Last year was last yearpast midnight in thiscity second-floor apartment.Throwing darts against concentrationand dodging the champagnepassed around hand-to-handlike a collection plate exceptthis vessel gives, it gives, it gives.By now we’re used to the smokethough tomorrow we’ll be disgustedby the smell in our clothes, reeking like wewere out at SOME BAR last night. I seeyou grab … Continue reading Dartsanatomy
Category: Poems
Nassau at New Year’s
palm trees wave
like they’ve been
saving me a sea
long-lost waves wash
searchfully ashore
as I sit and have
two kaliks
and a cuban-made cigar.
Camo
A chameleon can
whisper in any language.
It can tongue
the chocolate bannister of lust
and not get stuck.
If the bannister melts,
the chameleon will drink it—
it does not need a handrail,
it does not need stairs.
It scales the several stories
of a cocoa affair
with its eyes rolling,
with its coiled tail erect.
Sleep Constitutional
0As I try to feel tired,the bed speaks, wood on wood.Add that to the listof things to do on Monday.At least my pants still fit (barely).Some of those fat fattieshave really given up on life.Them and the suicides. 1Makeup and dancing.And audience participation.What’s that?! says the guy on stage.(He puts his hand to his ear.)I … Continue reading Sleep Constitutional
Mother Mary
She doesn’t bring thingsthat couldn’t accrue to other crises,such as hands holding bouquetsor a shepherd’s staff made only of E’s. The sound of my temple beatingagainst the pillow I once thoughtwas m’eyelash, though I couldn’t prove it. Even when I went stiffI could not escape the soundof my pulse licking the hay. And yet it … Continue reading Mother Mary
Jump
Someone had to help her
start her car.
Someone showed up
with jumper cables
but no car.
And no insurance.
Cell phones
didn’t work out there.
Out where?
Oh, out where
the tracks still run,
where I’ll bet cowboys
in dusty leather
ride mean-hungry horses
waitin' for the next call,
the next big thing.
They aren’t internet cowboys.
They don’t believe in
price tags, or
interest rates.
Not even belt buckles
or smiled ruined
by chew.
At the end of the day,
it’s all about stew
and cornbread:
a sauce for everything
poured on wounds
makes them whole.
Let’s see, is it
red on black
or black on black,
and why won’t this thing go?
Lump of Wood
I
Lump of wood.
I split it,
I’m takin it.
II
Got it off a
red-cheeked maple
in Santa Claus, IN.
III
Lived to be cut down
thanks to the
Paperwork Reduction Act
of 1995.
VI
I was of three minds,
like a lump of wood
in which there are three logs.
V
In a storm
there is only gas
(breath of earth)
and wood
(mother’s heart).
VI
When a leaf burns
it becomes a star.
When it changes color,
a crimson decision.
Fall the time of its choosing.
VII
How many lumps of wood?
How many fires?
VIII
The smoke only
stings my eyes
when I leave
the fire's side.
IX
The coals a meditation
crumbling to heat
the future.
X
Its denouement ashes,
when spread over beds,
a singular taste
in next year’s tomatoes.
XI
In the end there is only
whiskey and wood,
a balm against
splenetic mood.
And windows frosting over
in the mind,
and memories of bark
shedding like a rind.
Back In The Army
by R.L. Wisdom So much dependson an empty bottle of wine.I ask the girl I love,What is music?She says, It’s the soundof 'getting people taken care of.'We went out on a datebut I forgot the details.We were going to have sexbut then we didn’t.It was the future. We flewin fast, tube-like cars.I dropped her off.When … Continue reading Back In The Army
Pub
We are not unlike the Irishmen.We also wear long, woolly scarves.We also have girlfriends who mock our scarves and protest in colors when we say they are drunk.
Enough With the Miracles
I don’t seek themthey just fall outlike when that girlran through hereand her right breastpopped out of her shirtlike manna from heavenfor this grade-school boywho stayed up all nightbelieving in Christuntil the left oneappeared above his bedlike a rosy pupilogling him in the darknessmaking him swear notto waste his time prayingfor miracles anymore.
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