The heart slaps along

The heart slaps along
And his lover
having had decent
and good parents
will reply,
There is a man
crossing the street
talking to himself
or
There are beautiful things
There are such beautiful things
I’ve literally written
a poem
You’ve literally read
a poem
coffee
black
like letters perched
on invisible wire
Teddy bear
picking seam
removing fluff
piling up
Teddy there
And
I write them out
So plainly
Too quickly
The pianist’s fingers bleed
for the raised voice
recognition
of barfly’s and
passersby
Follows
Gravity
Mixed
Literal
I tried drinking
Like Hemingway
But the loneliness was unbearable
A train not even crashing
No explosion
Just quietly retiring
Off the tracks
And if you let yourself go
you’ll bloom in a shimmering galaxy
of golden hair
And I keep pressing down
And I think of a pianist
And I want to make music
And I hate the things my fingers leave
And I make noise
And the pianist
Presses
Amazing Grace
The sky is mottled with pregnant clouds
Contractions of wind huff harder and harder
Trees protest throwing down leaves
And still I stay outside
I’m 35
We know each other’s vices
We’re driving to the deserts of the Midwest
We’ll see strip malls
gas stations
fast food
On our way to beauty
And now I’m closing
my eyes
and breathing in the pillow
she
leaned on
You, the conjuring of muses
Baring a bounty of abuses
Betraying only grace
And I can’t look away
Bow rips
Sheep guts scream
Bow rips
Audience roars
Speculative hypothesis
Speeding ticker tape
Brought to you by Skype
Hairy knuckled apes
Wearing masks
Hiding flasks
No more smiles
Wandering aisles
Pain, pangs, sharp, dull. Internal buzzing, humming, thumping, drumming. Moon lathers, shaving, slivering, chiseling, waning. Time
Surrounding loneliness with all that comes with writing and wrapping it all tightly around like a hug.
To give one thing for another.
To create in the mind a picture of what could be.
To act with another in harmony.
Let it be
in the silent scream
of a shooting star.
The echoes of rejoicing muted by the island’s sands. Drowned by waves of realization that we are sound itself reverberating off of infinity’s pretzel-ed pipe.
The castles moved straight,
the horses made hooks
as the black and white shapes met their fate.
When skunks didn’t remind me of smoking and mint was just for candy. When a quarter was more valuable in my piggy bank than in my pocket.
I have a hot temper
I am confident in changing a tire
I tremble when jumping a car battery
The question of my last breath is either sober or whiskey soaked. The continuous monologue in my mind reaches the end of its reel. I am not making sense but its my senses that make me.
The tooth fairy took all your teeth but I think she also has your innocence, and you never saw a dime.
Forever
is the theory
of love
applied science need
not apply
furs blur
cotton tails fly
shells drag
Heads stir
Tear down the bricks
Tear up the flix
Tear down the walls
Tear up the dolls
Tear down the malls
Tear of the curtain to see all the tricks.
Adventurous fingers
traversing dunes, peaks and valleys
pushing in territorial flags
Addict’s eyes
compromise
Attic’s rise
An empire of
foxtails
dust
rotted fence posts
chipping paint
Love is Molasses
Care is water
The thick and thin
of thieves.
Salivating teeth taste smoke.
Souls peep morning skies through dewy windows.
And wolves
drip bloody howls
into snow.
Follicles salute bloody snouts. Extending past split ends, peering at red snow, hearing howling, growling and snarls.
I stand on my toes and crane my neck, willing my head past the clouds to something else. I never seem to be able to reach it. I’ve stacked crates, books, climbed ladders, but I can never get high enough to see past the monochrome.
I watched her dance and ignored the insatiable appetite of the flames biting into my finger tips. An emptiness hit me, a tunnel opening up inside my chest, terror. Then the flame spit up its victory smoke and I was left with the memory of her dance.