta(ye)id home to write poetry to no one.But that’s the a-okay in today,‘cause my stories,my stories are on. Yeah, for all the all in the all that, spilt milk’s more of a sob than a cry anyhow, and the dead-eye aim my anxieties have, seems best broken by blatant …
Post Type Archives: Poems
Untitled #579 (2014)
mikeyj529: stephentkennedy: Synapses fire with a war-for-cheap chatter,that self-same discharge that plasma chars air to vacuum.and those fires keep rising,and them flood waters are rising,but you, you’re ether bound, and damn if that sound don’t just R E SOUND.‘course, me, …
Untitled #578 (2014)
Synapses fire with a war-for-cheap chatter,that self-same discharge that plasma chars air to vacuum.and those fires keep rising,and them flood waters are rising,but you, you’re ether bound, and damn if that sound don’t just R E SOUND.‘course, me, I’ve got …
Untitled #577 (2014)
The impetus. mikeyj529: My, how limbic tonight is.I won’t torrent with misery.Blood and sinew fade.My thoughts drink ether.
Untitled #576 (2014)
“A five fingered gripClammy,” I open with some psuedo-religious imagery designed to ground whatever it is I say, in popular culture so old the original myths predate the language I am speaking of them in. I’m stealing emotional credibility from your spirituality,and you watch, I’m gonna get a …
Untitled #575 (2014)
Sitting on my back stairs,highway 74 mounts its Mississippi overpass,watching folks join the highway headed home. I’ve just pushed send on something that could be nothing,and could be everything,and I find myself watching folks headed home.
Untitled #574 (2014)
Never been on a greyhound,but a man who accused me of rape has, and in San Francisco I sat next to my mother who eyed the homeless man in the corner, as we rode to the coast, looking for bridges and chocolate, I dreamt we rode to ghost towns filled with …
Untitled #572 (2014)
And Faulkner did like his whiskey,and it ain’t comparison, but I do too.Humid swelt afters. and more clever roots that seem archaeic now.The warmth and the sweat reminds me of those pleasant afternoons,Eleanor wrapped inside me. Blue-jeans, t-shirts, thrift-shop long-sleeves,don’t have much use for delicates,on me, in me, in anything. And …
Untitled #571 (2014)
I do not know if I have wilderness dreams because of nature calls,or because I must prove that I too can be a man. I too can be a man.
Untitled #570 (2014)
My favorite picture of you: you touch yourself through sheer fabric, covers peeled back so I can see. “Free Until They Cut Me Down”Take me, take me home. I speak, love, of mountains so great the sky cowers,I speak of sludged flood-plains breathing their first air in …
