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Gets quiet

The moment

I interrupt his song

He’s been working on

For years

Or days

Lost sleep over

The arabesques and triplets

The dotted-eighths and coda couplets

-Silence-

Maybe he’s embarrassed

Maybe it’s not finished yet

I walked in on him

In deep rehearsal

Something so personal

A journey of his own

Self discovery

Melodically

And I

thump-thump-thump

Giant rhythmic distraction

Took him away from

The immediacy of his expression

His pavement flat

One-inch-tall symposium

His absolutely rapt

moment

of transcendentalism

My approach

Will still his tongue

My departure

and he starts up his song

Picking up where he left off

finishing after I’m completely gone


July 13, 2022



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Full, yes

All crescents round

shadows turned down

The dark sides extinguished

And if

there’s a man up there

He grins sheepishly

From the soft orange

tiger lily

-but diluted

Cream white of a peony

(pastel circus peanut)

(muted meringue cookie)

What I’m saying, my dear

Is your blood moon

-It bores me


Where’s the drip?

The slick

Rich

crimson of an organ

near black of a fresh spill

That tightens and squelches

Look! It’s

Receded behind a cloud

What now?

Do we draw breath in its vacancy?

Allow ourselves a reprieve

Is that it?

Or is it embarrassed?

Humble in its bloodlessness


I wanted the taste of metal

The real shock of it all

I wanted my goddamn heart strung up

Pulled through

-Lampooned!

Something for my lungs to cry out to

A reason to expand and contract

Too

But, alas...


The vampires gather

At the 24-hour diner

And werewolves line the soda shops

Nothing unusual tonight, they’ll say

adjusting their stakes and

Dabbing their lips

We were told of a wonder

A biannual

Celestial creature

But what we see there

-steady phosphorescence

Familiar in its listlessness

Is that borrowed mediocrity

neither fire nor heat


Turn your calendars to August

Your blood moon, it bores me


July 30, 2018



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Her name was Susan

Or is Susan

I’m not sure if she’s dead yet

Or still living

Her house

still standing

Her fence

painted silver every spring

a quiet old lady

Walked her aging dogs

Around the block

religiously

Rain or sleet

She didn’t care for the heat

She once told me

“I like the cold”

She said

“I get more housework done then”

What is it Susan?

Arranging the cases of Mountain Dew

That pile up on your patio

Or cleaning your window

The one I see you behind

Every time I walk anywhere

If you’re not outside

You’re always there

Planted

In front of the TV

Watching the world go by

Watching everyone else

Love and dance and die

The bright glow

Blues and greens

Susan hobbled sideways

And loved to say good morning

And keep eye contact while you walked by

imploring

a longer Conversation

She was lonely

And it was palpable

Did she marry?

Or has she always been single?

Widow?

I could only guess

Piece together her story

Truth is

SUSAN TERRIFIED ME

I saw myself in her

-Elderly

-Lonely

Watching a world go by

That’s left me years behind

Maybe all she needed

Was her dogs walked

And garden weeded

By any young man that would do it for her

Maybe she’s

A rich family somewhere

And wants nothing to do with them

Maybe she’s

spinster by intention

Her carpe diem

Never changes

Never sways

I avoided her

Phantom from the future

To remind me to make plans

Hoard friends

Get married as fast as you can

So you don’t end up like

Susan



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