Writing is the most important step in human evolution. Writing is movement. Writing is thumbs and fingers pushing matter around to where it was not. And where it will be. When this generation of lives dies, the Writing will still be. And the young will accommodate for the old’s mistakes. And the young will lounge on the old’s labor. And cats and dogs never got this because cats and...
Poem structure: I say cat people make better lovers. You say dog people make better lovers. We both try to prove our point by becoming the best examples of our cases. And we end up being the best cat / dog love machine of all time. (Insert flowery words.)
2 squirrels Fighting. No. Not fighting. Birds and the bees and 2 squirrels Not fighting. Arguing over Who’s gonna be on top. And she must smell Like ripe opportunity Because at the base of the elm tree Appears another squirrel. And from the sidewalk, 2 more. Now five squirrels Chasing each other around the elm. Girly steps out for a breather While bark flies. Nothing can...
Drink you like the finest wine Just the right sweet Just the right dry. You put a fire in my chest So that I am warm Through the cold rain. Intoxicated on your beauty I sing soft deep in your ear And we slow dance by the river Inciting geese and ducks The only souls brave enough To join us in our rain drenched promenade. Ten AM and my decision making is gone I see the thousand thousand splashes Of...
Pretending that it’s fall. Wings of the crickets- Winds of September. Cicadas of July Crashing into trees- Leaves of October Falling. One hundred degrees or more Are nothing But points in three hundred and sixty. Autumn is coming. Let us be cool. The night sky Doesn’t keep us in the shade, Only presents us with Summer night masterpiece. Forget the massacre of the summer sun. And forget...
Sigh of relief Found the van All my friends are there Got square wheels But the hill’s steep Peculiar how it goes so fast Down the mountain Rolling rolling Throws me off and I hit my head Get better and I’m at it again. Sigh of belief Found the van again Making our way back up backwards Look out the window See the trees moving so fast All in a spin Kick out the back door Rolling down...
Last night I slept in the yard Under no stars And wished I wasn’t me. Wished that this patience and understanding Would get me somewhere besides this safe house I miss danger. But who can afford danger these days? This life is a bag of nuts. I wish I was atop that bridge again Naked to the world Knowing that somewhere in that river Big ass rocks are waiting to impale me. And I let go and...
Take your soul Wind up And throw it way out on the ocean Just to see if it can swim (It can)
The hardest way to get a woman Is to want her more than anything. When your whole happiness hinges On her willingness to be your everything Her instinct is escape. She is not the foundation to your future home Nor the sun that makes your vines grow. Forget about her. But if you relinquish your mad desire And just dance to dance She’ll pursue you And so will every other woman on the floor....
Somewhere in that crowd I bumped into Buddha. He was drinking Whatever beer was on sale And he was jamming out. He had this big grin on his face I guess because he loves bluegrass music. I didn’t get to ask him anything Just smiled and nodded as I passed by. He closed his eyes and swayed.
In my air conditioned living room On my bookshelf Next to my potted aloe My house cat sleeps. In her dream She springs upon The young gazelle Teeth ripping through warm flesh Her furrough stained Red with prey. What do you dream, my cat? Africa.
Knowing you I am walking atop clouds Above birds Above all horizons. With my arms outstretched I shoot lightning. But when the adrenaline wears off I am at a standstill With thin air. And I think: “I am going to fall. And when I hit the ground My back will shatter And I will be a puddle.” But suddenly I see the sun Hanging there without trying Burning with a fire so honest Because...
May we be carried along Led to where we need to end up. May all the tumultuous times be Earth breaking Being carried along the same stream That takes us. May we carry little pieces Of all we come across And spread seeds to wetter fields Where flowers and fruit Listen to the stream. May it remind us That dancing light is A rippling reflection. That this moment is fluid. That we are moving Rushing,...
How many lives ago was it When I was your sister? Was it last time around? When I was your slave? When what you said go’ed? When I baked your bread? When you ate well? Was it when I crawled on all fours? When you flew faster than a flash? When I caught you on a zip tongue Capture. And you were mine? Was it when you sang the sweetest Song among all birds at the Bird convention. And I was Your...
Road Trip Final Score
Vultures - 149 Cops - 10 VULTURES WIN!
Road Trip Day Three
Last night I slept with no bed Camped with no tent. The picnic table was hard But the ground was wet with rain. So for the night The table under the roof was my home. I woke many times Stirred by the weeee-ooo-weee-ooo Of midnight cicadas And the constant cricket jig. And again at four AM When unexpected silence Pulled my ear drums inside out. And all of it was glorious Because I live the way of...
Road Trip Day Two
I have to write nor while there’s still light. I’m camped out at Burns Park in North Little Rock. And I forgot my tent. All I have is a dirty blanket from my trunk. I don’t mind except that I was planning on sleeping under the stars, and rain is coming. The manager of this RV park is letting me sleep under this outdoor pavilion. He’s a nice old man who lives with his...
Road Trip Day One
My car keeps track of miles traveled. But I am not a machine. I track my progress by counting vultures. Vultures. Scavenging on death. Celebrating every armadillo crushed under eighteen wheels. Where there are vultures, there are surely dead things. But where there are dead things, there were live things. Myself to be included. And so with each vulture I count, I am closer to death. And am readier...
I am FREE! Free to ride my bike With no shirt on And blind passing drivers With my mirror white skin. Free to deafen pedestrians With the biggest blackest voice My lungs can muster - Your love keeps lifting me higher - A freedom I didn’t have to fight for Because I am free to be at peace A freedom that is my birth rite as an individual. And every label is ripped off my mattress And my bed...
If you search for me I won’t be found. I’m sorry I can’t help you right now. You’re on your own. Don’t worry You can swim. I’m fighting demons. Wrestling. Earning scars. You don’t want to be here And I surely don’t want you to see me When the blue in my eyes is Not the calming ocean flow you’ve come to know But the apex of heat - The blue...
I swear right now I’m seeing green lights Everywhere I go But no one is moving. Like I want to go so fast But these people are all in my way. How many of you slow fucks Do I have to step on To breakthrough?
If we were both A lot fatter Like really really Fat, When we’d sit on the couch We’d be a lot closer to each other Because there would be More of us On the seat.
I love the way you touch me. Twining my fingers around yours Is climbing a tree Is my favorite past time. In a all these branches You’re the roots. You know where the good shit is And you’re the closest to sustenance. I think I’ll go for a bike ride To see if you’re outside. Hm hm hm, I bet you are.
I’m a tower and you’re paradise. From my view to you The sea hurls waves against me. Might need to find a new route But somehow I will see you happy. Good weather till then. May our crops yield fruit. We’re going to need a stockpile of energy To reach middle ground Where we’ll find home On the way back home.
Just right On your nose That’s where the most Ignored part of you goes. You look right over it all your life And only realize it’s there When you’re pulled out of your zone And have to think about it. Like right now. Now it has you. And it hurts your eyes Because the end of your nose Is nothing to look into For too long.
The Expensive Laundromat
Giraffes are gay. By that I mean The males have anal sex with each other. I don’t know what the females do. At the expensive laundromat - I’m the only one wearing pj pants. The hot black guy just left. He folded his laundry just like I will But he was not wearing pj pants. I wonder what all these people are thinking?
Somewhere there’s this sheep That was raised by lions. And it’s the fiercest sheep ON THE PLANET! And it will fuck shit up. And it will reign in the field Because it knows it’s the strongest. And its spine is the straightest spine Vertebrae by vertebrae. And you don’t want to mess with this sheep. You just don’t. The End.
I went to the doctor to get this wart on my foot surgically removed. My doctor (who was my favorite karaoke dj in town) told me he wanted to have my feet cut off, send my feet to the lab, remove the wart, reattach my feet with stitches, and let them grow back together. This frightened me, and I told him I wasn’t ready for that. He said they might be able to do it a different way. So he sent...
Full of beer like a wooden keg On the neck of some Saint Bernard in the mountains Coming up to you Offering myself. Touch the barrel and Feel wet mahogany Wood dewed out With whiskey condensation. And you’re freezing and wet And I’m hot in your chest With a warmth that reminds you Your heart still beats. And I can’t take you home Because there’s a whole lot more Lost fucks...
Chillin in the cooler At the Meat Market Where we don’t necessarily want to eat the stuff Just rub up against it So we can smell it and Lick the taste of sausage Off our fingers when we get home.
Finishing Day 12 without cigarettes. But I have taken a few drags here and there from other people’s fingers. I still call it Day 12. I’m not picky. Everything in moderation- Including moderation. But I really want one now. Maybe beer isn’t good for this. Beer makes me want to smoke. I should cut the bullshit and go with whiskey. Hard liquor vapor in the lungs is much more...
I’m watching you labor over this jigsaw. The pieces keep escaping your hands Because you’re so sweaty and worked up And you don’t know how you’re ever going to Get the thing done. So I’m looking at it, and I can tell that When you complete it It’s just going to be a big picture of A broken puzzle. So I get up and do my thing And when you look up and Ask what...
Frustrating. Watching you let so many douche-boggins Explore your body with their Oily fingers. Or when they survey your face With their hungry mouths. Can’t you tell by the words that Drizzle off their bobbing tongues That they’re not so much the shit storm you crave As the puddles when the storms are done? Meanwhile your great admirer- Your lover- Watches from a distance. And...
Jacob, My little celery stick, you’re probably wiser than me by now. But as we know, these moments of clarity come and go like a lightning bug’s ass. I’m sick. I can function enough to work, but not enough to be happy. I feel like I flossed my throat with one of those cacti I’ve been planting. My lungs are a hurtin unit. I can’t sing. I can’t greet a...
I’m not really a poet. I just live in a pretty world. I’m completely inept at fiction But it would be a theft of your time To bullshit you. Someday My art- My talent Will leave me While I sit on a porch swing With nothing but a dog and a landscape And I will become completely Satisfied with life. Until that highest ambition of mine - Dog, landscape, porch swing - Until that happens, I...
Alone singing No audience But strangers I love. Giving up on the thing. Hoping that works. Time will tell The things We already know. Put in. Putt out. Pay five bucks a day for service. Find yourself responsible For everything. All encompassing Love for life. All that matters. Honesty Things Words Feelings The that can’t be expressed. What’s left when you’re gone. The core....
If I was in your crowd You’d have a standing ovation. And all the faces you make Would be the highlight of many lives. I don’t care that you don’t write Your own songs. I know You figured out how to just Be you. And you loved riding it all the way. Baby, I owe you everything. The whole of my person is music And you started it. I want to quit smoking cigarettes Because if I die...
Strong layer of rock juts Over soft slatic stone where Running water seeps through. Below lie crumbled boulders Felled by the fortitude of Gentle stream. Mid March finds water low enough We fjord the river stone by stone by Balance beam trees long fallen. A rabbit. A beaver dam. Swarms of tiny flies making it hard to breathe. Turtles and tadpoles and not another Human soul. Here we find ourselves...
Away with words. What’s there to communicate anyway Besides these Questions better left unasked- Wanna fuck? Answers beat questions like Paper over rock. So I roll up my sleeve while You lick your two fingers and Pelt my wrist till I bruise. You Want to fuck. As long as you do it without asking I give you permission to hurt me.
Wanting to run So much your legs leak acid Melting your knees Flaking off at the notion of action. Stability through sterilization. Never stumbling Heel toeing, sanitized. Enough dirt in you to plant a tree Give you shade So the light never has to see The dark parts. Run, damn it. Get some sun. Change colors.
Sometimes when I’m sucking on a fire The flame comes through and burns me In a place where is only touched on a Deep kiss with my fingertips pushing Beneath the surface of your scalp. The part of my lip that is only exercised Making an absence of itself to reveal Smile tooth to let you know we’re good. But when I suck fire Sometimes it burns. Catches on my mouth- Filtering my lungs...
Chief among the things I Want from you is Your yoke To plow your fields To carry that cross on your shoulders When every other man only wants To nail you to it nightly. If I asked you for your burden Could I borrow it? No. I didn’t really think so.
Heard at Perry Street Poetry Night Jacob: Why is self destruction so damn hot? Christa: Self destruction is hot because healing is beautiful.
Men to you like liquor. Leaving you dizzy. Times you forget. The guttural hack of Regurgitating boys. Tired of it. But addiction You can’t live without it. Morning full of mirrors But you still read the obits to see if you died last night. May I give you some advice? Covet sustenance. The things that keep you The sun That moves you through the day. Orange juice Makes a great screwdriver.
Art. A craft is something we can hone. But art is uncontrollable. Art is life. You are a masterpiece of a man. We all are. Art is the human condition. What people call art is just a reflection of true art. True art is us.
Something My Father Taught Me. You walk on hot coals Until you don’t sweat it. And then you burn.
Make good choices. You can spend your time However you want. For as long as it lasts. You can do whatever you want. It would be awesome If you wanted to love you. Make good choices.