Poem for Saturday, May 30, 2009

If You Could See the Morning Glories

maze-dangling on the trellis outside
your window in the summertime they're
delicate and blue in their soft fortitude

wake up, wake

up earlier than you can manage
the fatigue is literally in your veins because
I can see through you with my 3-D intuition

if you could only see the morning glories

if you could only see the way
the photons burst through their petals with
absolute truth before they're shriveled and dark

so, so dark

Poem for Wednesday, May 27, 2009

Beneath the Skyscrapers

I never felt so microscopic but
I scoped you out among
the Mexican peddlers and
corporate America

You saw me, too--

Our gazes stuck together like
two blocks of ice with
beautiful potential energy but
no kinetic energy

Our relationship, in essence--

You walked away down
Commerce St. in a blended urban
fashion and pretended like you
were part of something I wasn't and

Nothing much happened after that--

I drifted beneath the
illuminated skyscrapers and thumbed
a ride to the times before
I knew your name

Poem for Monday, May 25, 2009

Somewhere in Africa

A farmer doesn't understand that
slashing and burning his fields
leaves no protection
from the
terrible winds

(they're truly terrible)

He'll go to intense

measures--two Tauruses
head-
butting for the pride of spring--
to feed his family, but
if he only knew

And nothing
can be done about it
and nothing
can make up for it

not even a sub-Saharan sunset

Poem for Sunday, May 24, 2009

Bukowski's Advice to an Insomniac

The rain drips
(drip)
(drip)
like Chinese water torture
from God

such a lingering process
for an ephemeral soul
(drip)

you smoke
a cigarette
scratch your bug bite and
(drip)
ponder a few things:

what happened to Amelia Earhart
how volatile is the sun
do sirens have large lung capacities

and when it
becomes too much
(drip)
go inside and
go to fucking sleep