the dead parts of me
June 6, 2014 § 1 Comment
onion grass my son pukes in the sink
the moon who cares where it is
your feet they’re nicer than mine
bottle caps rattle among the spoons
the crow says something for the crows
asphalt heat and foreign policy
the dead parts of me pester the rest
stale crackers easy to put them back
your twat I never call it that
the cat’s meow what’s that really about
the penny not as old as it looks
the extra napkin always gets tossed
rain check nothing to do with the rain
your fingerprint a consistent prostitute
the place on you I know you can’t touch
box tops they usually tear anyways
nails one of them in my foot
sassafras people still actually say that
your panties entwined with my odd socks
toothpaste not sure what I’m supposed to think
all the knives clean I hit the lights
HAIKU FOR MARTIN LUCAS
May 7, 2014 § Leave a comment
a new
anthology I learn
of his passing
his brother
concerned
for days
on the page
before me in
the old anthology
went for a walk
left his keys his phone
his pills
said yes
once to one of
my poems
“Is that from your
technique or the toughness
of your mouth?”
your death
attributed to
bird-watching
a collection
of flowers that’s
all it means
his last photo
he looks younger
than me
1962-2014
ant5 