The Strength a Sword Wields"The Strength a Sword Wields"More Like This
The sleepy young hero rode upon his horse,
As through the woods the latter plodded,
Trying his best to stay awake,
The boy's head constantly nodded.
He thought of a duel,
Which he had recently won,
Against a Knight Commander of Hyrule,
It had been lots of fun.
The Knight Commander of Hyrule
Had indeed been taken by surprise,
At the strength of the young boy
And the fierce look in his eyes,
So he had asked the youth
Who had forged his blade,
But the boy said he didn't know,
For he'd found it in a forest glade.
The commander wanted to know
What gave the blade strength,
For it was a short little thing
Less than three feet in length.
The boy did not answer him directly
But instead asked of him then,
A number of questions
For him and all of his men.
What strength wields a sword,
Beyond the keenness of it's edge?
What power holds a man,
But for his own deeds and pledge?
What use is the blade of any weapon,
When it lacks a guiding hand?
What good is the word of a
Spacethere's this canyon between us.More Like This
it's pretty wide
and I'm not sure
if I've got the right tools on hand
I've got a coil of black rope,
a small boat,
and a flame.
I'd throw the rope,
if it had the grapple hook
for clawing into rocks.
A boat cannot sail across
a canyon made of air
and so I'd have to pray
for the rain of a thousand storms
to bring a flood
that would have carried Noah
past the emerald city
and right back home to Kansas.
I don't know
that what we had
is worth the trouble.
Maybe it's best to just light this flame
and wait for night to fall.
If you saw it shining
would that be enough to let you know
that I still care
even from across this great expanse?
degausserdear magnets:More Like This
have you’ve seen what they’ve done, (those and their ilk)
to this place …
endorsing alternative milk
while their new sun unveiled colors the sky
strange shades of octopus
and the vitriol below
is confusing every tauto-
logical role in its swell
oh dear magnets –
refresh your Petrusian fields
for these days are long and
and dear magnets they wouldn’t mind
making you their next meal
untitledi have written you into the linesMore Like This
of my skin
and you have taken my bones
and cracked them
across your knees.
You, NeverYou have never seen cloudsMore Like This
that float through the air like ribbons;
charmed and magic space between
the plain and lake,
eerie as the sun-set darkens the reeds
and we fly toward home-
down the ribbon of asphalt snake
that had/has no head except
in my dreams.
You have never seen farmers
hock and spit out the windows
of beaten orange pick-ups
against sparkling, startling blue
winter missouri dawn, as the sun-
rise blankets the snow with painful
light and the rutted dirt roads turn
the tires, driving you along
You have never run through spring
fields chasing after your first boy-love
bounding from fence-post to fence-post and
stepped into a hole, only to go sliding on
harsh fescue leaving welts of the whip
on your flat abdomen, to gain mother-ly
You have never masturbated out into the
ether of Estes mountains, run wild from the
group, nearly died in crashing river falls
crazed from coke, dehydration, marijuana,
endless denver beers, slept in a porno apartmen
bone nibbler40 days without water the ground steadying itselfMore Like This
with your body the labia of the magma, faculty of the volcano
like a helpless child. swinging on amniotic black ropes,
you allow the power to leach from you because at the other end of the desert
there is a destination
that cannot be reached by lego blocks of goal-setting and other drivel
like bring your own gasoline to the pity party.
then bathe in it and drink like the sickness of a wicker man
and tell your mothers cherry trees blossomed. they will love it
on the pimply braille of expunged chipped-off bark
it is because at the end of the journey the tv will switch to colour
the equilibrium will shift it will be uncanny
it might be death. you continue
hacking away on the off chance tha
River MuninWe're crossing the riverMore Like This
from insanity to home
the ripples in the water reflect memory
the creatures within the water smirk and giggle at past pains
I walk on down the bank
continuing onto new paths
new pain, new happiness
everything changes all the time
the leaves on the trees fall
the river turns to ice
the leaves grow once more
the river flows again
the raven upon the old oak squalls of isolation
as his brothers pick apart the deer
the raven's brothers continue to laugh as they dine on death
there's more to be had on the road
Takeaway Box, February 2015 (22nd)More Like This
How much XP
does the modern world hold?
There, the chippie-gold
paper basket, the salmon bronze
in a hovel of twigs.
Dungeon of leaves
holding Man's treat,
a family surprise.
Every car here is red.
Camouflaged boxes whistle white noise
I drum my fingers on the wooden fence-wall
and gain a greenish tint,
curl me upskip to the slipping stonesMore Like This
trip to the ripping loam
oh, this earth, this birth
this vivisected skirting board
you are a bottle emptied
i slid down your neck and slept
inside you for days, a lost ship
no hips, the larger death,
the gasp between atoms
the past between lanterns
the thin way through. the dim
skin of you. sharpshod, lap of
shadows. you there, crawl into
me. i will hold you. armed
very simply, no rifles here
in this cloud of your breath
where we live. this sound of
death in our ears. one of the
things we don't talk about is
the silence inside my sleeves
and the rain you're carrying
with you. it drowns me when
we're together and tearing but
you smile and i cannot choke
i cannot know these roughs.