An Unwritten Man

I know an unwritten man
Untold words, a thousand lines
Cascading authenticity
Discarding all but “mine”

Painted fabrications told in slanted light
To appearingly sing beautifully in minor key
Only touched elegance achieved in anonymity
Is to bequeath what’s known as “me”

Poet Voice

I have a problem trying to find my poet voice
Powerful, provocative, presenting
Is what it’s supposed to be
So why does it fluctuate?
Going up and down in tone
Never constant or strong
I want to put meaning into every word and not hold back
why can’t I find it?
I have my words
I am able to speak
So why can’t I hear the voice inside me out loud?
Speak speak
I want to speak up
Pronounce everything properly
I don’t want to fumble, stutter, or talk too fast
It has to be perfect
Rehearse, repeat, remember
Why can’t I remember my own poem?
It’s not enough to simply write or remember the poem
They are of my own mind
A piece of me
I am the poem, so messing up isn’t an option
Because…
What is a poet without their voice?
What is a poem without a flavorful twang of verbal expression?
A stagnant sea of lost letters perhaps, which I forbid my poems to become
So, these words are for nobody’s throat except mine
These are the lyrics of my desperate, wailing soul
I may be
Wavering, uncertain, anxious
While trying to portray eloquence
Head high, standing tall, eyes a universe away
I open the world that is my poet voice
Resounding such a willful and fierce prowess that when read only my voice is heard, my emotions, simply me as a whole should ring through the heads of those who relate or empathize with my poems
Yes, I am trying to find my poet voice

Small World, Huh?

Now, these thoughts are not so young.
The last time I saw you I had my mother’s teeth;
Six thousand dollars down my throat to solve it.
You sit kindly spaced from me, a considerate foot
Between us on the bench. I wonder if you know.

Of course, I saw you in the swoop of your nose.
You haven’t looked over yet. I examine my newspaper
As though it held my secrets. You reach down and tug
At one woolen sock. My coat slips from a shoulder and
I pull it back into place. You cough. The bus doesn’t come.

As I look at you as you are now, I wonder
If you remember what I remember. The rules are like this:
You stand here and I pass the ball. I heard since then
That all our friends are gone. Out of town or dead, each.
I heard since then you married a couple times.

You who bloomed are different and not. You can tell what caterpillar
Turns into a butterfly or moth. The same hair floats
On your neck as it did back when I was taller.
A bus arrives. It’s not mine. You rise slowly and ascend the steps.
I pray a goodbye to us both as it whisks you away.

Fire Man

The fire burns beside me. We chat
And speak of anything but rain.

He gets the place ready to ignite.
We make the bed and dust the picture frames
Sweep but do not mop. I take out the trash–
He tells me it’s the easiest job he’s seen in years.

He tells me it’s already flammable. He tells me
I’m already on fire, that I saw tears and knew to burn.
He praises me for being ready to blaze.

When we’re done, I pack up. It’s cleaner that way, he says,
Better you know what you are saving before it is burning.
We exit, hand in hand, and I ignore the feeling–
His fingers scorch, palms enkindle,
But I squeeze harder.

With one breath the house is gone.
Ash rests on the tip of my nose.

He nudges me.
It’s better off this way.

And we go ahead and climb the stairs,
Suitcase wheels clacking behind us.
When he releases my hand,
I feel the warmth still.

Across my palm, four seared marks.
I look away and clench it into a fist.
Even now he has not let me go.

For a Future Love

That I should be without it for a second is unthinkable–
this love which so weighs my shoulders and pulls me to you.
I dream of you in the lapses between bouts of obsession. (These
last throughout my waking hours; my only rest is sleep and even then
you manage to appear, undiluted and vital.)
My heart, my body, my soul, they follow you,
like chicks following a mother hen. You lead me places
I had not the pleasure of knowing before, vast oases filled only with
your image. Take me by the hand; only with such closeness
May my fevered lungs breathe. If not for the Earth’s refusal,
each night we would sink beneath its crust, drawn together.
I would apologize a thousand times over for laying a finger on you
if you hadn’t pardoned me with your own.
I love you. I hope, somewhere, you exist.

Car Crash in Cold Country

So we kiIl each other and call it glory.
The forest sweeps around the road to our street,
A commanding sort of silence
That lets you hear its presence. She takes me out.
Now the dogs are awake, the world is cold.
Our heroes are dead. I want to kiss her.

With someone like me, she says,
You have to tell me each day who we are,
And I’ll do my best to remember yesterday’s answer.
Nine teeth on the ground. I found out
That with your cheek to the pavement,
You can hear the hum of each train as it comes.

Her tires are smooth. Surely
When hell freezes over, we’ll skate right across.
How can I explain?
This winter, we’ll see God and pass him by.
Let me let you sleep.

Softly, Softly

Softly, softly

That night, I shed three tears
For the neighbor’s boy.
The nail polish chipped the next day,
Deep red flakes scattered across the bed.

He was made up of doors like bricks.
Each one shattered as he shattered.
We sat together on the porch, his chest
Heaving, back against the splinters.

A black eye as your father shook hands
With my face. I heard the contract in his fist;
Stay away at all costs, in exchange for life.
Get that gay sh-t out of my sight. All for a kiss.

There’s something about our place,
Sun-warmed and smelling
Of Orange-Glo cleaner. Your hands,
Down my throat, could touch my soul.

Someday, we’ll clean the dread from the rug,
The tears from the cracks in the floor.
Maybe we’ll get married. Maybe we’ll be happy.
They’re lies both of us told, but neither could forgive.

I thought about what you had said,
The words in the glint in your eyes.
Write me farewell in the cigarette smoke.
I’ll sing it back, softly, softly.

burning giraffe

Deep in the jungle
There was a big rumble
A mythic creature appears
Very hairy neck
Great lengthy legs
I can smell the smoke in the air
What could it be
Something from hell
A burning giraffe appears
I ring the bell in surender
Such a scary thing
Whipping his neck
Burning everything in sight
From across the ocean
A tsunami starts to form
Coming out of the water
Emerges a frost monkey
The air cools to frost
20 feet tall and frozen inside
As he marches across the water it turns to ice
The giraffe pretends to be brave
But we all know he’s not
You smell the beef in the air
The giraffe can win but at what price
As a war breaks out
The frost monkey gets burnt out
In the distance I see a great big wave
The afghan tiger arrives to make both of them his slave
He is way too mighty
And way too clean
It’s crazy to think that he’s still a teen
He is him
Severing these animal up I thought it was a cuisine
Little did I know afghan tiger worked for the man
The man’s so strong
He lives in the gym
He’s some gloomy
The rumor going around is he kills these beast for fun
He’s so evil
I hate him so much
He sends his men after me
l know I’ll die
So i’m going say bye bye