How I Roll

I ache in your absence
which is really fucking stupid,
if you ask me
– which you didn’t –
because you ask after me
only when convenient
in my presence
when in sight
when you think of it
while I ask of after you

Not that I say it to you
‘cuz I don’t play like that.
That’s not appropriate.
It ain’t sophisticated.
It’s not how I roll.
I ache in your presence
but I’d never advise you of that fact
or speak to you at all
you know,
what am I:
an adult?

I wish you were here
I wish we could talk.
I wish I had balls.

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Or Something Like It

He had suggested
I watch this amazing docu-series
about the history of civilization
named History of Civilization or something like that
on the streaming service of choice
but I told him
that I preferred
to get physical media
from the library
because I liked the limitations
of having to go to the location
and look for the item
and take it out
and bring it back
and put it on
before consuming it.

I said to him
that there is too much ease
in my world
and too much product available
and without limitations
I would simply sit
in my safe American home
watching thing after thing
after thing after thing
until my eyes and ears
and nose and butt
bled and seeped
and sighed and cried
and wept and warped
until finally imploding
in shapes unimagined.

He nodded slowly
at my sage words
and considered cancelling his streaming service
and I walked away
allegedly to go to my library
but really
to ask my mother
if she’d let me have full rights
to her streaming service

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A New Day

So we’ll get some more seeds.
We’ll find another place to plant.
We’ll break the frozen ground
and dig a hole
and make a fresh start
with a new crop
somewhere else
somewhere fresh
somewhere new.

It can happen.
It’s possible.
It happens a million times
for a million farmers
on a million planets
in a million galaxies
in a million realities
across the multverse
known and unknown
so why not here?
Why not now?
Why not today?

We’ll get some seeds.
We’ll start over.
Maybe this time zucchini.

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Toes and Nose

When I look back on all the poems I wrote about you
– some of them even good –

I have to say
and I cannot repeat this enough
I am very very
very very very
very very very very
VERY sorry
that I spent so much time
circling your orbit
wasting your time
with my obvious desperate attention.

As I read this tome of text I devoted

to your eyes
your thighs
and everything in-between
(and also toes and nose.
I was nothing if not a completest)
I see how sad I was
in such a recent past,
so deliberately dedicated

to a cause that couldn’t last.

Thank you for being so patient with me.
You didn’t have to be so nice.

I clearly loved you anyway
but I appreciate the kindness you expressed
to a kid
who didn’t know what to do
with himself

or with you
when I was so young
all the way back

a month or two.

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Everything I say is impertinent.
How dare I?
What right do I have
to your time
or attention?
Who am I
to impose so self-righteously
with such impetuous ego?
The balls on me!
The temerity.

I don’t deserve what I ask,
I know that.
I never have.
I’m not worthy of your mention
or anything more
that’s been clear
well before the start
and I’m glad of every instant
that you ignore that fact
so thank you for this opportunity
here with you
and every day like it
and, while I have your attention,
if your stiletto could perhaps be moved
from the bridge of my foot,
that would be –

All right then.

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Back Then

Back Then
The hill seemed so much bigger then
the halls so much wider.
That light up there
it was dim
and this hallway was ominous
not quite scary, but
it was better to get down it

Those were days
back then
– not like today.

Everything seems smaller now,
The world, compartmentalized,
all in its proper little boxes,
has none of the excitement
of back then
when every corner
held delights or terrors
each in equal measure
waiting to be uncovered
at the very next step.

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Institution Fires

If the republic
is not the republic
and the ideals we have sought to safeguard
have been disregarded
or left the building like some Fat Elvis
now lodged in a bathroom of hubris
choking on diamonds of discontent
and fluffernutter pies

If what we cared for
what we worked for
what we woke for
what we fought for…
if it fails
if it falls
then so be it.

There comes a day
in every boy’s life
when he looks at the things he has done
and he sees that they are shit
and the people around him are shit
and all the things that he believed in last week
that he made every effort to prop into castles
have in fact sagged into shit
if ever they were anything but.

You can put out fires every day
of every week
of every fucking second
but it only takes another second
of an eye off the prize
for the fire to take hold
and lick at your innards
and flame out your home.

and no one complimented your fluffernutter recipe.
Let it be.
Let it burn.
Burn it down.

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Songs About Rivers

Whatever stories you tell at the ocean’s edge
Whatever lies you may cry to your lover
or any other
at the lip of the lake
or any other place you may find yourself
Whatever songs you write about the river,
the river don’t care.

Nature is inured to your interest
and has been for billions of instants
as you have expressed your artistry
or whatever you call it
to the trees or the sky
or the birds or the waves
– they don’t give a shit why you think.

The river doesn’t want your poems
or your songs or dances
or cookies or films.
None of it offers the earth
an iota of aid.
I mean,
feel free to continue, though.
The river won’t mind.
The river won’t notice you
at all.

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When they put you to the test
When they decide how to judge you
When the light is put firmly and solidly to you
with the wattage up
and the blaze flaring before your one good eye
When they glare and interrogate
and ask you their questions
and choose to come to conclusions
as to just what you are
When they put you in the spot
to figure out the spot
they will put you in next
and next
and next

When they put you to the test
you are put to another test
but not by them.

You can chose
to be judged by them
or to judge yourself.
You can pass their tests
or your own.
you can decide
as many of do
where their goals and yours
and then master what skills they wish
so that they fit your master plan as well.

All these are options
multiple choices before you.
Never forget, though,
as the lights blaze
before your sweating one good eye,
just who may be the master.
Never forget
whose test it is
you must finally pass.

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Will fuck for food.
Will fuck for shelter.
Will fuck for sleep
for cash
for fun.
Will fuck for peanut butter pie
every fucking day
– every fucking hour
of every fucking day.
will fuck for any sort of cake, really,
even day old.

Will fuck for work.
Will fuck for fun.
Will fuck for love
or lust
or the listless abandon
of a lazy Sunday morning
if the opportunity presented itself.
Will fuck if the opportunity presents itself.

Will fuck for candy.
will fuck for clothes.
Will fuck for the choice between
either one if those.
Will fuck for sex.
Will fuck to end the argument
or to end the conversation
if it’s going in an uncomfortable way.
Will fuck for forty minutes
or forty seconds
depending on your available time frame.

Will fuck as long as I can keep holding this sign up.
just as long
as I can
it up.

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