Viola, you poor,
indentured thing.
When they say
100% cranberry,
they **mean** it!
A chalk so bitter,
the pavement spit it back.
Or was that line drawn
in sand?
No sense,
no strings to attach.
Look,
and you'll nearly always
find
options for insanity.
Tag: romantic absurdism
-
Reiff
-
five whole minutes
My esophagus burns.
It was
five whole minutes ago
I was talking to you
then five whole years
as soon as we’re off the phone.
The most confused
color yellow -
languished -
clambering switchbacks,
for its place
on your dress… -
Plunge
A reworking
Her voice is the background music:
The pleasant sip of sunshine
you get from
a remainder,
dividing potential by
habit.
Crisp and loving, but better
left behind
after falling
from your chair laughing.
Jumping in beside her,
finding
a difference of
10 degrees.
There's plenty more cliffs,
I just really liked that one. -
Right Now Ago
A reworking
If it doesn’t rip me to shreds,
I don’t want it.
Jaw dropping love
all tired and sore,
chests heaving
with exasperated brilliance.
Where do I find the energy?
In snooze fests
around a warm,
gentle lake
algae in full bloom.
What fun is that? -
Preposterous Ponderings: Love Bites
You have the right to tell me how not to love you but…
you can’t tell me how to love you.
I corner the market on that shit.
-
Asking Why
Edging over
my collapsing mind,
I see the gears turn.
Scanning for candor
in a side-profile
on your way around.
My body grinds -
to a halt - gear against gear.
Like a hangnail
stuck between your teeth.
Absolution available by appointment only.
Eat your feelings
or they'll eat you.
As do the cherries
sinking down the leeward sun.
Leaving pits in my stomach
that I grow and foster
because I’m fucking better. -
Sick burn, dude!
Sick burn, dude!
What’s more,
the bear you know
or the man you don’t?
How many options
do you need?
With all my love,
the shoes fall less
when you don’t
toss them in the air.
You always
hit 10,000 steps.
It’s not sad!
That pain in my chest -
bronchospasms
and poor gas exchange.
Maybe I’m just
out of shape.
Say it! Do the thing.
Unless silence has worth.
Cheer up.
There's no shame
in playing the drum
hidden behind
the kitchen counter
until someone
plays along. -
Absolution
That cozy winter cabin,
a black body
radiating what's left
of a dense blaze.
Resigned to bitter self-indulgence
for the sole purpose
of propagating selfness -
unalone
as long as possible.
What a dweeb,
I'd say,
peering past the porch.
The cello and violins
stopped fighting
and released a single note
devoid of tonality,
echoing engagement.
Left with
a brick to talk to
in the receding symphony.
A hearth stone you gave me,
knowing you'd be gone soon.
Smoke bellowed.
Ash on my face,
I wrap myself in coniferous
fumes.
Hoping to rekindle -
gentler -
to feel goosebumps
lured into a brazen reach
for your vibrant light.
Oh word?
I didn't ask for gym motivation,
you fucker.
I didn't ask for batting practice.
It's a rest day anyway.
Wake to our nights
and spark into ecstasy.
Or one night:
I'd chop wood into
the cold, brisk dawn
for a final gasp,
for farts and giggles.
Fuck it, use me. If meaning
nothing
means anything.
Stand on the rungs
of my emotional scaffolding.
Reconcile your
devastatingly romantic
shituationship.
At least hang
this wrought iron up
when your done. -
Nutso
Music by Hozier – That You Are -
Franken Berries
From lackadaisical
slumber,
she wipes sleep
into attentive weariness.
Rods and cones hungry
for dual energies.
Sloughing dispassionate dreams
into an imposing quiet.
Chirping from the live wire.
A big bronze bull
stampeding air.
She pulls from
tight stiffness
with crackling dendrites.
I’ll take her to church.
Scribbles 'n Bits 