the shards that cuss
my feelings are all hurt
just like the old days
when the rain washed the beer away
and the motels still held their neon close
a rooftop to sit on
the ledge of your hope to lean off
a patch in a swear
a loaded answer
and the moon’s swell for now
just dashes and maroons
my luck’s a raise in the stakes
my harm’s lost in the drying paint
do not fend off what’s wrong with what’s never right
the lack’s what’s never missing for long
another yes to all no
wear a complacent smile while you still can
all of my thoughts are doing 99 years
in all the degrees of a mind’s slaughter
honeyed and husky howls
barnyard manners
I don’t want to be associated with my name anymore
fuckers
I am slurring through most evenings
I have given up mixers
I am headed for morocco
to be nothing
Sliced pickles through fear and good tidings
Trickles of kid-like tough
Erased from my permanent record
Eroded spandrels kissed into shape
Below empty gesturing’s cornice
Something penciled-in
A rot without a scent
Nothing to give off or back
Just an afternoon to wait through
To get over
While bad moods pile like dirty dishes
In the proverbial sink of my chances
Here
Heading blindly into oncoming traffic
Perhaps
Or another outbound day spent heading in
Icing’s gone
Nothing left here
But
The cake
Bless The Dead Here As The Rain Falls With The Last Drink's
Hammer
Nothing’s as it seems.
I am only me,
here.
That is all.
Nothing to be concerned
with. Something to trifle with,
maybe. Not
a blackbird ready to
attack. Not
something skyward
at all. That is all.
The buses go by.
Sky’s all blown to bits of gold and peachy orange.
The scene moves on with the leaves.
Life’s a mistake,
but a grand one.
Pay off the piano player.
We’ll escape with a little loot
at least.
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