at the church-wall
with bibles opened to Psalms we mourn our deaths. telephones ringing, a dirty
cloth, a pet licking/gnawing his tail. flies hovering around, liquor odiferous,
mother higher than normal. the blood trickles, I sweat fluids, weed wafting
like smoke-chains. the gray-goose in our psyches it gets uncomfortable some can’t
handle getting stripped. I palm a nail I look at nanny I see elders looking to
partake. it didn’t kill us but it altered us, we’ll never get ourselves back. I
walk with kids they’ve questions wild little misfits eager to grow wings. so
snotty some clean or some a bit angry. we chat about passions like wishes so
sad to see where it could go: a deadman a lost-man, or a girl flitting through
travesties. needing a bulwark longing for heart-fire or someone to protect while
protected in return.
I hit the gravesite I was a bit
aflame it was a mile since sobriety. a matchbook, a cigarette, a conversation,
swearing he could hear me. tears dropping, memories flickering, a log pitted in
our guts. all alone a familiar feeling so framed to die at birth. a man loves a
friend, a friend loves his life, we’re sniped like target practice – a sister
losing sanity a father outlived a sin to apologize – running amuck, stabbing a
Caprice, many forgot about the gravehouse.
seeing his future
seated but sullen where one says, “Stop that shit!” what? memories, seclusion,
a president of his sorrows. so gassed-out so much tyranny, like we mastered
misery. the bottle shatters the hex is loosened the pit is violent. a luck-charm,
moving through traffic, a definite destination. awakened early. sought for
reassurance. speaking to a woman nine times my age – sulking into absorbing
like whispers a late night the closet was a soul.
certain allergies
rough realities life-daring anticipation; destined to lose, defying realism, at
a world comfortable with status quo. momma is blasted, pops is mannish, family
into machination. one is better. it’s just that way. regardless of
advertisements. so angry so humble while most need a specimen. too relaxed so
uptight so contradictory – made by paradox, alive it seems, sunk into a well
bleeding its longevity. baptized. another excellence. while Protestant means up
against those fires.
so amazed by friction our
gravitation as to anything hated by the dominant degrees. in truths, we move towards
pedigree, at tense acclamation, so wild how I must first let go.
