I've Never Been So Happy to Be Covered in Blood

deep under the skin
it festers inside of me
and mostly i can control it

but
sometimes...

sometimes it takes over
i am filled with pain and powerless
i am consumed
infected

until i let it out

Every Day Is Father's Day

i was born bastard
and not a day goes by i don't remember that

it is not the only thing
but it was the first thing

sitting on the floor of a kindergarten class
as all the kids were giving their responses
to the teacher's request for our favorite
"stories about Dad"

i hated those fucking kids
that day
and
every day

as i stared out the window of the classroom
mesmerized by a dead winter branch
waving in the cold wind
i hated the teacher

i was pretty well behaved in grade school
mostly because i was always scared
so Mrs. Marquist had a lot of praise
for me

she liked me
and i usually liked her
too

but i hated her that day

more than Mrs. Marquist
more than the kids
i hated their dads

some of them sounded like real assholes
and i could tell by a look on Mrs. Marquist's face
that she thought so too
and that made me start
to like her again

some of the dads liked to yell
and be real mean to the kids
and drink lots of beer
and i hated them

some of the dads were really nice
and i hated them more

i hated the man who Mom told me was in Oregon
and had a different last name than me

it was a lot of hate for a five year old
and it was just the beginning

every day that has come and gone since
every Christmas
every 4th of July
every Monday
every Sunday
every Election Day
every Valentine's Day
and
especially
every Father's Day
only served to remind me
that i am not going to fit in

that i cannot walk with the herd
i cannot fly with the flock
i cannot ride with the wind

i was born bastard
and i will die bastard

every woman is just a woman i do not love

every man is just a man i'll never trust

every holiday is just a holiday i can't
relate to

well...
i guess
Halloween is alright

Something Between My Teeth

the nagging remnants of a shitty meal
a morbid clown in the form of spinach
plays its pranks on the tip of my tongue

my fingernail is not long enough
swishing it out with water is not working
and i don't carry a fucking toothbrush around

at my wits' end
i concede into a restaurant
where  the beauty at the host stand
comes to the rescue when she hands me
a tiny
carved
sliver of wood

my mouth is free
my mouth is clear of debris

now
if they only made a toothpick for the mind

The Picture Frame Blues

i've seen picnics and first kisses

turn into weddings and honeymoons

babies into toddlers

little league hats into graduation caps

never the star of the show

never thought about that much

at all

but

i've always been here

it is my job to be unnoticeable

just four sides

and quiet

A Watched Pot Boils

i.

when salt spills into the wound
i do not throw it over my shoulder
anymore

at seventeen i smoked a joint by myself
for the first time

when you're that high
and when you're that alone
thoughts will drift into places
they never dared to go before

through their own fences
around their own walls

a Pink Floyd cassette was
the soundtrack to the death of god

ii.

when a man wants something so bad
he can taste it
but they never told him that
it doesn't taste like vodka

at thirty-two i wound up in rooms full of necromancers
summoning the corpse of a spirit
with misplaced remorse

teams of half-assed Frankensteins
piecing together some monster of reason

no one had to believe "IT'S ALIVE!"
you just had to say it

iii.

when a moment alone is more graceful
than god ever was

at thirty-seven i stand over the mac&cheese
like it is the grave of my own desperation
dig a bit of salt from the wound
and sprinkle it into the water

no man has his own way of living
but you can get close

when you lock the door
and kick everyone out of your head
you can get close

when you have what the haunted never have
you can get close

when the only things you worship
are the walls around you
and the breaths you take

when you have a moment alone
you can get close
and that
is close enough

Once You Get Wet...

depression is a bit like
getting caught in the rain

at first you might
fuck around with an umbrella that won't open
or duck under a canopy full of holes

but eventually you just realize
you are going to be wet

once you know that's how it's going to be
it's easier to deal with

and even though it's not okay
you accept it

and even though it's not okay
you get used to it

and even though it's not okay
it's kind of okay

Suicide

Upon the cool breath of midnight,
stars between the teeth,
a moon was devoured.

Darkness swallowed each bit of light,
above and beneath,
shadows were showered.

She Felt Something in Church

It was in the front pew
that she sat, and she prayed.
Hoping to confess, but could not find the priest.
So, alone before God, she took to her knees.
Lustful thoughts, deep and new.
In her loins, devils played.

Heart stolen by sin's heist,
temptation coercive.
Flesh in constant quiver, arousal, dismay.
Immodest feelings that would not go away
In God's house, before Christ,
she asked Him to forgive.

The more she resisted,
the more that it hurt,
so she let go like a beast that no more begs.
With surrender, placed a hand between her legs.
As her young thighs twisted
she felt something in church.

[ glimpses of the sun ]

glimpses of the sun

pierce your hopeful eyes

through dark cloud armies

showers briefly turn to mist

lightning briefly relaxes

thunder briefly goes quiet

storm returns swiftly
great fury and rain
all hopes turn weathered

The Good, the Bad, and the Poetry

on a good day
a poem is just a death threat to emptiness

on a bad day
it is a love letter

A Tale of Two Dannys

part 1

when he loves you
he comes skipping
into your heart like a schoolboy

picking flowers out of the courtyard

picking major keys on the guitar strings

picking out handcrafted earrings at the hipster store

sweet little poems left in your inbox

anything he can do
so that you will love him back

part 2

when he loves you
watch out!

he's going to think you are his
as if every gift he purchased was just his way
of purchasing you

and like a
jealous
insecure
schoolboy
he's not going to get it
the first thousand times you tell him
it's over

taken hostage
you start to wonder if he's outside
peering in your window through a crack in the blinds

sweet little death-threats left in your inbox

anything he can do
so that you will love him back

The Star That Never Existed

i like to pretend in alternate universes
where everything is almost the same
just different in a few spots

under another sun
the two of us
worked
we were good for each other

under another moon
we enjoyed the nights
without
vodka
without
blow
without
whatever pills i got from dude

i like to pretend in alternate universes
where your eyes were still beautiful
and i never felt like a fool
for looking into them

under another sun
we weren't always
still drunk from the night before

under another moon
it didn't just keep starting all over

where i know you are alright
sitting next to me on a summer night
-not much different than this one-
gazing up at the star that never existed

the worm wrote a dirge
that put a catfish in tears
when it reached the hook

Mommy's Lie

Bobby heard all of his grandparents talking
about where he and his brother Ryan would live.
Mom's folks said, "We have more room, even a pool."
Dad's said, "Yes, but we live closest to the school."
Bobby heard enough, and snuck out to go walking,
inviting Ryan with a nod that was passive.

The older of the two, Bobby led the way,
toward the park where Mom used to take them.
Ryan just followed him, didn't say a thing,
and when they got there they both grabbed a swing.
The same old park, but it was different today.
The trees changed. The flowers changed, petals and stem.

Ryan broke the silence when he said, "Mom lied."
Bobby nodded, but his eyes stayed looking low.
Tears on her cheeks, she said she was just having some fun.
Just scaring Daddy, and his "friend" with Daddy's gun.
The boys waited in the car while both their parents died.
Now where the boys would live, no one seemed to know.

the spider's last meal
a violent appetite
wasp caught in her web