poetry

Fifty-three-year-old Elaine decided she was done
with dating. Doug’s online profile stated he was a
psychoneuroimmunologist. As they walked to the
restaurant, he said he was intrigued by the Maple
tree’s marcescence. As they dined, he explained
he recently had laryngotracheobronchitis and was
reading a book about the deinstitutionalizing of 18th
century counterrevolutionaries. He expressed a
dislike of felines because they were Zuigerphobics.
Before dessert, Elaine realized she suffered from
hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia—-
(a fear of big words,) and had to leave the cafe.

2 mexican
men
breaking
for lunch
from the
car wash
next door.

they carry
tall
sweaty
ice cold
beers
in 97
degree heat.

their smiles
are the smiles
of an
american’s
first time
in paris
or children
on christmas
morning.

for 1 hr.
they will
laugh
in the Face
of
an America
that has
us all
by
the balls.

they will
laugh
at whoever
promised
their
independence
upon arrival.

they will
laugh
at the
lost art
of a
mid-afternoon
buzz
in the
Face of
the Man.

they will
laugh
b/c
it’s all
you
can do
when you
realize
the irony
of it
all.

they are
not
breaking
for lunch
so much
as they
are breaking
for Freedom.

It was bad weather for an exhibit
With ominous clouds that conquered the air
And the gallery seemed to inhibit
Those colors destined to drive out despair
The sign said, “Touch, we will not prohibit”
So, my father plopped himself in a chair
At the window, in a manner most crass
He fell asleep with his foot on the glass!

like a rotating crane
towers over a
foundation pit.
you ever think
you can all the way
finish? I know,
man, I know
that you can't, but
then sometimes
I wish it: that we could
just build and be
done, having built it;
not maintain
for the rest of our
stink-fucking
parasite
lives.

I’ve never been
psychoanalyzed.
At least, not by experts.
Can’t afford it.
But readers,
that’s a different story.
One once said I was
an alienated but feeling soul,
haunted and humble,
with an exposed and vulnerable
feminine side
and an ingrained access
to the creative unconscious.
He bought my book.
He paid me.

who
.........are
.........you
.........really 

a question
.........of
.........merely

an answer
.........or
.........a
.........game

when I wake
.........I
.........face
.........it

the night
.........shifts
.........into
.........day

the dream
.........fades
.........and
.........I
.........can’t
.........remember
.........what
.........happened

there was
.........a
.........man
.........in
.........a
.........mask

a
.........forest
.........made
.........of
.........spiderwebs

and
.........a
.........woman
.........wit
.........no
.........mouth

she
.........smiled
.........and
.........I
.........was
.........jealous

In dreams
.........we
.........are
.........free

to be
.........anything
.........we
.........want

but waking
.........is
.........a
.........different
.........story
.........altogether

Preposterous commerce within humanity
Filtered indignation like salt above soil
Negate all physical and mental insincerity
In order to place cheers to millions of souls
Hardships indeed unite us