We Will Pour and Pour

In our Euripidean illness
we thought the apocalypse belonged
to no one when, in fact, the tragedy was
collective.

A tethered shoestring at the feet of all the boys
here– a long intestine packed.
                               And we were a puddle drinking
rain past the lips of cement until we sank into sleep

and how what we hid in our hearts was money,
blood pulsing green through shadowy veins
the cardiovascular surgeon broke his fingers trying to fix.

 

(originally published in Cabildo Quarterly, Winter 2018)

Two Guys, Two Gallons of Yuengling, Two Plastic Jugs

Tongues composed of lager and slathered words drip
turbulence from the roadmaps of mouths, the ocean’s
rock and regurgitation. We meandered along brick-paved
roads with half-amber jugs in our hands, how quickly
we drown but how slowly we swayed on swings
in the frigid, desolate playground at night by the highway,
eyes entranced by the spotlight from the city’s hidden heart
we desire but never find but in the beer’s flat hops like a pair
of clumsy trombonists, asynchronous staccatos and B-flat
scales bottling air from silver mouthpiece to S.O.S–

 

(originally published in Cacti Fur, Summer 2016)