Terrified by the sight of my own blood

First Visit To My Grandparents


I walk the graves to find my own
Dripping genetic sweat on clippings of grass
Searching for their names, my name
In Pennsylvania. From Austria-Hungary

Past suicide row, the lawn mower calls it, by the scrappy trees
Where he doesn’t go. Finally, I kneel under the pines
Kissing tribute to their granite lives, smooth and burning
In the Slovak town by Hermitage, in Sharon

Where pig blood drained to the Shenango River
Where Dad’s pitch-forked fish bled in the Shenango
Deer grazing under the spent orchard above the Shenango
Cicadas screaming as the highway spoons the Shenango                                    

Numb stone walls, Sharpsville Steel, bricks
Muscarella’s Restaurant, beer and tattooed boys
Lawns of used furniture and tackle shop under the flag
Everyone grown old on the slag heaps by the Shenango

Patagonia, where the Slovaks arrived to steel mills and railroad Co.s
Patagonia, where warped boards are scraped of paint by years  
Patagonia, where unemployed weeds dawdle on the baseball field
Patagonia, where possessions of paycheck days are sold on lawns

With tongues of moss spewing fuck the future
Channeling fathers’ chapped knuckles across lips
Where slate turns to cardboard on sodden sheds
Walking the asphalt with get-by thoughts

I have come as an explorer
But leave having been ripped
From the old world, terrified
By the sight of my own blood

Fuck rummaging, I am everything!

Just About Everything


Fuck poetry’s inane means of shedding sorrow!
Rummage to the bottom for a source of new
I am not the Phoenix/the lotus/there is no sunrise at hand
Everything for which I’ve cared for is cast in sand

Fuck the Phoenix and the lotus and a new dawn
Rummage by the waterside for signs of birth
I am blanketed down for a winter of divorce
Everything I am is drown in ripples of remorse

Fuck the dying flowers in the vase of putrid water
Rummaged by a partner who tipped it over
I am trying to fill this page with honor, but shame
Everything since July has changed but my name

Fuck the dumb-ass stunt and blunt force of the F word!
Rummage my possessions for a key that unlocks
I am a diagnosis of cancer/lewd dancer/a weed
Everything that love has brought me just bleeds

We're told we should endure for this or that

Post Apocalyptic Scene Development | Advanced Animation ...
Ring


You’re told a new beginning is ahead
So noose a hundred camels while you’re on
It’s all post-apocalyptic now
Nose dripping freely in the lawn

The records spin on gasps of air in troughs
Which children drink from knowing they will die
The horns of Moses tangle in a knot
As fashioned for the canvass in a lie

Butter hails in the boulevard of splits
You ruminate or masturbate in shifts
Should poison think to pour itself a glass
You’re busy cherry picking from the if’s

We’re told we should endure for this or that
Eyes shut in tight cacophony
Authors lay out stones for walking on
Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani

Divorce, a word for cowering at the hip
Insane asylums built for such a thing
I have a ticket for that very trip
And slip the skinny finger from the ring

This historical moment requires all men and boys to know these 18 things about rape

Sad and worried old woman | Flickr - Photo Sharing!
Eighteen Formulae for Rape

     “There is no folly of the beasts of the earth which
       is not infinitely outdone by the madness of men.”
                                    -Herman Melville, Moby Dick

1.
A bench. A breakroom. A parking lot
This form of rape is where it’s been
On the couch, a canyon, a moaning wide backseat

2.
Then the fear, a dedicated space
A new rule network of the brain

3.
Rape has evolved
It comes from the bone
Taught in the sinews
How the blood flows
As action potential
From our forefathers

4.
On the stand
In the courtroom
In depositions with ash trays

5.
Rape is onlookers circled, thrusting
Cell phones, uploading
Rape is in a chant

6.
Rape is a sexual position
One’s inability to enjoy again

7.
Rape is everywhere on the minds of men

8.
Rapists and War
Rape is in war

9.
The act finds solace in muscle
Inequity, in power

10.
It is in the call to police
In the come-down-to-the-station
In questions and badges
In the kit

11.
Rape is a memory
Positive feedback cycles
Groups, books, therapy

12.
Rape is in the animal world
And is not called rape

13.
Rape is teaching your little girl stranger danger at age 4

14.
Rape is a crying shame

15.
It’s on the mind on a lovely walk
In the woods/along the shoreline
An ocean liner after ten, vibrating engines at the prow

16.
The expected jail cell
An unexpected monastery
A marriage bed
After a nursery rhyme

17.
It’s the number of times stored in his head

18.
Rape is carved into Grandma’s face
But not on her gravestone
In the long grasses of memory

NYC poem for NYC and those who roam NYC

NYC: A Tale of Two Cities - The Travel Bug Digest
NYC


NYC 24 linear miles skull brandishing Scandinavia
On the sidewalk, watch yourself on the sidewalk
Food gum blood spit et cetera on the sidewalk
Human excrement just when the mind rests on the sidewalk

NYC the bakery, Amy’s, armed robberies, peace talks
Yarmulkes, recycled handbags for a hundred, hijabs
Karma bouquets, cocktail dresses cocktail dresses
Cocktail dresses jaywalking legs to the heavens

NYC concrete colliding metal sculptures of stone
Bronze sculpture melting to human sculpture
Washing up in Starbucks bathrooms
Lurching pregnant and homeless, Please help

NYC stands, stands of donut trinket mango nudes, stands of paletas
Walking while African, gay, tourist, unemployed, walking while employed
In that park, through that window, down that pit
NYC is hardly working

NYC is earning 40 times your monthly rent
Meditating monks with guide books in Brooks Brothers
Pile driving distraction, evading divorce
Vomiting into drains, eyeballs filled with sand

NYC bending into ghosts laundering time in the winds
Endowing, declaring, evoking Godzilla thrill shams
Scaffolding badges and menus and case numbers
In pot fumes zig zagging in puzzles of bones

How it is

Image result for rainy street
Ring


You’re told a new beginning is ahead
So noose a hundred camels while you’re on
It’s all post-apocalyptic now
Nose dripping freely in the lawn

The records spin on gasps of air in troughs
Which children drink from knowing they will die
The horns of Moses tangle in a knot
As fashioned for the canvass in a lie

Butter hails in the boulevard of splits
You ruminate or masturbate in shifts
Should poison think to pour itself a glass
You’re busy cherry picking from the if’s

We’re told we should endure for this or that
Eyes shut in tight cacophony
Authors lay out stones for walking on
Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani

Divorce, a word for cowering at the hip
Insane asylums built for such a thing
I have a ticket for that very trip
And slip the skinny finger from the ring

Ye tang che in the waiting room

Image result for acoustical panel ceiling
Waiting Room


In Tibetan, ye tang che
To be totally tired
Hopeless
To renunciate the ground
On which you’ve struggled
An abdication
Of our little lives
Ye tang che

Here in the waiting room
We are there
Ye tang che

The arms of a felon
Tan bruised fat slick
Decorated with years
Drooping, abdicating

Do not stare
Gaze to the ceiling
To acoustical panels
Chins jutting up
Only the carpet speaks     
Of incidents
And illnesses

So, let’s get this straight
Ye means completely
Tang che is exhausted
For now, wondering how
I knocked on the elevator doors
To confirm if they were brass

They were silent
Your ring is gone
It’s over, she says      

And you wait