someone told me once that poetry was an economy of words and like any,seems i can’t holdworth
Post Type Archives: Poems
Untitled #186 (2015)
I don’t know that I believe in much,but I know what I know,and I know that I know. I know that I want you,I know that I want you––to be family like family. long drives to someplace that means nothing talking about all those things that mean everything knowing that these people, they mean …
Untitled #184 (2015)
They don’t teach you to deal with this is sex edso what the fuck is sex ed for? taught me I aught not touch anyone,didn’t teach me that I might like a mandidn’t teach me that I might like ‘em both‘stead taught me to imagine my grandmother,‘n that’s ’bout all. don’t matter that my grandmother’s …
Untitled #183 (2015)
Everyone seems to think of themselves as better than everyone else.‘course I seem to think they’re all better than me.don’t think I’m wrong,mind. don’t mind me.Twin Peaks is runnin’ in the background. she’s got tears in her eyes,they’re pretty obvious,but this guy,head waiter of the joint,is sittin’ impatiently while she pays her tab,mutterin’“I had an …
Untitled #182 (2015)
Also, recently 24-7prose has been raiding my archives. They also reminded everyone that I have a poetry collection for sale. Though now the price is a measly $0.99 rather than the original $2.99 This post has been equal parts gratitude and marketing. You’re welcome.
Untitled #181 (2015)
You’re asleep behind me,I don’t know how deep,or how long,or how much I’ve kept you awake,but in this moment I’m thankfulthat my keys don’t clackthe way old keyboards do. Outside a great Mississippi foghas descended on ustoo thick to see past even your nose,though some of us have longer than most. And in this honest,too-early-houryou …
Untitled #179 (2015)
i met someone the other daywho lets me close my eyesand just listen. dry-leaves-rustle as boughs sway October chills came early still absent is April rain with its peeled thunder and hopeful winds. December cracks on the horizoncrystals creep at fringebut here we areall first stepsand too familiar my mind is miles away.
Untitled #178 (2015)
told someone the other day“truth is nothing but a numberof little liesgiving each other context”,and maybe that’s a lie too,but that’s how I’ve always feltabout words; impish little things. there are so many things I wishI could translatetranscribeparsefrom the raw thread of my thoughtinto these little fictions; all my life I’ve made time for eye …
Untitled #177 (2015)
they make maps a’plentyfilled with trails ‘n routesthat’re supposed to lead homeso it’s saidor, leastwise, so I been told. been told, too,home, home is where the heart is,you carry thatwherever you go. meI took a trowel to the dirtsomewhere in Kansas‘n carried thatthen I started followin’ politics‘n dropped it backtwice as quick. maybe,maybe,with the way …
Untitled #176 (2015)
in the quiet of the nightRoald Dahl told him it was the witching hourwhen nothing movedand those sleepless ageless moved freely he hadn’t tried to stay awakehe promisedbut there the clock blinksand blinksit had stopped showing numberssome time agohe couldn’t tell youon account of the clockhe’d been measuring time in rollshe was on one hundred …
