Stitches: A SonnetThe surgeon's plump fist fit in the skull's half-scooped tub.
Stitching up, after the hemispherectomy,
each needle pump sealing off the left half's torn stub.
Grey, brainy clouds roll over missing metropoli
of all function and control, the mind's pup and cub,
neuron-storms over seas of phantom memory.
Only stitching remains to kilter the neck's hub.
Fontanel of Bible-black thread fed through holey
scalp-skin makes fusion from entropy's urgent drub.
Criss-crossing wire hems this fear: scars shaping bony,
knobby, crusty ridges, burbling up just to snub
the stitches, shed like baby teeth, and as lonely.
Right half on a pan, a nurse passed in bloody scrubs.
So the patient voided, avoiding ignomy.
The Craven: A Parody of PoeOnce upon a court inquiry, while my witness plead sincerely,The Craven: A Parody of Poe4 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Over whether or not he witnessed a murder on a mansion floor,
While I prodded, nearly smacking, suddenly there came a cracking,
As of someone's neck snapping, snapping behind the courtroom door.
"Tis some murderer," I muttered, "whacking behind the courtroom door.
Only this and nothing more."
Ah, we linked the oft dismembered mobsters of a chic September,
Yes, the mob's each dying member spilt their guts upon the floor.
Eagerly I swished espresso on the morn I named the torso,
She who until late fought escrow, clauses, deeds, and more.
A wry and wise defense attorney whose office door had read 'Dior.'
Jobless here for evermore.
And the sulking, sad and witless weeping from each extra witness,
Chilled, fulfilled me, raging 'tween the jury's and the judge's snores.
Yet now to hush my unbelieving mind, standing there conceiving:
"Tis some nameless witless witness bleeding 'hind the courtroom door,
Some late nameless witless witn
Come Home: A PantoumYou'll always come back to meCome Home: A Pantoum3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
when the lights in the far hills
are done searching. For, new beds
entice adventurers. Too,
when the lights in the far hills
come home, the homespun dream they
entice adventurers too,
but they can't. (Dream we're neither.
Come home.) The homespun dream they
turn pioneers to homebodies,
but they can't dream we're neither,
our wanderlust fit to turn
pioneers to homebodies.
We've always made love free, so
our wanderlust fit. To
turn ourselves towards our home
we've always made love. Free. So
when the last adventurers
turn themselves toward their homes
in faraway lands, I know,
when the last adventurers
are done searching for new beds
in faraway lands, I know
you'll always come back to me.
SpacefeintThe astronauts had no rear-view, lying vertical,Spacefeint5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
eyes to instruments affixed, octopoid arms aflight,
moving eerily as one
Like college-bound teens, they didn't look back,
the mother's faint tears smothered by
the thunder of flaming engines.
Old films and space museums first alerted their minor selves
to the intoxicating blue of the earth's
In the simulator, they swigged digital earthshine,
complex watertanks faking weightlessness --
the sim just wasn't the same.
Belts unbuckled, floating on ballerina feet, a speechless face
in each porthole, no one noticed the captain's
His hypoxic brain unbetrayed by gravity, his limp spine
erect, his outstretched hands drifting clouds,
his eyes wide shut.
In his dream: father sat stiffly at breakfast,
the paper clumped in each fist, with
Long before Jupiter's great red beauty spot, the iron
hearts of stars, the moon's cephalic
sea of tranquility:
an unbuttered crust of bread,
Anxiety Attackwith both eyes unfocused/Anxiety Attack5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
open my hand
contains the water falling on windows
the distant stars of traffic lights
as far as the eye can see
is in me, because with both eyes unfocused/
open one hand becomes two
now dared to deal
I'm two ghosts pretending to be one man
I'm worried you won't put me back together
see me as whole
see me as falling apart
I'm worried you'll never lose the photo of me
superimposed against the world
pregnant with it
and immortally unimportant
The 1998 HousefireThe 1998 Housefire at 198 Wentworth SouthThe 1998 Housefire6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Snow falling on cinders; falling on issues,
300, of Mad,
and Nintendo Power;
falling on a consoles red Cyclopean power (cooked
internally, blinking to black,
volumes of ongoing adventures, dreams of power,
my life in virtuosity, melting,
gooping into Grade One element comprehension);
falling on posters and curtains
gone up fire-fast, like Japanese letters read
falling on the bamboo-print
bed, the heat
to beat the heart;
falling on candles;
falling on bookshelves great with stomach
falling on shadows
I once hid from as from
a hungry ghost;
Falling where Nagasaki
where the ceilingwhere the roof
I feel the pain of everyone.
Then I feel nothing.
The Endocardium As We Know ItIt's the Endocardium As We Know it (And I Feel Fine)The Endocardium As We Know It5 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
That's great, it starts with a heart rate,
Palpitate arterial veins
My Mitral Valve is unafraid
Eat up a sugarcane, listen to your heart burn,
Lub serves its own needs, dubby serve your own needs,
Speed it up a notch: beat lungs, no, chest,
The bladder makes you fatter with pee bright yellow might
Fire up the wires beating 72 per minute
In a ventricle that's higher at a low-fat site.
Oxygen is coming through the larynx and pharynx
Breathing down your neck.
Beat by beat the quarters strangled, lumped, weathered, stopped.
Look at that fat chain.
Fine, then, uh oh, overflow, masticate the common food,
it won't do to save yourself, serve yourself organic snow peas
listen to your heart beat, dummy with a tummy feeling crummy
fat is quite light. You might have colic, diastolic-jam
bright white light fuzzing out your sight.
It's the endocardium as we know it. (I guess I'm just some bones)
It's the endocardium as we know it. (I guess I'm jus
Weep Western TearsDeep, swallowed in voiceWeep Western Tears6 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
Eye of the monastery
I weep Western tears
Swallowed in the Western eye
I weep tears of voice
Swallowed deep, I weep
In the eye of Western voice
Eye-deep, I swallowed
In the monastery, weep
Western voice of tears
BangsBangsBangs6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
it really doesnt matter father
said this is where she died
(everything that made winter here
bearable made summer death);
is there anywhere
death hasnt trespassed?
(Im not afraid)
any office, jail,
(I dont believe in heaven in the winter)
Pentagon warehouse, behind
lock after lock after lock after lock,
no crushed tick, no swallowed spider?
its much worse
biking beyond the bridge,
still breathing, unbearably heavy,
where, graduation night, years back,
(I dont believe in winter in the fall)
a sober wrist-snap kissed
grill to abutment,
the first day of the rest of our lives
spent leaving behind
and wilting bouquets
(mine, plastic, actually,
dont hate me)
lock after lock after lock after lock,
I slept where she died
in the attic
of his minds eye
Feather, Knife, and WifeUnpretentious princess at the lip of the wildFeather, Knife, and Wife5 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
broods on her position in the tribal order.
She's gritting her teeth at development's border
with weapons unfit to inspirit kismet's child.
An arrowhead barely tattoos the tractor tread,
A hand-axe fells not the crane its longevity.
Ironicallly, the machine's owe their brevity
to the First Spirit's black blood wrested from breast's red.
A computer geek morningstar, alive by chance,
going cold turkey off his electronic life,
stumbles from the rubble of Armageddon's fire,
surprised to discover unmolested expanse.
She trains him in the ways of feather, knife and wife,
First Spirit's gifts renew him, return him, rewire.
Monster PatientPatient monster making wishes on unbreakable glass,Monster Patient5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Knuckles a coin down his tree-knee fingers. Knotted,
A pretzel. I sweat the saps of his family tree.
A broken promise, I forget he's in there, staring,
Patient monster backs into the dark to stain my
Glass prison with ghost lips, empty eyes. Gaiety and pomp
Make me their marionette. Curious cat. Cold-calling chaplain.
Existence, a whisper from the shattered throat of a
Patient monster evaporates into dreamy clouds,
The toxic hallways soak up, a dewy cocoon.
Distrusting, glassy warden. Deserted, happy, and
Cold. Shivering foetus. Awaiting the return of my
The MummyMummy is exhaustedThe Mummy5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
From standing on what feels
Your scraped knees and elbows, scars and scabs
Mummy woke up too old
To remember his withered up snake, his broken flute, his dead wife,
Says don't let him sleep past a nap this time
Mummy is in an existential funk,
Is worried he'll live
To bury another child, more flesh and bone and whatever
Big TopLadies and gentlemen, astromen, and courtesans,Big Top4 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
Your undivided attention for a second please.
Tonight you're gonna see things that'll turn you on your earrings,
If you've got a weak stomach aim it at your knees.
Please turn off your pagers pass along and sign the waivers,
Someone will be by shortly to collect your names.
Before we raise the curtain please be sure that you are certain
That your children can be hushed we don't have time for games.
First, direct your eyes up to the woman in the skies.
Mothers, should you shield your daughters from her siren song
They'll turn forever cursed to wander vainly o'er the earth,
Longing for a lover, legs half as strong.
Next, Felix will juggle just as sure as he will struggle
To escape a straight jacket from the bughouse, see.
Then Adelaide and Adeline drink marmalade and pickle brine
While singing Kiss Me Under The Banana Tree.
Now I need a volunteer not vexed to lose an ear,
Man enough to a put a shoulder to the wheel.
But if Mena should miss,