Another gray sky day, empty gas tank worries in the countryside
nowhere don’t you long for my touch? Oz runs just far enough
for the bone against the backdrop of my outstretched arm
hand out fingers extended & I don’t know where I stand with Jessie
except she must find me pathetic as she walks into water under the
influence of Dr. Dog & now she swim-dances the past three days she’s
walked along the rock edge of the pool. & now I need to text Tony Z.
what’s a man most afraid of? I’m getting used to inadequacy. Oz brings
his bone to the other side of the fence. Jessie says she misses the green,
the pool purified at the beginning. Sara throws pong ball through
the hole of a lime lifesaver floatie and a butterfly metaphor soars
above the water. Have you ever almost drowned on drugs? I don’t
recommend it. The lesson is gravity’s not the occasionally falling apple
but the drifting leaf toward the other side, whatever the definition. September
third and we just got our first sunburns. Hannah leaves the house after
work and like a magic trick, three pong balls appear in the water
and the sun reveals itself a moment. Oz lays in the grass in front
of me before a philosophical discussion about casserole and how to cope
with beans bought at the beginning of pandemic we will never eat.
(originally published in KNOT Magazine, Fall 2021)
drugs
DMT & LSD
when I see you next I want to ask you about the drugs
if you still do them because I still regret turning down
DMT you offered at 4 AM when I was on the ground
floor of your apartment sitting on black catfur carpet
though it sounds like quite the quick trip eight minutes
of being in an alternate universe how so many stories
about the drug involve tiny green creatures milling
about & that alone drives the conspiracy theorist out
although for a time I partook often in LSD & once
when in the shower high I could feel the alternate
lifeform in my spine black-and-white pulses being
cleansed inside me & then I wrote a wobbly novella
& there’s a doctor I know who microdoses on the
daily & I’ve made a new friend who says she wants
to trip with me & I cannot wait to have another such
experience even eight years older than the last trip
last time I saw you a couple years ago you had just
graduated from art school making mad money at a
crazybusy restaurant in the bustling brewery district
of my city but I was making amends with a friend
thus I didn’t ask about psychedelics though the thought
crossed my mind after & then I wonder does the boarding
pass for mindtrips expire what if I ask & you answer
the captain is dead the plane no longer leaves the ground
(originally published in The Broken City, Winter 2019)
Slices
a legacy
of sharp edges:
run your fingers
along the desk
until it bleeds.
your tattoo:
love is all
you need.
I whistle the
theme to Requiem
for a Dream
and pop pills
until my hands
smell of
peanut
butter and rum
splashes
into my
hungry eyes
feed me something
new
(originally published in The Oddville Press, Spring 2019)
Blank Space
Addiction
I crave the steady and the swing.
I crave the crystalline trampolines
that hurtle me seven hundred feet
into glimmering onto an Eiffel Tower
stage before the work of Einstein
activates and demands ricochet.
(originally published in 1001 Journal, Spring 2017)
