A Death or Two

At the end of things, I suppose I was just relieved (maybe somewhat ecstatic) that it was finally over. You were the first girl I assigned the word “love” to, and I had watched as everything I “loved” about you disappeared, as if I were sitting on a front porch in the sleepy (read: comatose) southern Minnesota farm town where my father grew up, watching as every light on Main Street burnt out one by one without being replaced, watching as the bowling alley burnt for a second time (insurance fraud was suspected in both cases, but never proven) and Mr. Klingbile escaped with the money. At the end of things, I suppose I was desperate—more so even than old Klingbile—to get out and not look back.

On the Roman Empire

Think about a battlefield
eleven miles wide
think about the blood and horseshit
that soaks into the ground
and how fertile that plain will be the following year

The peasants will plant corn and barley
to share with one another

The following year
during harvest season
another battle will enrich more soil

I hope someone reminded the peasants
to wash their crops well.

Everything Makes Sense Right Before the Weekend

Everywhere and everything and everyone I’ve ever loved,
All race through my head, tripping on past memories.

Snow forts, ice tunnels, frozen lakes, and hockey skates.
There’s one from ice fishing and another spent camping under stars.
Or my first meteor shower at night with my father.

Him and I and Orion looked onward during a night that seemed like it would last forever.
And it did.

Because I still remember.

The days pass like onion rings,
Satisfying and tasty with a fast and furious exodus.
It's been hard to keep down any sort of feeling,
They just bleed and bleed and bleed and ble...

Happiness from my mouth, sadness strolling down my eyes.
Comfort is seen by a slouched back in chairs,
And agitation gets acted through the click and clack of type on keys.

Did you hear, my bathroom ceiling is aleaking
Flush goes upstairs, brace yourself for the downpour.
If going to the bathroom wasn’t uncomfortable enough,
Imagine getting dripped on by someone else’s urine.

It does make the bathroom more exciting.
Like the tension before D-Day, but don’t worry about the bodies
Because yours won’t be among them

Someone else will end up in your place.

So let’s talk happiness. Which is much more appropriate.
Happiness is snow on the ground or riding the crest of a breeze.
Smiling in its face and getting tickled by magnificent shapes.
Dare I speculate the seasons last fall?
If that is the case, then why, oh why am I writing this?

Secrets. Let’s talk mystery.
There are things that happen that cannot be told to friends.
Kisses beneath oak trees,
Murders performed cold blooded in streets,
Stealing from the family,
And holding on to suicide dreams.

If no one tells or thinks about them,
Who is to say if they ever even happened?

Let’s talk grieving.
Late nights and feelings.
Drunk dials at four o’clock in the morning.
Good thing no one’s around to receive them.
To miss someone is like breathing,
By the time it’s noticed through dreams and journal musings,
It can’t be stopped.

It just keeps on going.

Let’s talk shopping.
Packages slink in neat gift wrap,
A cashier who looks a lot like Steve Van Zandt,
Frantic masses huddling to see the new Gadzooks
Grand opening.
Where a table sits with free fresh coffee,
hot danish,
and a mountain of steam soaked bagels.

“Pass me that cruller and I’ll grant you my money!
Cause I worked hard for it and I,
I am buying your service!”

Let’s talk flipping.
Bowling alleys are a great place for their majesty
Buttons, noises, shoots, and plungers,
It sounds like something out of a sick sci-fi movie.
"Get those points! Hit that obstruction!
Flip before it goes down the C shoot,
that way you can get a gnarly fucking bonus!”

A Simpson’s quote is the only way to conclude this,
To show how I really feel
About bright lights blinking multi-balled madness…

“[television] destroyed more young minds than syphilis
and pinball
combined.”

I can be anything

Where does my mind wander?
Why does it go there?

Late.
At night.
Always at night.

When I can’t help but remember.
Because it gets cold, even under covers
And I feel alone.

I can be anything
for you
I think these thoughts.
I can be anything
to you
I come from naught.

Because I am alone

The taste of face and cheek and collarbone in the morning
were proof enough to believe in the twelve Olympian deities
of who…

We touched until the clocks struck eight,
when our alarms finally got off,
before we really woke up.

Now it's
Always like this. Late and a… al
Are you at home,
asleep and holding your cats close?

Maybe you’re dreaming
or next to a Caucasian European
(Russian, German, Polish, Hungarian)
not sleeping.

Latin. Spanish. French. Swahili.
I can sing the planet’s geography.

So lay down, breathe,
forget your brain, and listen
to the sound of another heartbeat racing
the thrusts into your body.

A World

In a world without god
flies gather on shit
and men and women love each other
purely.

In a world without god
the loneliest people find solace
in the fact that there are others
who are as lonely as they are.

In a world without god
there are people crying and children
who laugh purely at the amusement
that life itself provides.

In a world without god
the empty staff paper is filled
with notes of rejoice.

In a world without god
the future is bleak and the possibilities are endless.