Poems for Early Summer
This is a small collection of poem drafts (draughts?) dedicated to the imminent solstice.
squirrel. Squirrel.
I'm being
watched by a pigeon.
My
ass takes up approximately
2.93 bricks and mortar.
More bird.
A little robin guy nearby.
I'm being watched by two
pigeons now. My grandma said
her brother looked
like a sasquatch. It's a
strange word,
squirrel. Squirrel. I look
up to the squirrels who
cross roads and eat without looking.
The Shit I Learn-ed....?
Change your pickle water once a day
for sixteen and a half days, and that's
just one of the things I know. There's
free water behind every Bojangles if
you have the right tool and parables are
worthless if you can't see in the dark.
There is no hi-jet on a bronchial endoscope
and if your joint canoes, burn the canoe. See
the paper through the page just as you would
a jar for the pickles. Dance the way your great-
aunt would dance in 1985. Watch out for
beers, they'll getcha. Don't eat with your nose
closed, or your nose. Never ever use off-brand
Post-It notes or those orange-ish yellow ones,
canary yellow, only.
Always skip breakfast, never lunch, lunch alone
often and lunch with friends even more often.
Fly a kite on the beach. Sing to the moon on
long drives. Let loose. Reclaim your place
whenever you can (or can't). Put peanut-butter
on both sides of the bread and put your name
on everything you own.
Haiku #009
This fleeting moment
of magnificent bliss
is all that matters.
Sixteen Cups of Tea I always felt, where it's all left out, let's make a break for it, eat out, milk it, learn the banjo naked, cook for the queen and fuck the king, save the worms, not one man, it begins with a word, just like us, cut up, cut cheese, down low, killing the species, writing Jackson, eating the candle wax, writing mom, starring in something, leading you on, fridging it, you could design it, steal the planet, boof a pagan ritual, type it (if it even matters), fly, grill out, fry up, wash it down, bread n' butter, soap in a cup, she walks the land, heavy head, neon pants, a picture frame, keys of lead, golden gates, an empty tube of SpongeBob toothpaste, a million miasmas, hers to taste, a brown balloon, hers to take, hit the range, three men of tain, her song of songs, a day without rain, empty lawnmowers, dried out soup, Fabuloso, exotic expat worms, cotton-candied Family Guy, a bible made of chocolate, overdue, look out, on the mirror, in the toilet, on the wall, meditating, transcending, unneeding, unending, undeserving, unlearning, desire.
Lunar Love
And so like the shadows under
your feet is the moon to shine
so bright. So meek to the others
but not to me. You speak the
lunar language I yearn to understand
but know is birthed. Stupid
are successful, why do I push myself
away? Climb the hole again. The whole
of myself again. I need you, I don't.
Ultra Death Chess Club Initiation Sequence Eating a bag of Original Ruffles next to an incomplete chess board. Your move to the next big place took my face. Next to the elucidatarian sea who aspires malignant change. And now, some pretzels. The queens face off. Between her lesbian nuns with her little yellow hat and her little coal shoes which are still too big and she stands there washing her hands between her lesbian nuns who wear black bonnets like shellacked roaches, Shakespearean sonnets, perfect and polished. To her left, a black hat halted, Sister Margaret, to her right, a scowling Pam. "'Start when you can,' said Scowling Pam," said the sitting man waiting for her little hand to move, to stand.
Thank you for reading my poem drafts.