Friday, March 11, 2011

circa 2007 poems

nothing more than a glorified compass

I pursue.


by he finish
I still do not know

what is nothing more


like a bird preparing to sing
who dies beginning to whistle

it has come to my attention
his soul does not linger

otherwise I would not so often
fail to complete a thought


sauntered he, stumbled she

the funeral of the boy
from the bodies of two
he did not understand, no
command not used frequently, so

the day the boy hobbled into the road
no, could not save the boy
from the jaws of a careening truck


did they not love him?

i cannot agree with my father when he says
they did not. they failed in the parenting,
duty it was theirs to learn the boy-
staple his brain! no


we wait for you.
(?edit 352011: for the boy i will wait alone.)


a tickling in between my eyes at first
and a scratch on the inside of he bride of my nose
and at once as if a surfaceless balloon inside
my sinus spaces is rapidly inflated
and approaches the top of my skull or more likely
the bottom of my brain
the air inside the balloon must have an adhesive element to it,
part of my grey is
seized and forced to slide along the root of my
mouth and nasal cavities, expelled into the
adding what to the climate, I am unsure.

a sneeze is a queer thing

i do not do my weirdnesses justice

i am want to create myself in
a fresh brazen colloquial voice

*i may write about snot, thanks to the first of Ulysses.


Upon Passing a Landfill.

decaying pass
excrement garden
choking winds
crinkling tendancies
marinated in the
incense of garbage
discarded belongings
unfinished meals
dirtied garments
and crisscrossed toiletries;
the marraige of
soil and the soiled
is consummated
with every breath
of the passersby


today i helped my gigantic bellied mother pick the weeds out of the garden next to the driveway that is gravel. i dislike it, but enjoy people step onto it barefoot, which happens more than you'd think. they look kind of like they're warming up for a dance routine involving a lot of complicated footwork, and, apparently,
a lot of facial theatrics.
maybe it is to African tribal music because
they yelp and "ooh," "ah," "oh!"
and the like.