can’t there be a sense of positivity
that’s not sold the way soap is sold?
Poetry
50 Articles
they were doing nothing
they were sitting around
telling stories about the way the world is
and I could not argue
with the truth
of their sad conclusions
the wind in the trees puts me in a trance
again
in the backyard with a record player
a long orange extension cord
a rock star cellist from the 1940s
“What are you smiling at?”
the man with a bag of cans
snarls at me
as I swoop by on my bicycle
to the door
of the grocery store
why are you reading this
got to be something
you’ve got to do
yet here you are
frittering I’d say
LlamaVision!
these blank lines
on the notebook paper
make me bleak and uneasy
like the thought of a book
no one will ever read
in the far corner of an empty library
the torture goes on
I can hear the sounds of it
so I put up a wall
between me and it
and think of other things
it’s not like I haven’t tried to kill the bastard
who wields the voodoo doll and the long pins
I’ve looked everywhere
Looking through their eyes it was hard for me to walk as I judged my walk as…
She showed up last year with a group of drunken babies, hedonists and troubled look-at-me’s. She was…
I swear I got the Christmas tree
broke the ornaments out of the attic
sang the songs
held the child’s hand
showed up and coughed up
for the plate
‘Twas the night before Christmas, 1977, and if some goofball in a Santa suit had’ve walked through…
married a long time
work takes me on the road
for a few days
and nights
get home
stomp in the house
say, “I am very glad to see you, baby.”