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.
Frozen Gingko
Ice Magazine
The branches get heavy.The wires get heavy.They lavish themselveswith loosely hung belts of translucent sequinsand draping necklacesof drooping pearlsas they strut down winter's slick runway,bringing to groundthe century-old fadsof heated homesand cable tv.
Iben Browning’s Blues
The sound an airplane makes
is what it means to cut the sky with a knife.
Contrails are not clouds but sutures—
scars left behind, eventually fading,
no soil in blue.
Sadly, I have no more visions.
I foresaw neither Connecticut
falling into the ocean nor
the tremulous sinkhole it bred
in my second-floor apartment.
Pelted again with
the stones of incorrectness,
I’ve had to evacuate the state.
Keep the borscht cool.
See you in November.
To narrow wins,
to fat ones,
to pretenders.
To the factory shut down
then sent away. We
welcome you back
under different rules.
Everyone got drunk
when Congress worked together.
This time it’s different,
turn the page.
JBR.com 