I don’t mean to
gaze upon your girlfriend, bro.
Many apologies,
to you and to her.
I did not know that she
showed up with you
and I’ve been known
to misconstrue
many different situations
and I guess I just feel
bad. Continue reading
Poetry
Hands 1-3
1.
In search of brutal hands
that can bash in skulls and eyes and tongue,
hands that turn the person to primordial
and leave visceral poetry across
the crime scenes, hands that pour
goat milk and raw honey from Grecian vases
and waterboard this temple until
it cries out cosmic truth,
hands made of serpent flesh
that pull hearts and lungs from cages
and examines them in the fresh mountain sun
looking for potential jewels,
hands that do the work of Revalations,
that drum and trumpet the beat of four riders
pulling apart this husk
in those cardinal directions
leaving a mandala of all one was
for scavengers to fight over,
hands that won’t let go till our
fervorous pleas of OH-PLEASE-KILL-ME
aren’t speaking from a place of fear
but from the roots,
in search of those hands
that show us all that remains
good in a man.
2.
If I rub my hands together, with enough force
I can turn the dust into sparks,
a handful of lightning thoughts and thunder beliefs,
and if I do it long enough,
there will be plenty for you and for me.
And if we rub our hands together, with enough force,
we can turn all fear into a seedling,
a tree with roots tangled in and out our
skin, blossoms bursting through our chests
and fruit shall fall from our eyes
as we age.
I rub my hands across the petals of your lips,
I can turn them into ash, with enough force,
and then I can hold more of you
in my hands.
If I rub my hands together
I can turn your dust into sparks
all lightning struck tree,
planted in the palm of me.
3.
Those who can read
Know her as a star map, already fading
those who can touch
Know her sympathy can, in fact, vanish
Those who can hold
End up knowing she doesn’t really want them
Those who are offered, though,
Know she is handing them a second chance.
Again, Maybe
He was wine drunk and in love, again.
Maybe.
The wine hadn’t taken charge just yet.
The girl was still just an idea.
But, in the December downpour,
With its wind-powered organs and drizzling flutes,
He felt wine drunk and in love, again.
Maybe.
He’d been wrong before and sometimes
Being wrong was alright, and
These days gave in too easy to the night,
So he hid and read and wrote in his
Room’s soft light, and
He got wine drunk and fell, again,
Maybe.
Meeting a Dentist at a Wedding in Kalispell
What is it to meet
the aging dentist who
seeks to thrive in electronica?
Maybe Michal Menert and
absolutely Kris Moon.
I’ll see you at the Badlander
probably
sometime soon.
But first tonight
in this yard behind a home
in Kalispell
at a table eating both
chicken legs and brisket
with mashed potatoes
and their skins. Continue reading
Let Me Die
See me,
hear me,
know me in my evil. Continue reading
The Word
Where did the word go?
I can barely muster prose.
I know, I know,
that’s just how it goes.
I don’t want to force it though.
There’s no poet without the poetry,
I suppose. Continue reading
Pantoums I Stole
I teach a creative writing course. I tasked my class with writing Pantoums or “found” poetry, where you lines from other people’s work to recompose a piece. I wrote two myself, using both prompts together. They suck, so they get to get posted here.
The Back Ups
When my mind is uncertain, my body decides
I laugh till I cry, I party all of the time
I’ve got them bad boy blues, baby
I need a spiritual cleansing.
I laugh till I cry, I party all of the time,
I don’t know what I’m gonna do
I need a spiritual cleansing
I like the in-betweens.
I don’t know what I’m gonna do
And there is someone out there just like me.
like the in-betweens,
I wanna contribute to the chaos.
There is someone out there just like me,
With them bad boy blues,
Wanting to contribute to the chaos.
And when my mind is uncertain, my body decides.
Shaky
Take a chance, roll them bones
Yeah, try to make a dollar from the grave
To fame and fire, to dame and dandy
I’ve got nothing on my mind but you
Try to make a dollar from the grave,
I know you can see it in my eyes
I’ve got nothing on my mind but you
One-track mind, one-way street
I know you can see it in my eyes
Who knew a man’s fate was such a hard thing to find
One-track mind, one-way street
Here I come, bored and lazy, here I come, no dignity
Who knew a man’s fate was such a hard thing to find
To fame and fire, to dame and dandy,
Here I come, bored and lazy, here I come, no dignity,
Yea, take a chance, roll them bones.
The Marriage of Samhain and Pomona (Old Poem)
A piece from this time last year. Little Halloween history poem for y’all…
The Marriage of Samhain and Pomona
I stumbled through all that fall foliage
To perform my duty as the last druid
And wed them before the full moon.
Ceremony aside, I aimed to find
A vampyre or witch to lie with
And send up magick sparks
Next to all those escaping bonfires.
Goal in mind, I was rather taken back
When asked to proceed to the bedding
And assist in some manner personal.
Samhain, brute he be
Wrapped me in his crimson arms
And asked this favor of me,
Bed Pomona in place of he.
She was too foreign a taste
A bitter little drink,
not what he wanted in a wife.
For her part, Samhain told me
This was her idea,
She did not want his stains on her robe
Nor the wild in her.
Thrice I declined, and thrice
They pushed and pulled,
Groping hands moving in waves
The moans of our lovemaking
Sent the beasts into a frenzy,
Such divinations I’ve never seen
As when Samhain forced Pomona on me.
They stuck an apple in my mouth
And a spit through my back,
Let a fire take the mattress
What a feast, at the midnight wedding
What beasts, my vampyre and witch
What release, this consumption of my flesh
What an end to the last druid priest.
Reveries (Fresh Poem)
Do you remember that summer
On the coast
When we walked on grey pebbles
And you didn’t ever wear shoes
Preferring to develop calluses and wounds
And leak blood into the Pacific
Do you remember that summer we spent
Washing whale bones
And you tried to teach me
Arabic phrases?
I know your secret now
All those stolen tongues
We stood in place We ran into each wave
Watching the sunrise and I held you under
Watching the sunset The current for too long
And when it vanished we cause I never learned to say no
Dug up the shoreline and you called it refreshing,
To see what it left behind offered to do the same for me
Do you remember how the car
Choked and coughed
When we forced it up that hill
The one with overgrown firs
And all the turnouts
To catch a glimpse of bathing deities
Do you remember that look on your father’s face
When I brought you home late
Smelling of beer and raspberry stains
In your hair, our only excuse
Was that we were both Leos
Do you remember that summer
We stood in place
Smelling of beer and raspberry stained
And you didn’t wear shoes
And made me say things like
Ana Bahebak Ya Amar
Cause I never learned to say no.
The Glow
What’s all the hoopla?
Appaloosas and strawberry roans
roam in beauty while
water vixens transform
but live only in the Puget Sound. Continue reading