A few short poems

"The Hangover"

Last night I drank too many things,
as I never learned not to mix.

I woke up to find rain-soaked clothes
Scattered through my empty room.

[You said love was money and money, love,
So I had nothing for you.]


and.this.blood.soaked.morning.while.you.brunched
i.vacuumed.up.crumbs.at.work



"Good Rain Music"

If I hadn't listened to Corinne that night
Driving to Carolina through the storm
I probably still would have cried,
probably still wished myself dead,
And definitely still've known that i'd miss you all my life.

But if I hadn't listened
to sweet, soft, Corinne,
I probably
wouldve thought
that i
was the
only
one.



"Untitled"

Lately I see poetry in everything around me,
but most of
my poems
are sad

Pictoral Predestination

There is one photo of me
From a few years back
(When my hair was longer
And my eyes squinted in the sun)

Where i feel
that i look
exactly
like my father

It's something in the way my mouth is curving --

i look at it and wonder if i am a 50-something straight man.

fuckfuckfuckfuck
fuckfuckfuck

calvin has a weird way of playing hobbes

A Spring Haiku

Tyranny falling,
Buds on trees begin to bloom...
O Wynter, fuck you.

Ode to Some Dude

Cute boy in the coffee shop window,
come and caffeinate me.

The line's moving up and you're
already outside
of my
view
..,

These Small Steps

I run across the yard,
My feet pitter-pattering over fallen walnuts
The weight of my thick legs breaking sticks and crushing leaves

Into your door I fly,
My heart still racing head still spinning
I come into the kitchen like a tornado touching down

A few seconds pass,
And then you notice me standing beside you
Slowly you straighten your legs and rise up with great care

Before long, I run home again, my muscles moving in sync together, taking that short distance like it is nothing. I move fast.

Before long, I think about what you said, that you've only got a few more good years left, and then you'll be gone. Time passes quickly.

Before long, these small steps will be laborious, and it will take more energy to stand than it did to run from house to house, from sea to sea. Things change elusively.

Before long, alone in the city, I will wait to hear the pitter-patter of a young man running to me, moving so freely.

Slowly
I will
stand and
realize
I was just
hearing
things

Woman on 16th Street

You found god
On the street tonight
With your ugly coat and dog
And your tale of eviction.

You found god
When, once I ceded my dollar,
You shouted god bless you
And I said, umm, you, too

You had found god
But you lost her a bit later
As you bought a pack of Reds
And a store-brand diaphragm.

"Aftermath" - a short poem based on a dream I had...

I held you there
At the end of the world
You felt so small,
But then, so did I.
I remember mother saying
In the end it'd just be us,
But I had always hoped
That I'd find someone to love.

I looked for him there
With the sun exploding
Our earth the sacrificial lamb
Of god's cold intent.
But he'd already fallen off
The edge of our existence
And I found myself wondering
Why I still screamed his name.

Darkness followed, and I was surprised that it felt un-climactic.*



*(There was a brief limbo after the end of the world, with our computers marred in a weird off-line mode... I reread the old headlines that had predicted coming doom, "World Ending in Three Days," it was down by A+E.)

Things I Have Done Tonight

1) Somehow caused gray water to materialize all over my kitchen counter.
2) Yoga.
3) Sat in bed, dunking a protein bar in peanut butter while watching Sex and the City.
4) Comprised a mental history of pants-wetting.
5) Made a LOLcat.
6) Complained to myself about the slow speed on the DunkinDonuts website.
7) Pondered the sadness of one's "sexy Parisian" underwear becoming one's "I haven't done laundry in so long that I have to wear these" underwear.
8) Laundry.
9) Used a dirty towel to wipe off all the crap from my back that I got stuck on me from laying, sweaty, on my yoga mat.
10) Covered my bed in cardboard boxes.
11) Ate too many fiber tablets.
12) Almost washed a kitten.
13) Made an omelet.
14) Learned how to spell the word "omelet."
15) Realized that if you leave my room and come back, you can definitely tell that I cook omelets down here.
16) Got a bloody nose.
17) Got blood all over my keyboard.
18) Filed my nails so I'll stop biting them.
19) Bit my nails some more.
20) Wondered why I am not in better shape, despite food-related statements made above.

What I have not done tonight:

1) Anything productive.