It had him acting so mad that he was
Too Afraid to Swallow;

His knee pain, literally means, see:
A Single Leg to Stand On;

Swimming so erratically,
He’s Struggling In Classes That Are Nothing To Know

Symptoms last time,
Branded In the Rib Like a Sacrificial Heydey Savior

Her freedom sexually seems like

“The Demons You Helped Seed Have Newfound Meaning for Me”

You know, Like parents spending lives
In Affair after Affair after Affair

Like a Man who Can imagine
What Its Like To Be Cuckholded

Like a Man Who Can Imagine
She Wants More Of It Than Just Him

Like a man, who’s small AND little
defeated from that day on.

So, it’s not that he doesn’t want that for her
It’s a Just a Big Bunch of Pride To Swallow
And Fear and Shame and Sadness in which to Wallow.

Unless, you two kids are truly in love,
And then, in that case,
Act like Abraham and Prepare For The Next Morning.

What:
I cannot do
Is:
What I won’t
Wrong:
It may be
With:
Pure apathy
Me.

Who is “I”
The “me” that I know
Lives outside
Myself,
Just to the left
Of center.
Encased
Defined
Concerned
Encircled
Empty.

In the sun of the desert sky
In the dirt that blows in my eye
I searched my life for you

In the palms of my father’s hands
In the borders that police no man’s land
I searched the lines for you

In the mean and cold places, wrinkled faces, brutal races
at the bases of mesas and in cases where embraces replace spaces
I searched what’s right for you

In the ash where embers once glowed
In the paths that my sisters sowed
In the breeze of my mind’s delight
In the warmth of my lovers light
In the bones of the beasts I eat
flesh of this craft, into submission beat
I worked this night for you

No-one mentions Athel trees
Or the hamburger sand there
Blown in sheets
Jerusalem ought to choke rock sales
Voodoo (and concerned with black males)

Save the bullheads from the plot
Pocketed bullets from the sailor’s lot
Some burned pigs, wandering, lost there
Tooth marked (and concerned with welfare)

Mark the boundary with weeds
Buried treasure, in walls, unseen
But with destruction, uncovered
Voodoo (our time there discovered)

No-one mentions Athel trees
And the fact that they don’t have
any leaves
Why do I want to go back there?
Voodoo (and concerned with what’s bare)

Pare thin sentence from wry thought
Filter sand from these dry locks
Nestled tightly in his breath
Lies (the truth, adjacent depth)

Extracted vassal of the Rock
Shorn in lands without a flock
Consumed and sculpted by child’s care
Voodoo (and concerned with black hair)

For Melissa

Still, like the drifting desert sand Mojave knew.
Dull, as the rusting cars there stand, Mojave blued.
Eyes, wide open, tears run.
Wild!
Try. Try. Try. She’s never coming home.

What was I thinking when you were sinking?
(Where was my head? Where were my hands? Where was my heart?)
Traded them in on pieces of tin.
(What did you do? What did you do? What did you do?)

Hold me, heaving, scold me.
Tired, torn, buck-toothed and dead
Break me (I’m tired) take me
This, the end.

Disown me — hostile zone me.
Railroad tie me to my bed.
Break me, desert, shape me.
Break me, desert rape me.
Break me, desertscape.
Mojave knew me then.

Slight, like the scent of Grandville’s ground; Mojave Jew.
Gaunt as the lizard skins we found; Mojave bruised.
Guise an omen: near spanned miles!
Try Try Try. She never got control.

What was I thinking when you were sinking?
(Where was my head? Where were my hands? Where was my heart?)
Traded them in on pieces of tin.
(And what did you do? What did you do? What did you do?)

Hold me, heaving, mold me.
Tired, torn, buck-toothed and dead
Break me (I’m so tired) take me
This, the end.

Disown me — hostile zone me.
Railroad tie me to my bed.
Break me, desert, take me.
Break me, desertscape me.
Break me, desert-raped.
Mojave new me then.

You’ve spent the last seven years
Trying to be the part
Not the person

Why?

You love to like
The need to leave but
Cannot face the need to be

Free.

So hope becomes the frailest fortress
Around the slightest of these vain things
That, elitist brother
feeds your pleasure

Breathe.

For Rush

Draggin’ my ass from Kansas City
Looking for a quick score, a ride and some pity
No luck with the pity hunt, just a ride from this stuck up cunt
And of all places, she kicked me out here.

So I wander the alleys of this piss of a town
Except for one, lights off at midnight all around
Just need a car or truck or some kind dumb luck
Got to get away from Kansas City.

Late night summer knock
Occupant opens the door
Claw hammered forehead
Retarded on the floor.

Arc of blood spatter
Grey of brain matter
Swoop and then thud
Handle drips blood

Father asleep in the back
Didn’t hear the first hammer attack
Lay there dreaming of God knows what
Lobotomized that sleeping fuck

Arc of blood spatter
Grey of brain matter
Swoop and then thud
Handle drips blood

Arc of blood spatter
Grey of brain matter
Yah yah yah. It’s the Stanley cup of home improvement.

I don’t know how a cherry tree relates to me
Especially now that I don’t have one in my yard anymore.
The only one I ever planted was small and thin and desperate to grow.
I haven’t seen it since I sold out for a taste of something “better”.

Most of the trees I’ve planted since then were mature —
Strong, healthy specimens that cost a pretty penny.
They all started to die after the first winter.
I cut them down into two foot long pieces for the trash man.

I don’t know if the Cherry Tree I planted
Provides fruit to its admirers or shades their surroundings.
But I know it reminds me of my first child crawling in the grass
Towards me as I planted it in the lawn so many years ago.