“if it was up to me, honey,
my beard would be 3 ft. long
I’d never cut my toe nails,
live in Tangier
eating oranges and
writing poems.”
“is that a poem?”
“no, it’s simply not true.”
May 27, 2011
May 22, 2011
written a year and two months ago – a revisit
off the cuff
Most of the greatest poets it seems really are assholes. I believe poets to be highly opinionated egotists bent of displaying to the audience the poet’s mind and naked view, almost a forced voyeurism, of not only the world the poet occupies but the audience that reads them as well. As a poet you must be ballsy and arrogant to even consider participating in the art as an adult as a serious pursuit I mean to say.
hand some women a banana
and they eat it.
Hand it others
and they masturbate on the spot.
off the cuff
but most would talk
about it, indefinitely.
meanwhile, I’ll
sleep as sound as poet in
post
coital recreation
aftermath.
February 14, 2011
Happy Birthday Gregory Heins
oh, and it’s Valentines day too.
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a love poem
I caught your glance
and offered a small gift
which you refused.
an apple,
a token, to toe
the water.
another month and you would acquiesce
to my teenaged display of nerves.
I was twenty-three
you were soft and scared
and thinking I’d meant to use you
but I’d love you instead.
you humored me
answering every question
I had.
you were twenty-five
and I knew, over coffee
that first night
at Denny’s,
our life would be braved
unknown
together.
March 4, 2010
regret
I
regret
things
like
parking
spaces,
but never lovers.
One
thinks
of
looks
across
tables
or
rooms,
but never someone who broke your nose.
– I wrote this
the platitudes of willful resemblance 