Blog Archives

come here, go away

8/1/2024

Two buttons
on a flat panel
One labeled come here,
One go away

You sat staring at them
for over an hour
unsure which to push

People behind you
in line
waited patiently
for you to decide;
not in a hurry to make
that decision
themselves

"Press the green one,
this is easy,"
your illiterate mother said
as you remotely connected
to her for advice;
She was cracking eggs
in your kitchen

She forgot you
were color-blind though;
which was strange
as she raised you
to be special

Unable to decide
you pressed both;
hoping for both outcomes
if you moved fast enough

Your mother shrugged
and licked her fingers;
The people behind you clapped.
Everything and nothing
was done at once

open water

8/1/2024

Open water,
too thirsty to swim
for help
lathered in sunscreen
in the middle of the night

A dark ship on the horizon
that never stopped
with binoculars broken
and an aimless captain

The dog knew
and jumped ship
treading water
to blend in
with the circling sharks

owls

8/1/2024

As your dad drove away
with you in the backseat
You waved to me
and turned your head
like an owl
facing ahead
but looking back

A reverse greeting far removed
from the childhood
wonder
we were meant to feel

I never saw you again
after that
except in photos on
old microfiche

To remember you
I would have to drag
myself to the library
and wait my turn

Trying to recall how
or why we met
or how long I sat at your desk
after lunch
shaping my sadness
like a block of slimy clay
before everyone else arrived
to learn long division

plexiglas

8/1/2024

My punch card didn't work
this time;
it was too bent
or too old
or just me

I tried over
and over
until the ghost
in the plexiglas
didn't look the same
as when I started

my coworkers walking by
didn't seem to recognize me
anymore;
nor did I even know myself
as I threw a chair
at the machine
denying my entry

Our job was to warp plastic
into super kawaii shapes
they sold better that way;
and now, me too,
trying to fit a square peg
into a round hole
to be something I could
identify
without over melting
to no real form

fall back

8/1/2024

It's 2am.
The clocks get set back
soon
with another hour I'll have
to relive

It's 9pm.
I'm in front of a computer screen
rewriting a verse
I've been working on
for years

It's 7pm.
I'm trudging to the train station
unhaunted

It's 3pm.
I'm in Heidelberg
on a bench
waiting for a ghost
to inhabit me;
I wait 4 hours
then leave

It's 1pm.
Further south
overlooking a lake
hoping not to drown
holding my breathe
for longer than
I thought I could;
I take note of my endurance
for pain

It's 11am.
I'm in an airplane
writing you a letter you'll save
and burn in front of me later

It's 9am.
We watch a movie
about the future
and space travel

It's 7am.
I met you
and a lightning bolt
hit me;
you gave me
your watch
to remember something
I want to forget

the secret to your success

8/1/2024

People wished you well
And said hello
Not knowing what you
Had locked
In your basement

The plumber found out
But you paid him off
With caviar

The electrician
Met a dire end;
An occupational hazard,
really

Your mother turned
a blind eye;
it was easier that way
to avoid the
"unpleasantness"

the puddle of mud and sewage
illuminated by a bright red light,
disguised as a side show
that wrote itself

Another day that
All your old college buddies
Were fooled
by the passage of time
And lack of
Witnesses

retro

8/1/2024

Culture with no moment
repeating
every 20 years
to reintroduce itself
as new
to people trying
to be different

Mannequins trying to distract
themselves
from a future that
has nothing new

In one store,
banana clips and
chia pets,
thin ties
and
high top chucks

In another,
broken hula hoops
and melted popsicles;
scratched records
and bald dolls

Both filled with window shoppers
haunted by a lost future
that will never arrive;
in forced nostalgia
for a time
to remember
when you didn't think
you'd die

elevators

8/1/2024

No matter how high I went
the elevator always went down

I even waited in the basement once
and that one went down too

I kept hitting the button
because that’s what I was told to do

the stairs were full of cobwebs
and urine
and that seemed a harder task
than pushing a button

but now I’m convinced
that button likely
did nothing
to notify anyone
of anything,
anywhere

There was hope sometimes
the first year I was there
in the hallway
with Muzak

The instrumental version
of Single Ladies wasn’t
as soothing as you thought
when it was heard
on repeat

but each door that slid open
revealed a packed room
with no space for me

The second year
was worse because
there was space
but
the door closed
before I could set foot inside

By the tenth year
no more elevators really came
except one filled
with supplies
for people on a higher floor

Rappelling gear was expensive
but every so often
someone descended
off the side of the building,
waving me down to the lobby;
warning
that destruction comes
to people on
higher floors
with no way down

camera obscura

8/1/2024

In the dark attic
the neighbor's house
projected itself
on my wall

I watched as
Frank climbed
the ladder and began
taking off every shingle

Inside this box
I could see every movement
that he thought was hidden,
illuminated by the shadows

His secret drinking,
his affair with the town hypnotist,
his obsession
with painting his self portrait
again and again

It was all so clear,
but upside down;
My neck cracked
trying to make sense of
what I saw
while everything was
so far away
so close

through a small hole
in a dark room

icy road

8/1/2024

Keep your eyes
on the icy road
if you slip too far
you won't return

The ice won't
melt
here
this far north
and
you have no way
to go south
this time of year
without driving over
roads
that may crack

Remember, you can only
lose control
once
before
the crash
defines your
whole life

torpor

8/1/2024

I was told
the torpor
wouldn't last long
A century or two or one hundred
which isn't really that long
at all
unless you have to be somewhere
tomorrow

The slowness wasn't the problem
inasmuch as how
it was perceived
by everyone
waiting their turn
behind me

Or the people with clipboards
and handmade badges
who brought
trains full of children
to note my extinction

They proactively measured
their bones
for their cabinets
and lighting;
waiting for the day
they'd be observed too
in a museum
or in the garbage pile
in the dank basement

time capsule

8/1/2024

When I buried
the time capsule
I imagined cool
futuristic aliens
or my great-great grandchildren
finding
my box
of pogs
and Michael Jackson posters

But it was
an older version of me
not them
searching for my old watch
and my diary
from 1989

With poems
written about time capsules
in another iteration
of the same day

But the ground was
harder now
in the winter
than it was
when I buried it
the first time
and I couldn't shove it
back
underground

Old photos
and memento mori
slipping through my hands
like the neon green slime
and toxic felt markers that
I wanted
to remember

offerings at a superstitious junction

8/1/2024

At the fountain
you suggested I throw
a coin
into the foam

I only had buttons
to discard though
and subway tokens
and tambourine
cymbals

With a hearty hoist
I threw up
in the air
and my flat metal disc
landed
outside
the water
with a small splash

Everyone clapped
as they averted
their eyes
while an old man
picked up the discard
and walked away

bailing

8/1/2024

I knew I had to get in the raft
eventually
to try
to endure the changing landscape
and the river
I couldn't step in twice

With a false sense of hope,
I took the position
in the back
so I could be the one
who was steering

The morning version of myself
Tried to be practical
assessing my bathing suit
and hat
and sunglasses
With just enough mascara
to think it mattered;
the afternoon version of myself
was tired and dead
with enough makeup to not
look like myself

I thought I’d be safe in a group
of 6
but even that left me feeling odd
With people less interested
in keeping us afloat
than in throwing buckets of water,
bailing

Perhaps the occasional
drowned body
didn't bother them enough
to stop their fun

A well-place rock hit me
in the head
and landed at my feet

I imagine it would have been clearer
if I viewed its engraved message
from underwater
Where it was written

So I fell off
the back of the raft
and tried to see through
the mud;
my bucket floating past me,
with mermaids filling it
with more stones
for another day

some

8/1/2024

Some are
ice cubes
and buoy
to the top
even after they're numb -
melting into you
until you are one
and the same

Some are pellets
that expand
and grow
and push you out -
they choke your dog
when you aren't looking

Some are rocks
that sink
to the bottom
and never return -
buried in the crevice
too heavy to be retrieved
without a search party,
waiting for you to evaporate
once more
before the sheriff arrives

marionettes

8/1/2024

You lit
a fire under me
and were surprised
it burned
through the ropes
keeping me in place

One by one
I gained back agency
of each limb
but the line to my head
was the thickest
and needed extra time
to sever

post-op

8/1/2024

There'd be no
"after" photos
for you to post online
as a living billboard
touting your good judgment

Your camera was broken
in Michigan
or something like that

Perhaps
you just didn't want to
document
the damage you did
when I wasn't paying
close enough attention;
if you ignored it
long enough
it'd go away

And if not,
you'd move your practice again
and change your name

The wound would either heal
or not;
you didn't like
dealing with
dead people
asking to be revived
or holes that didn't stop
bleeding

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