mom on phone

It is certainly not stoic or brave
holding your tongue while the parade
of homicidal cells
stomps pancreatically
ever on

oncologistic desire of
questionable provenance
wants the grocery store parking lot
whipping her hair
on a cloudy sunday around 2.
that's all you say

the mnemonic is spa
socratic, platonic, aristotelian
fed the dog, stopped at dollar general
and something like complaint,
rising up through the mass,

about the bad day
she needs more than you

On this particular day

the worst roadkill is white cat
dog claws clacka-lackey
collar tags jingle-snap
at my calf
adrenaline piss-squirt
sprinkle lawn my friend, sprinkle lawn.
slow train through town,
everybody shut down 20 minutes late
receipts plaster the windward wall
of la plaza mall

I’ve nearly ground a trail on my route ahead,
at the light I always turn right
but I pull in to cousin AJ’s and ask,
why you always so happy?
cause this little mutt in my lap, he says,
treats me like I have the potential to be someone great.
Yeah? I say.
Yeah, he says. That’s how I greet the morning.
Jesus.

green parakeets hanging like bats from the power line
announce Mr. Papers bearing brisket borne from his monogrammed smoker.
he can’t hear.
he says to me,
you know what I like about you?
my salty balls I suppose.
what?
I shake my head nothing and accept the greasy Chinet.
You listen, he says. You listen to me.

I ride to Dag’s for 5 gallons of cow shit.
no garden for me until I listen again about him
running a john deere
into the neighbor’s pool.

when I get home I hear daughter practicing.
I don’t want to disturb but I do
tap out a simple beat on my neglected kit
not 8 bars later, abandon charts
she joins me, improvising
big fat saxophone tone

King for a Day

there is nothing to do but straighten the rug
now that the subjects are gone.
my ass is slung
my aura, punctured, exhales
weak currents yet
beyond me, ambivalent
to me
though i grab the sky.

I will be spit into the ocean
of plastic and silt and human waste.
I will settle to the bottom pierced and pecked
by blind creatures who don’t appreciate their novelty.
pieces of my cold skull,
long imploded,
will never be discovered
and the waves will break,
scattering what little permanence they’ve known

inarticulations

I’m not that smart. Numbers-wise,
but I read. I read everything.
I see that you don’t
have time
I see that you form your opinions out of the ether used to make little
explosions in antique cars.
I’m not asking for cynicism
though the system is meant to bend us,
Or for you to ditch your baby Jesus.
but it’s so hard to see,
you begging for fucking authority
to feed you a bit
lead you
to sit, stay,
heel in your face.
spend even four hours in prison on a trumped up charge.
  smother your best love in dead faith
think about how you’re gonna hurt the person who put her there.
reach some solitary understanding through the mercy of grace
and form the word forgive.
the answer you get is,
for what?

apology

As I blunder through
Our variegated garden
wondering whether or not I’m man enough for you,
I miss an opportunity to defend your honor.
your strength,
your will.
 
I have gone to seed.
 
you would defend me against anyone.
Would not wait for context or evidence.
If you should falsely proclaim against a perceived slight,
so be it.

I’ve become incautious.

You are “a lot” as you say,
which at times may seem too much.
You don’t need me to define who you are.
You don’t beg my praise or permission.
You simply sacrifice to relieve the sting
of our borderline poverty
with a sense of purpose
akin to the peripheral last brushstrokes on a masterwork,
shooing phantom eraser crumbs from your sketchbook.
There is no part of me that wants you to need me,
to depend on me
if that were so, first,
we would be fucked,
and second, you wouldn’t be a lot.

You would be diminished; abbreviated.
intact but not static
a canvas that hides false starts
covered by strange experiments,
finished with an attempt to satisfy
your blinding curiosity.

Never once have I felt on trial for your setbacks.

This is the girl I fell in love with,
the woman I married,
the human I admire the most:
When she’s on, it’s a blessing.
Yellow is brighter,
the nights are cooler.
Then the wheel spins counter,
pulverizing ephemeral thrill
deep into despair.
I’ve learned to detect the migration of her soul,
to respect its turns and to look on it with a sense of wonder
and self-preservation.
I know she is dangerous.
I’m glad she is dangerous.
I’m cognizant of the associated risk.

I stand in awe.
your discipline, your fierce independence.
I fold like a warm blanket
in the embrace
you reserve especially for me.
I am sorry I left you alone,
my dearest partner of greatness.