Tuesday, October 23, 2012

Compound Fractures

mostly unwatched by me, a leatherskinned old laborer
his back to the hot bricks, beer bottle tilted against his bony bluejeaned hip
sucking a cut on the side of his gristletack thumb
crinkles his crowsfooted eyes, thunderheads in blue iris skies
looks wistfully at passing icecreamconed children
I worked on the bridge they got, he sprawls in southern sideways
to anyone, to me
guess I'm the mark for today's hobo storytime, least til the bus comes, late again
newspaper goes into sunshield mode, for now
seen all kinds of people there, he moans, some in joy, some in pain, people is people
this one time, just, this little girl, daddycarried as she passed, these eyes
like a fencecaught jackrabbit, sort of a quiver
and these chinadoll hands, too little really to grasp anything, maybe mommy's nose, a redpedaled rose
one of these hands outreached to me, pink and porcelain, feltsleeved elbows, a kinda longing desperate grasp
what business is it of mine
he says
her with her daddy, me the strangerfaced old steeplejack, utility belt, roadcone orange
eyestorm breaks now in the retelling
those moments when you're Jesusspoke, you listen. take care of these my lambs or someshit
but sometime old grayfaced reason shows up all headreared
you already hurt plenty kids, says lady reason in cool bay fogwinded voice
I compromise, fingerwiggle goochigoo, smileseek, nothing, and daddy walks on toward thicker mist
leaving me alone wonderpuzzling about painwrecked little girls
Then just as he's enough away, he up and chucks that little rabbitprincess into open sea, hops up on the railing and deadfalls after, out, down, soundless
that, that'll fuck you up

he laugh sighs, as if it's any kind of answer
and just then my bus comes, late again, goddammit

Thursday, July 12, 2012

Sonnet 3

If I have you, when we're too poor to eat
We'll have each other, savor hearts and souls,
And when the landlord kicks us to the street,
We'll live in writing desks and rabbit holes.
But food and water, shelter, sunlight, air?
If you're not here then these will not suffice.
So while the chance I'll lose you I can't bear,
I choose to play the game and roll the dice.
You say you melt; I hate this change of state.
I need you solid: that's my tragic flaw.
To know our end, I call upon my fate.
O, Lachesis, give me my denouement.
To perish by your side or say goodbye?
When faced with such an option, I choose die.

Saturday, June 30, 2012

Sonnet 2

Let's get a dog. And take off in your Jeep.
We'll drive her south until her engine fails.
We'll carry off the scraps we want to keep,
And then we'll ride the rails (if there are rails).
We'll watch the sunsets, make the sand our beds,
And take some sad brown prostitutes for wives.
We'll woo with empty wallets, empty heads,
And empty promises of better lives.
And when we've reached the ends of tawdry earth
We'll shed these aging bodies and set sail,
Take harbor in that mad, celestial berth,
And relish in whatever's past the veil.
To never come back here I would prefer
(Until this world forgets we ever were).