july 4th horses
means I’m drunk
again riding
the whirlwind
of my American
personality
I wave the
flag of surrender
every day
but here I
see stars
in the blur
of the city
parade
(originally published in Hamline Lit Link, Summer 2020)
oh
Cursed, Not Cursed
Whichever– we were followed
by a love, chanting mantras
in the dark beneath each doll,
each horsehead. And to say there
was a countdown– I masked my own
face. Then fate bugsprayed the spirits
that wanted to haunt our hearts
in this crickety home forever.
(originally published in In Parentheses, Spring 2020)
ferns in memoriam
ferns in memoriam
in the room of you
the four walls the plaster so what
we would have had a life
together not just be alive
together
so what
I’ve learned to lose the leaves
the old days
reminisce in new nostalgia
created from a new & better era
my body alcohol’s punching bag
but the nights! no straight-edge
James nerdy
yes but one that
lets me lets me lets me
grieve in the light
(originally published in In Parentheses, Spring 2020)
You Leave to Make Art in the South
humid
green
swamps
a riverflow
of talent
the sediment
of the world
gone well
past
my flaws
I wish
still for contact
this accident of
longing a lesson
in how not to be alone
through the lens
of canvas
(originally published in Erothanatos, Spring 2020)
End of June [Transition]
last night I slept in your bed
white sheets disheveled
I plucked an orange scrunchie
off your pillow and placed it
on the dresser
drawers half-open
like an uneven staircase
dresses streaming out
onto the floor
like contrails
frozen
mid-destination
(originally published in In Parentheses, Spring 2020)
Roadkill
eye contact
with a dead deer
on the side of the highway
his eyes were open
facing oncoming traffic
neither happy nor sad
just dead
face intact
a mangled cute
because I don’t find deer
particularly cute
nor useful when alive
(here I am
another man
valuing appearance
as commodity)
but I don’t want
to kill them
I am on my way
to see my underpaid
overworked partner
on memorial day
passing cop
after waiting
cop
and I swear
there are
more carcasses
than usual
in the tall grass
(originally published in In Parentheses, Spring 2020)
Erosion
I want to sketch surroundings
in my skull they are skeletons
each day dustwhite percussion
bleating purple ears forgetting
shapes faces family landscape
manicured blood lawn of bone
dry cocktails to leash legacy
within brick pen of a home
we call distance inside air
conditioned repainted longing
to be where you are inside
construction green architects
will lose the blueprint to
(originally published in former People, Winter 2020)
NYE, 2010
that was the monochrome new year
I reached for your leg like a frog with long
tongue and you were on
the couch flyswatting everyone
the walls were drunk too the way
we behaved in the wild dorms
animals celebrating the turn of a page
the setting of the sun it was winter
in Berea and we held each other
like it would never be warm
again we caught snowflakes on
our tongues left black bottles in dead grass
(originally published in Datura, Fall 2019)
Pool
so much depends
upon placement
an 8-ball
between stripes
at the edge
of a hole
a drunkard
aims the stick
knocks in
loss
with unbuttoned
cuff
(originally published in Door Is A Jar Magazine, Spring 2020)
Panera
I lost the important things
sweeping baguette crumbs
underneath an industrial
fan– cyclicality, the broom’s sashay
from one end of the room to
the next– sand blown from the center
of the desert, and how selfish
to keep water in the bottle
with other mouths to nurture.
(originally published in Adelaide, Fall 2019)