BiologyBiologyBiology7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
They didnt teach us anything important
in high school. I remember you,
negotiating with your back to the class
in those giant 80s glasses,
as the teacher took a break from his boys own stories
of pissing tigers
and Vietnamese cobras swaying in the tall grass
to expose himself: Being beautiful isnt enough
to get you through life,
Now at his age, I sit in front of my laptop
at an upscale bar and lay you open
over a California roll, chicken tortilla soup, and coffee
with cream: It seemed like life would be easy
for you. Has it been?
You reply that you were in your twenties
before you started to see who you were
from Gods perspective.
Is that how I had always seen you?
Even after twenty years, I could still unpack
like a baby pigs heart
out of all that nasty mess.
The Instinct of CellsThe Instinct of CellsThe Instinct of Cells7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
beauty softens each of us
like an egg soaking in vinegar,
but I have always been soft,
soft as baby fuzz,
a flabby soul
stuffed into my skin
like sausage meat inside a hog casing.
I have no idea what its like
to have to kill,
to jump out of an airplane,
to learn I have cancer.
I spray lavender-vanilla mist on my pillow
to help myself
the hardest thing in my life
was when my dad died. they tattooed
little dots on his head
to help them aim their rays. his hair
started to fall out. luckily,
he didnt have much to lose.
I correspond over the Internet
with a young woman
in England. she takes shape
as if from memory
out of digitized snapshots
and sound bites
and words. her long hair once shimmered
under a fading
sun. she writes soft
poetry and reads it into her computer.
her breath whispers
in the microphone
like the sound of television snow.
I remember the look on my dads face
as he hung up the phone
OlderTime is a lonely bastard child. I knowOlder6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
how it feels.
I explore the spaces inside, moist hollows
where the angels once worked
their mischief. Strange
what you can grow accustomed to. I probe
the old scar tissue: smooth, numb
in places. I imagine I can feel
their shades, tactile afterimages: a zombie
reflex, a longing
for a longing. It pulls
at the center of my chest.
I miss the certainty of need.
I examine new possibilities, take
steps, show interest, craft a proposition,
cut a book deal. I have always been honest,
for others, even at my worst. I read. I write.
I observe, offer advice. Business is easy
to come by.
I have my way with words.
I nurture the spark, zap
it with alternating current, breathe life
into the old girl. She gags,
stutters for breath, settles into a ragged
purr. Obsolete and in need
of a tune-up, but serviceable. Not so nearly
Snow Fell...Snow fell on my house, and I thought of you.Snow Fell...10 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Out dancing Thursday night, I thought of you.
Feel your fire; feel my love inside you so
Bright... I almost wish that I felt alone
Again. I want an excuse to call you
And tell you how often I think of you.
Almost. I stroke the face of my cell phone
With my thumb, teasing the latex buttons.
I think and think and then rethink anew
Of a heartfelt whimper, a fevered moan,
The smell of you. I think of what you've done
To me and what I'd like to do to you.
Oh, frail girl, how I long to sicken you
And reap the harvest of these dreams we've sown.
PostpartumPostpartumPostpartum10 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Heartache has nothing to do with the heart. It crouches in the
center of the chest. You don't fall out of love. A switch is thrown.
The light fades.
You wait at the end of the fireworks show. Will there be another
You've thought, This is it, before. You try to make it come back,
make it hurt the way it used to, try to bring it into focus, feel the
heft of it. Were you ever really in love at all?
A dampened orgasm. A stifled sneeze.
You replay things in the cinema of your mind and search through
your love notes.
Human babies die if you don't hold them.