my own capitalistic heart?
Capitalistic Christmas for myself.
Cannibalistic love
of self. Entertainment in the draw-
strings of all the passing
days. Shortages
everywhere and yet–
And yet I have
to play the game
to survive in this capitalist
world. Take my days
away.
(originally published in Stickman Review, Fall 2023)
entertainment
Sock Puppets
Black wig and grimebrown,
reach your hand to my hand.
Mimic a person (sooner and
sooner no one remembers) in
pretend interaction (if I could
color wry smiles I would
cover the world). Your old
dweller hobbles to mine,
withered from the silence.
We guess at the true age
of this era (graininess
invisible and anxious).
This is no old film.
Stuffed in sneakers, we act
through dilapidated cotton
(too far away, too tight a fit).
Let us breathe.
(originally published in The Globe Review, Summer 2023)
Tetris
I am reading old journals, putting
pieces of my past in place–
a series of staircase Tetris shapes,
a broken board mixing L.A. palm
fronds with bad haircuts Dad
gave me, but we needed to save
money, and I was bratty. I wanted
video game anime hair but got slanted
bangs laughed at by classmates and
teachers (who would never admit they
found it funny). I knew, and still do.
Sharp laughter edged in memory. I
want to say I’ve gotten over it. Over
all of it. But I still hold the smoky
gray of Nintendo controller in both
hands, and I am trying to move the pieces
where they need to go– but I am
older and life is faster, blocks falling
into places I can no longer find them,
stacking dark spaces to the top of my
screen after these earlier, easier years.
(originally published in Bond Street Review, Winter 2021)
Screens
(originally published in BlazeVOX Journal, Spring 2023)
Fidget Spinner
Place the ring around your finger.
Let it spin. Pretend, for once,
that something can attain
perpetual motion. You drive back-
country roads to leave a life behind
yet miss the destined exit. Consider
the spin of the Earth, the galaxy,
the universe. At what point does
longing end? There are always
voids to fill, vast pits of fruit
you would savor if you could
stay still enough to love
a person.
(originally published in Cabildo Quarterly, Fall 2017)
They’re Called Background Actors Not Extras
Mia Khalifa
Life imitates art in the way
memory imitates life– your face
reminds me of my last swollen
laughter held. Sometimes
there is no comparison– oh, we’ll rise
from geysers with sulphur still
in our fabrics– loose, blue threads
hanging at the maw.
We disassociate and wish
to converge into stars on a single strand
of light–
I remember that copper smell
of a new roll of pennies,
when fifty cents meant more than
being half of something
not quantifiable at all.
(originally published in Pouch, Issue #6)
Hollywood Hills
pluck stars from the heavens
twist a new celestial face
gods like the river no longer revered
oxygen the miracle
light the suffocation
rebirth me in ash
my fame was crucified
gnarled teeth stained
the slain valor of vodka
etch my name on sacred mountain
worship the white gradual chipping of paint
(originally published in November Bees, Summer 2016)
Music Enough to Make One Mad
i walk in a line and shoot and shoot i walk in a line and shoot and shoot i walk in a line and shoot and shoot i walk in a line and shoot and shoot i walk in a line and shoot and shoot i walk in a line and shoot and jump and shoot and jump and walk in a line to music decadent in my brain on a loop a loop and through the gates it follows wherever i go wherever i slide i slide i slide inside and walk in a line and jump and shoot and walk in a line and jump and slide and the music is always the always the major key hooks and bridges no matter my life the music the same and i am so close and i am so close and i walk in a line and jump and
miss
(originally published in an alternate form in Dangerous to Go Alone! – a video game poem anthology)