sits weeping in your desert (poemoff 2)

sits weeping in your desert (poemoff 2)

Alice huddles under a rock
sandstorm ripping the breath from her lungs
drying her tears before they are
out of her eyes

the Cheshire Cat's smile
does not linger here like so many
postcards written but not sent

The title of this poem comes from "WHEN YOU RUN OUT OF AIR?" by Zack.

the protestant ethic (poemoff 2)

the protestant ethic (poemoff 2)

is this god?
booms over the loudspeaker
as if the question being asked
matters to the masses
in line at the bank
to cash their checks
which really are their time
the hours of their lives
spent so spending comes cheaply

it is such a price to pay

heartless papers
written in blood
(lemon invisible ink
that only jesus can decode
without an easybakeoven of truth)

victory is a flock of seagulls
dead at the bottom of the mineshaft
threepiece scuba suits are needed
to dive but where do you go
when you run out of air?

The first line of this poem comes from "Heaven Hangs in the Air" by Zack.

oregon portrait #1

oregon portrait #1

each
sadly sickly
raindrop oozes
through the cracks
in my car door

and
wets my pants
in a spot
black as blood
and deeper blue
than my
memories of you

were blue.) your eyes were blue, (poemoff 2)

were blue.) your eyes were blue, (poemoff 2)

i see you, but
i do not look.
heaven hangs in the air
like mist from crashing waves
of the ocean. a dead fish
washes upon the shore.
i nudge her gently
with my toe.
she does not remember the sea
even though the waves lick at her scales.
her glassy eye reflects the sky.
i use it as a crystal ball
to learn that
you aren't
here.

The title of this poem comes from "i could be so easily broken.) my" by Zack.

and desire? (poemoff 2)

and desire? (poemoff 2)

MAKE UP YOUR MIND

there are no secrets
deeper than the ones
hidden in my subconscious.

snowflakes mix with wine spilled.
one droplet is shaped like a heart.
it cracks as you step over to me
and stand on the shifting snow.
(my blood red heart oozing with
cold is shattered in a moment. you did not know
i could be so easily broken.) my

brain thinks in haiku
syllables stretched thinner than
gold thread of smiles.

it's a good time that's not going to last
so i cling to every second
with the vicelike grip of heaven
'til my muscles weaken
and i let go and
flutter to the stars.

The title of this poem comes from "AND NIGHTS I WISH TO BE UN-REMEMBERED" by Zack.

on a bus on the road below, (at night (poemoff 2)

on a bus on the road below, (at night (poemoff 2)

the lights of Spokane
glisten behind me.
i wish that the lady next to me
didn't smell like three day old cheese.
her smell peremates my clothes
(and will 'til tomorrow
when she leaves the bus in Tacoma
and i'm left alone
and smelly in my seat).

tonight i'll eat hashbrowns
and wish for eggs
(and if wishes were fishes
i'd get a rash).
bus rides last too long
and nights i wish to be un-remembered
stay chiseled in brain
wrinkles show i'm getting older
and not any wiser.
tomorrow i'll be home and wish
i was anywhere but here.

The title of this poem comes from Mr. Zack's "(perhaps it time to try again)."

i could only find myself by following the trail of paperclips. (poemoff 2)

i could only find myself by following the trail of paperclips. (poemoff 2)

i looked inside the fridge
but the real me wasn't
there. i searched bottles of beer but
only another beer waited at the bottom.
(perhaps it is time to try again.)
looking inside your eyes
for a reflection of me,
i saw repulsion, lust and fear.
but you don't understand.
why bother trying to explain?

i am all reds and yellows
you are looking for gray

where are the cardboard box mansions of yesteryear?
everything was easy then
except growing up.

The title of this poem comes from Zack's "AND REMOVE THE SHADES".

red or blue like playing cards (poemoff 2)

Due to some personal issues, I kind of gave up on the poemoff. But poemoffs are fun to do, so I wrote my next submission in hopes that Zack would forgive me and write his next poem.

red or blue like playing cards (poemoff 2)

a carefully crafted pokerface
crumbles under the heat.
my hand trembles--
is that a tell?
to speak one must go all in
and remove the shades
from so many misspent glances.
should i hoard my chips
or should i eat them?
plastic chipping under chomping jaws
little shards to fly about the table.

The title of this poem comes from Zack's "YOU ONLY TALK ABOUT LIFE".

the photographer

the photographer

winter is cold
yet blurred with swirling colors.
the bouncing of shapes--
the friction--should warm
(at least the skin) but
it's only a temporary warmth
the way that a bonfire can only
heat one side of your body at a time.

this is a lense i cannot remember
blink

the pink of my flesh glows.
it knows something i don't
for on monday, weekend music is a
dim piano solo played by a five year old at his lesson.
twist your eyes and you can just hear it.

memory of the sea

memory of the sea

salt stings freshly shaved legs
but still we wade
waves washing above our ankles

gas station haiku

gas station haiku

smell of fuel as you
pump. counting words with fingers.
hurry back to me.

lake drive

lake drive

riding and laughing
nervously in the night

we've got no secrets

when your eyes twinkle
i know i've been right
all along

you,
just like the night full of stars
(which i can see reflecting off the
river warmer than my hands
as they pick at dead
skin that will someday scar),
cannot lie
to me

my fingernails cannot hide the dirt
but i'll get clean with washing

summer blonde

summer blonde

i don't work
at a card shop
but i could.
no man
buys these things
for himself.

you stand
at dairy queen
looking like
a peach
(is it your work uniform?)
while waiting for a
chicken strip basket a la mode.
i step into
the shadows,
check my gloss, and
dab a little
poisoned apple
to my lips.
they must be perfect
although you will
never kiss them
except in dirty fantasy.

blogger temptations

Stupid blogger tempting me with promises of an easier blog! Perhaps it will be better someday, but it's going to take some work to fix all the "upgrades" I just made. If your blog has disappeared from the sidebar, it will return! (Luckily I'm doing this at a time when I haven't been posting much. I'm hoping that I won't really have a lot of readers notice the weirdness of my remodled blog.)

your untouchable face

your untouchable face

winter is cold
and snowflakes fall
in sheets (like icing
onto doughnuts yet not as
sweet). they
coat my tounge
as i lift my face
skyward to the blackhole
night. it was a night
like this when i fell. when i got up
my hand was
cut. blood stained my
white glove. stumbling, wishing
i could move faster
out of the cold, i
slipped on ice. when
one is numb
she can easily avoid
the cold.

still life with Kabuki

still life with Kabuki

today is a chill stare.

pages are my mirror--
fun house (yet i do not laugh)--
a destorted version of me
to be sorted by factory workers in China
for seven cents an hour.

my mask is ceremic blue
with eyeholes wide enough
to see the past.
cheeks flecked with snowflakes
that cannot melt
even in summer.

"i love you (and not in a friendly way)"

"i love you (and not in a friendly way)"

rain turns to ice
during the one a.m. stumble
from the hard times bar.
i wish i could
kiss you. i dream
of being barechested in
your arms.
don't make me remember that she's waiting at home.
smile at me
and tell me how smart i am.

the mistake

the mistake

late night circles and squares
eyes blurred by oily lenses
and a head too filled
with hearts and stars
to remember to smile

end it all
before cheeks get too warm
lightly brushing fingertips
are a wonderful secret
that i must hide
from you (has anyone ever
written a poem about you?)

the first smile of the new year
might be the last
unless i can hold
the clouds in open arms

raindrop eyes or smooth gray pebbles [?] (poemoff 2)

raindrop eyes or smooth gray pebbles [?] (poemoff 2)

if a tree falls in the woods
will I be there to
hear it? light filters
slowly through sunsoaked pines
branches reaching
for lost memories.
they slip through
needles spread out--reaching
for something better--
a bigger forest.



Once again, my apologies to Mr. Zack. I have too much going on. Stupid Christmas season.

The title of this poem comes from "THEY CAN MISS" by Zack.

other way to move blood (poemoff 2)

other way to move blood (poemoff 2)

a sharp knife
can prick
or stab. you must
be careful or
beware. a gun can
shoot bullets, but
they can miss
tiny targets
(the heart is small).

i tap the window pane
with my forehead. The
glass is cool and damp.
one crack can
slice my finger,
oozing blood from the
shard. sometimes

i sit alone and
think of you.




The title of this poem comes from "OR HEART" by Zack.

beat i hear, comes from (poemoff 2)

beat i hear, comes from (poemoff 2)

tip top tap
tip top tap
drip drop drap
drip drop drap
tip top
tip top
splitter splatter

yo! ho! ho! (and a bottle of rum)


Zack, if this is too terrible to work with, I'll write another one. Maybe I'll write another one anyway and let you pick which one to use.

The title of this poem comes from "OR HEART" by Zack.

retreat (poemoff 2)

retreat (poemoff 2)

as if unluck was something
i could avoid
i stepped around the ladder
watching the black cat cross my
heart and hope to die

in the dark
it doesn't matter
(a cat is a cat when it's black)
but in shining sun or
gloomy fog (dewdrops clinging
to the grass) i step
around

break my leg
or heart
(or maybe it's
a fleshwound)

and i sit down
bathe in the sun
and tell secrets
to the wicked witch



The first line of this poem comes from Zack's "INSTEAD OF YOU."

cans, broken bottles that glitter (poemoff 2)

cans, broken bottles that glitter (poemoff 2)

toss you away
like so many
yellow McDonald's wrappers

cheeseburgers would be more satisfying

each second spent
eating chocolate

piling wrappers
next to my bedside

instead of you



The title of this poem comes from Zack's "HEAVEN'S LONELY STARS."

anything towards some other place (poemoff 2)

anything towards some other place (poemoff 2)

red sky at midnight--
blood red as my tears
reflecting in a pool of sludge.
tomorrow will be easier
than today
(which I guess was hard enough).

september anger
bubbles from the boiling pot on the stove
as i heat water for tea.
i did not ask for this.
you send
heaven's lonely stars
sealed in a shabby cardboard box
and they leak
out the sides
and stain the carpet with light.

and my twin bed,
empty enough for two,
sits alone.

The title of this poem comes from Zack's "DARK WORLD, GROWING DESERT: A SOLITARY MACHINE HUMS ON THE BEACH, AN ATOMIC FACTORY INSTALLED IN THE DESERT. "

early or fucked--i think only of endings (poemoff 2)

Sorry it's late.


early or fucked--i think only of endings (poemoff 2)

there is no silence
greater than
the heavy moment
after i hang up
the phone
when you
weren't finished
talking

The title of this poem comes from Zack's "THE STRESS SOAKED SYLLABLES."

eerie stepchild syndrome

eerie stepchild syndrome

cry as you dance and
prick blood from your fingers.

do you remember
the white barbie convertable

i got that christmas?
we played

until the sun came up
in whispered voices.

summertime left us
with barren trees of winter.

nowheregoing (poemoff 2)

I think Zack has either forgotten how to read or he cheated with the last poem on purpose. That's okay. I'll write my poem anyway.

nowheregoing (poemoff 2)

you repeat these words,
the stress soaked syllables
pulsing with preditory power.
i wish those words could be mine.

fuck me
you scream into the night,
and i answer
with a slap.
tuesdays are worth more
than saturdays
when drunken breath
fogs my glasses
and ruins already weakening eyes.


The title of this poem comes from "SEEING" by Zack.

my tree of tounges (poemoff 2)

my tree of tounges (poemoff 2)

eve made me a
crown of thorns
to christen my dry scalp
as i sway in a garden of my own content.
posion me with love
felt only by a man from heaven
gracing mortal angels
with heavyhandedsins
too numerous to name.

naked in the tomato patch,
i pluck these strange fruits,
shine them with my shirt,
and gather hidden whims
beneath my belt.

"sink," you say,
"your pretty white teeth
into deliciousness not
seen or heard
and you will know
the beauty of the world."
yet tomorrow's the apocolypse--
rain of crimes unforgiven--
but you lay sweetly
at my side and slither lies
through closed teeth.

The title and first line of this poem come from Zack's "IS NOT THE BEST THAT HEAVEN HAS."

tired of playing secondbest (poemoff 2)

tired of playing secondbest (poemoff 2)

the pastelpink rose
lying next to me
and dying
is not the best that heaven has
to offer
for my tears


The title for this poem comes from "FOR LACK OF ANY BETTER THING TO DO" by Zack.

the stars have not burnt my skin (poemoff 2)

the stars have not burnt my skin (poemoff 2)

whisper her your soul
in the soft wind of snowflakes
catching in eyelashes

i do not know your
memories of chest compressed
by days that are too long
and nights unremembered

the moon is dark
and yet i see
when i pull back my shade
the glistening white of
diamonds in the dust

The title of this poem comes from "YOU ARE A WARMRED SACK" by Zack.