Friday, July 27, 2018

Odysseus and his suitcase



  Will you dream it into being
 this object that you
          desire so
whose name you do not know?


When he closed his eyes, he
could see anything, chain
link fences, whitewashed stone walls
 picket fences, and clotheslines
 full of clouds and rainbows

There was a red plastic bucket
with a green tin shovel for

 the sand
which had stopped being fun and started b
 to reproach him as he walked past it, not looking
 at the ugly
ocean or the beach that
wanted to poke his eyes


  he no longer felt like
the seagulls were his friends
at first they were
   indifferent to his plight,
now they
 dive bombed his shadow
         and hated on him
like rusty nails
      though he could not
ever
  talk to animals he
felt sure he could
    recognize the most
 wretched bird curses
          and promises
 to
 murder.


 Here he was at the end
   of the world
the perfect blonde children
       gone home for
                classes
their older selves
       of child rearing age
  gone too
        having   precisely arranged
the recycling,
         beer bottles on one side
     wine, more graceful and better-dressed
            on the other,
like a middle school dance
          with vodka bottles in
               between (spinster chaperones ?)

  He wants to
             drag his cow
of a suitcase by
      a rope, over
            the sand , road, sidewalk
to his cool, dark home
       while mom and
 the man she married take too
        long to pack the car.

Monday, June 25, 2018

Youth



There you are sitting with your dope throne
and telling me I don't know shit about your life
with your lights off and the bubbling  of your idle bones
 " I'm walking a different path to a real positive light"
you tell me and you tell me and you tell me while
   you are planted on your ass


        your friends are so cool, so cool, not like me
they understand the real you, the how you feel, you
  tell me like I'm too fucking dim to really see
that they all the time gotta be loaded to just to be with you
  you tell me and you tell me while
        you ask me to leave


the world doesn't truly fuck you until you stop trying
    like I owe you some kind of prize for being who you are
you look at your profile and you start crying
    because you're just a fucking grain of sand, and not a shiny star
          you tell me and you tell me while you
            hold yourself hostage to the splinters


some day you will have to use a pint glass or a tire iron
        or a novelty Disney pencil
to get
     your point across,
or jump out of a window, or a moving mattress
       to escape what you deserve

or let cops pull on your nipples
      when you're in handcuffs
 and not say a fucking word

you'll go to work where the boss
 tells you to
      get on the truck and
         shut the fuck up
your hands will bleed

she'll laugh at your dick
you'll get ripped off
  she'll try to cut you if you try
 to put your dick in
      someone else

In short
   you will have to grow
        up
and no one will love you
     until you do.


Sunday, June 17, 2018

urok voiny- a lesson of war



Вот Taнк

Тam  Танк

Море -Окно

Без Прычын ,

Зеркели сломало

Держиваю зубы

в  карманах

по земле мои мечты

Тащивао

представляю глазы твои

съеденные мухами

за нас обоих

буду плакать

чуть- чуть поздновато


---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Here, is a tank

There is a tank

the ocean is a window

without any reason

It broke a mirror

I carry my teeth

in my pockets,

 over the earth my dreams,

I drag,

I imagine your eyes,

sat upon by flies

for the both of us

I shall weep

Just a bit too late.


   

Saturday, June 9, 2018

That one time



in the cage of shadows
by the birches cast
  your red raincoat 
         wetly shines
Papers and clouds of dreams are stuck to the 
benches and the iron railings
 awasy in the fading sky, 
  I look at you
the way a child 
  sees the circus
for the first time
  

the window where we meet
         tries to steal the candy colors
of your coat 
  but it can/t
      
   You're nothing special, though
       a normal heart
filled with the ocean and
       a million golden clocks,
            amethysts and
        a harvest moon.

Just an ordinary Goddess,
    swirling, among the world
             with unmuted plumage
           when you kiss my cheek and leave
                it burns and lingers like
                      a hot shell casing
                among the smoke and noise
                        inside of me.

Friday, March 16, 2018

He died one day
     For three minutes
Not days
   A machine was
Prepared,
  But not ready
        For a while it
Was winter light
     Through an oceanic window
The loud congress of
   Birds’ Shadows and
Velvet black indigo
       The surprising cast
Of their kind, amber eyes
     
    Welcome back
Sputtering and
  Cut
Where everything hurts
  And nothing
Makes sense
  He cries
Like a child
     Missing
Christmas

Wednesday, September 13, 2017

response to a poem about war



  The writer wrote and got it
    written larger.
It was pretty good, you know,
      talking about shrapnel and using
words no one really uses
        in those situations.
It was sad and made me
        think about life
It was beautiful and made me
          see farther

I think he got it wrong though,
         like the part when,
and i heard it before like the whole
      "seeing your friends perish"
no, not it.
       not it
              you don't think like that,
because you look at someone else and say
    "wow, he got fucked up" and then
" I'm really glad it wasn't me"
       It's going to be me and no one is really
 going to give a shit.
     Sure, the feeling passes and you might
           have some tears and pour liquor on the ground
                    but the feeling comes back
that you aren't a good person
          and never will be
                and you get to keep that
              and you get to hold that gift next
                     to your face in the mirror
                or when you walk by a window with your
                                kids

Monday, July 31, 2017

one time pad

 plowshare inkwell
pommel anvil
skillet hammer
heartbeat bellows
reveal assume
golos" petard
angriff poltroon
sailcloth physic
spoken hidden
written stumbled
teardrop sapphire
freckles fingers
sunset perfume
lighter candle
kisses highway
goodnight goodbye