poetry rumbles under the skin
blue hand veins looking like rapids
it growls and demands explosion
ripping
dripping
without form
more a feeling
the best bandaid is a wing dike
to channel the river of fragments
into a slowly moving bank of words
but theoretical studies show this might result in flooding
poet
Poem #750 – the magic of a convenience store after dark
food
lit by glowing fluorescence
a beacon among this gray outside
indifference
but stepping into this liminal space
the hope of junk is immense
buy
it’s like I’ve never seen beef jerky
or stuffed a cosmic brownie in my mouth
possibility
adult money in my pocket just burning to be spent
on a bag of Doritos that I shouldn’t get
greed
promises of a satisfyingly full stomach
and a gaudily glowing iPhone charging cable
overkill
deep under the spell until I get my change
what the hell did I just buy?
Poem #749 – purity
emptiness
the milk of my soul
meandering in smooth tornadoes
a chaotic and white peace
even that swirls down the drain
I am existing on nothing
a mounting joy
with every item’s absence
I am nothing.
but it feels good
“ladies and gentlemen,
please welcome
______________”
Poem #748
the defective chameleon falls from his perch
everyday
without fail
he fails
yet he climbs all the way up
feet above the ground
camouflaged in the leaves
every inch he pulls himself up
each of those
is success
46 successes,
1 failure.
why did I mention that first?
Poem #747 – the in-between
spring is coming
and I want to be better
better than me
better than you
better than everyone
better than the best
I want to bake moist cupcakes
I want to squeeze into size 2 jeans
I want to have the internet like me
I want to write Great novels
I want it all
but there’s something curious
I have most of the skill
but
but I’m just not quite there
this one switch isn’t flipped
somewhere deep in the interface
one transistor was always defective
so I stand here
looking at spring
but not quite there
Poem #746 – marriage counseling
it smells of rotting things
fruit, once sweet
now propagating flies
get on the ground
crawl there
you must bark
you are not a woman
he doesn’t need to do this
he’s not embarrassed
the therapist and him watch
dignity vampires
let the maggots eat only the dead flesh
until just you exist
Poem #745
joking
I fall off the cliff
Poem #744
giant machines walked above us
but they weren’t our lords
we controlled them with tiny devices
determined to reach the stars
we thought we were big
until they fell on us
Poem #743 – a manageable river
they put her there,
built her concrete body
rolled asphalt into her crown
to hold back the water.
the water crawled with those slithering things:
manic mosquitos breeding disease in the still
depressed rocks displacing water at the bottom
rain for weeks
she digs her concrete fingers into the mountains
on either side
even those slime-covered rocks at the bottom
add weight
her body cracks imperceptibly
water seeps into those hair-thin lines
when the snow comes
ice expands her cracks
they put fish into the deep lake
that she holds back
the fish keep the mosquitos down
no more disease.
years of snow
more rocks have eroded from the nearby mountains
pushing against her crack-riddled concrete body
rain for weeks
the water breaks through her
first: in a spurt
next: an explosion
nothing in the years-dry riverbed survives
Poem #742
the fat man has an eating disorder
late at night when no one else is awake
he takes a box of ice cream cones
a Dreyer’s slow-churned vanilla quart
he eats: 1, 2, 3
he pauses for a minute, he should stop
but the ice cream is going to melt
and he can’t keep his hands from moving
he eats: 4, 5, 6
sick and too full, he passes out
the next day: less than 1,000 calories
two weeks: less than 1,000 calories
he says,
“I can’t give myself an inch”
he’ll take a mile
8 lbs lost
he’s smiling and feeling proud
15 lbs lost
he’s finally in control
then, his legs move on their own
late at night for a week straight
the light of the refrigerator is ghostly on his skin
he pulls out an entire box of ice cream sandwiches
and takes them to his room
an entire pot of leftover spaghetti
a loaf of bread and package of Oscar Mayer bologna
he regrets immediately and passes out
-2 lbs lost