Sorry to remind you...

Body of Truth

Mist casts from the fountain

with dogs under maples

as kids run in arcs, hands
stretched out in a lesser city

by an outsized body of water

A great lake of gulled masts

listening to guitar, bathed          

naked by her voice       

with nothing to worry about

I reassure myself

Something like a storm approaching

how music pours—no, floods

in swirls of power the color of bruises

from branches, to the stoned shore

go music and children

Deep-breath and calm

some quality of mind

needed, wide-eyes

or else we fail to imagine

at the edge of water

Her lyrics are dishonest

what Romans breathed

in their last plucked strings

in fact, decay

she asks, do you believe? 

You can be sure

faith strands in sickponds

when you are gone

under layers of myth

between death and crap

Myth, a holy salve

smoothing down doom

with hallelujahs, he is risens

he is risen indeed

like methane fumes

Your blood will first be pumped

maybe some formaldehyde

or incinerator and boneyard

cherry with varnish, or cardboard

jewelry boxes for our detritus

Her voice wafting

heavy as a headstone

straight and polished

eulogizing grass and giggles

and yes, the water

Give me that source of myth

water, the familiar element

always afloat in itself

but sprinkle it over

the body of truth

D.I.Y. Guide for Young Men Contemplating Marriage or Fatherhood

How To Be An Angry Man

D.I.Y. Guide for Young Men Contemplating Marriage or Fatherhood

Learning to be an angry man is easy as one-to-three

First, listen intently to sadness perching on the eyelids

Don’t name it as such. Say you’re calling a spade a spade

Be with your hurt reflexively to avoid those taxing feelings

You would otherwise have to figure out. Be astute in speed

Muscle twitch no hesitation--just act--like a cocked gun

Next, ignore multiple public warnings--where conversation goes dead

Where children leave the table, where the wine stares back with one eye

Where you curl downstairs, hugging the remote, breath like an engine

Finally, reduce your awareness to perturbations

Where you can be critical, choose that, while narrowing the eyes

In the way that brows collide. Confirm this in too many mirrors

Cast all people and their ways into slots of good and bad

Sand and varnish those judgments into symbols

For automatic sifting. Caress them like a lover

Whatever you do with the head direct its gaze toward the truth

Truth: Your bear trap sanity from which the beast cannot bite out

In the red, sunken woods, those growling woods