writing

New Poetry

I’ve got a poetry book that’s just about ready for release. It’ll be out before my second novel, sometime this Fall, probably. This next collection is called “In your Gourd, Off the Dime” and is inspired by the latest works of David Lynch, among other things. It’s meant to be a little more obtuse and experimental than my last collections. Here’s a handful of stuff from it. Enjoy!

escort

sometimes duty calls for you to escort
the bare elephant man through the streets
to tell him he looks like the rest of us
pat him on the back when he makes a wise purchase
despite the draw of rebellion
one must perform things considered to be duties
to hold together the rest of us
elephant men
to keep us thinking we’re healthy and alright
looking in the mirror to see gritty bone
protruding from your lopsided forehead
must not turn your gut
or alter your ability
we must take our turn
know how to recognize what must be done
for fate and fortuna constantly try to trick
all
the elephant folk

lamp

i climbed
out of my lamp
people were
nicer
than I expected
so was
the weather
it could
trick you
into thinking
it’s safe
that it’s safe
to kiss her
even though
there’s a
ruby red
cold sore
get back
in the lamp

smile

i see my hand pulling up scoops
of cold stream water
blessing my dry throat with them
they see my skinless hand
a skeleton rubbing tiny drips of
lava onto my melting, floppy lips
all i can do is smile now
show my charred gums

blindness

there’s not a thing
not a home for it
a light shines from it
making me comfortable
it dips and dims
when it’s a bit <dark>er
i see the nothing
surrounding me
a water i breath in
i can’t turn my head
or leave work early
you can’t go to church
or watch the game
whatever it is
it’s ending us
taking us to heaven
our commander leading the way
flag on spear
high above shoulder
etching into our eyes
the blaring light
it shines

frontier

it’s not the wild west
no one gets to go guns blazing
into the bar
you can hunt elk
skin a buck
but that doesn’t hide you
from our idols
reality tv
or smart phones
go into the bar
poke at the girls taking selfies
the boys drugging their cocktails
bouncers with shiny big buckles
all you are is left behind
there’s no catching up
if that’s what you want
fuckin lucky you

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