First Crush

How do I express my ignored teenage certainties about what I was feeling

Like a drunk puppy on ecstasy and Xanex mixed with rainbows showering lollypops

Everybody has that virgin vomiting all-in emotion

Illogical and overwhelming intoxication that is

Carried out in a completely non-pragmatic fashion

That is destined for failure in its complete lack

Of structural integrity of an emotional overture

Due to the lack of self-confidence, randomized promises

Overt desires saddled on unsubstantiated reciprocation

That if ever possible is totally demolished and nipped

Before fertilization by the arrogance of the assumption

That the paradox of wanting someone so infinitely

To intertwine with their future daily occurrences

Despite a functional ignorance about the true

Historical content of that other person’s life

In the nature of attraction to magnetize to the polarized

Of who ignores us and implores us to sniff up other legs

Batting our noses away like extra hundred dollar bills

Hellicopter-ing off rooftops in down-town Manhattan

For a millionaire super-model who seems trifled by our presence

More concerned with manicure appointments and saving the whales

Such superstars in our visions colliding with our own indecisions

Acting and not-acted out in the dream halls of our own heads

Of what he or she would say if only we had our day

To explain all of who we are and why this was meant to be

God-damn beautiful judged by the crowd and that is the only sound

Ever needed to put us on the scent trailing a never-lover to bathe him or her in compliments, Never becoming real or tangible

Just a testament to attraction to keep it manageable

One day we’ll look back and laugh at this hoopla littering our path

Of a face that won’t remember that we’ll remember until our life’s December

Eulogy

One day there will be a hearse, black coats and a verse

Someone else will read about dust and dust and how we must

Shed a tear for the end of your time here, but

I can’t say I won’t bring a kazoo to bid farewell

Blow it to drown out the other’s boo’s, because

I guess they never knew the you I knew

Asshole so profound,

Ha, Ha, you’re dead and I am so happy now

I think birds will sing, babies will bring a middle finger

To salute your picture on the obituary

While I piss on your coffin lying stationary

Down in your little empty hole, plenty big to fit a vapid soul                          

You had your family fooled wearing pimped out suits

Making corporate rules, donating your time

To the eradication of listening to common sense and

Persecuting appreciation like a Nazi genocide on compliments

So certain to keep your distance and firebomb any resistance

Sabotage your own life just to spite me and my sentiments

Of love and genuine concern that betrayal was a better lesson learned

Good riddance you emotional free-loading bastard

Incendiary dreams beautiful and fraught with an arsonist’s finger prints

May I one day see you actually die of embarrassment

By falling backwards onto a freeway to slump beneath a passing

Dump truck as your family finally figures out your plastic secrets

As your years of chunky passive-aggressive accoutrements

Pile on top of your rotting corpse left alone for days until

Stray canines raffle off limbs like conciliation prizes for not

Finding something more palatable in an open sewer

Gnawed away and stranded next to a jumble of cardboard boxes

In a hobo city where I can flip over a urine soaked T-Shirt to collect 

Your remnants to conduct a parody-filled mock-funeral

Where I can invite your Ketamine injecting friends

And cocaine snorting adulteresses to share a blow-job liqueur shot in your honor

A letter to a stranger

A letter to a stranger

I am not sure what is going on in your life, but I am trying to move on with mine.

I have diminishing hopes that I will be able to set up a new home for our daughter and I by Christmas, because of the lack of a response from your end regarding the settlement of our property issues.  The prolonged time frame has postponed the sense of potential closure such a transition would provide.  From the limited discussions we have had regarding the dissolution of our marriage and the evolving environment we have created for our daughter since the enactment of that cessation, I thought we could at minimum agree that once the custody agreement was made whether by our mutual agreement or by judicial decree that we would allow each other the liberation to move on with our lives. 

I know we don’t talk.  We don’t converse on some level other than the imaginary, mandatory, superficial, or regarding our genuine mutual love and concern for our daughter.  You know I never wanted to get divorced.  As if all my pleas meant as cotton swabs came across as arrow points, my words even now feel as futile as the fingers of a wave across Gibraltar.  There are pieces of all of this that I have resigned in my heart that I may never understand or be able to mend completely.  But I know that this is what you want and so I have let you go to live as you wish.  Please let me do the same.

Sincerely,

Cotton balls

Launching cotton balls from catapults

The inner constitution of my retribution

Can not muster the fortitude to combat your assaults upon our castle

I can not slay that which is so a part of myself

As if the hydra heads of your explanations

Waft in spasms of spaghetti tree trunks of emotional wrecking balls

Flailing limp under logical inspection, yet busting voids in my visage

Expelling and extracting my internal compliment like a Jenga tower

That without you, the balancing act to my high school inadequacies

Were no longer counter-weighted and left thundering in a thud

Of psychological bombardment upon my id floor

To shatter and germinate seedlings like mogwai into gremlins

For me to combat in my quiet hours

In the solitude I find my sword, sharpened and steady in sheath

Thrust from the hilt of certainty

That I may never flail upon you with blood lust

But I will not let this garden to rot for the fungus and overture of reckless inattention

And so I strike my plowshare upon the dirt

To replant, uproot, and extinguish the scent of spoiled flesh

For a tendril of an orchid to entwine upon a sunrise

Grasping that which is greater than you

Last Request

I run to you with drenched pockets

Flipped out over the street like faucets unhinged blabbering 

Buckets of munched up nonsense

Crinkled like derailed train cars in an accordion of information

Gasping to extol upon your doorstep as if

Edison and Bell had never conjectured a time frame for conversing

From any greater distance, I ran from Negril to Seattle to say

Change your mind and find my exasperation trepidation

Of all you are leaving behind to seep back in your conclusions

Like water sliding across the top of a glacier slipping in and melting that

Which always-would-be like solid granite melting in panic

That what-if what-was, was not what you thought

Counteracted in raw decision making absent the logic and needs

That spent you to say you were leaving could some how reverse

And bring us back to something in-tacked

On a Wire

Her and I on a wire with crows feet spread gripped in a murder

Of shedding feathers, drifting off watching passers

A boy walks around a bumper of punk band stickers on a blue Ford Escort

To open a door for a girl in a canary yellow dress

With a smile as big as the whole, she is waiting for his gesture

The mist of a memory echoes from her lips in a forgotten slip

The aperture of her aorta’s outlet lets out a wasp of appreciation

To tip the aroma to his nostrils like catnip

To know the action like a sunrise after staying up all night watching reruns

Ending and beginning mixed in a medley of what was coming to be

Before their eyes like playthings dangling for surprise

To touch like ballerina tip toes

Diving in like Caribbean cliffs on summer days of crystal clear waters

Plummeting in for perfect sand dollars spent on years washed

In sunshine, refracted light blinds a memory

In ticks and twinges of pieces shattered like a fallen mirror

Seeing in slivers of what she said on a Monday in December

Crack that light and fail to remember the shards that bled

Out into stale smells and slipping toes, her flying off and a re-opened nose

Apple bottom

Never been on that end of the conversation,

Pulsed in a passion in a must instead of a passing whim

Color me in on the gray of a role I have never played

Of being in a position to say no, to crush a dream

To break apart the cortex of someone that seems

So certain and determined that faith had grown roots in

A feeling of yearning of knowing that options were turned inside

Out like a pillow case holding the pace of a day, a week

A life daring to speak its in intentions that a soul

Could not fathom failing to mention,

I need you and want without a fear of the hunt

To be left alone in the wilderness frigid and bare as

Autumn sheds to winter’s nudity

Getting to read a letter reaching out a beauty discerned in the amount

Of faith someone else could have in me, to ask

To plead to keep the apples baking under her American skin

A hearth for an always in of sweetness and strength

Closing in on a savored taste of Thursday afternoons in November

Harvest without protest and red lips like sacraments

Pushed in and ready covered in spiraled off apple peels

To a core of white flesh hoping to explore the seed

Bare as there can be asking for me