From INVENTED THE HELICOPTER
Three new poems from my newest collection now available as a free PDF
POEM OF GRAND CONFUSION
I suppose I do.
I suppose I do not.
Toss this rug over the fence
& whack it with this bat.
The eye for self-protection
Often gets bloodshot & flighty.
The algorithm gets scrambled.
The eggs cracked & losing their whites.
A slime trail down Hickory Street
Though the question marks lead nowhere.
*
POEM WITH REVENGE ON THE MIND
I do have a taste for getting away
From myself, huh? Seven stained pants
Piled up to be a nightstand. A tub
Of cottage cheese deep in the gut.
One dog becomes twelve & the car
Breaks down & now resignation
Beckons a skateboard-dogsled idea
Which works for about eleven minutes
Till some idiot leaves a Corona bottle
In the middle of the road the dogs
Hop right over but not me, have not
Been able to ollie in years, so I disconnect
From the skateboard & reconnect
With the pavement. Ugh. Woof. Ow.
I remember when I was six years old.
I found a hill so tall I could not pedal up.
I pushed my bike to the marbled crest.
I flew down, feet stuck out like a wishbone
My bowl cut in the breeze. On the eighth
Time down, someone plopped a brick
In my path. At the time I blamed God
But now I blame Jake, & over the handlebars
I went, like the rubber chicken my first
Therapist threw against the window anytime
I turned dizzy. My head broke my fall
& I have not slept right since. Since then
All exhaustion & blur. The word nod marketed
For me. I am jamming harmonicas into tailpipes.
*
POEM FOR MY HATERS
Listen, dingus, I did not race all the way
Down here to not appreciate Australians.
One lives separated from saints
Yet still moves towards closure.
I do not dance on the pier with the travelers.
These flowers disregard memory.
The rudest people arrive at the estate
Sale dressed in tiaras, flammable heist.
A poem emerges at the barbecue.
Her name was Barbie, she sang acapella
About being most blame-worthy
Although she carried on smiling.
Not a blemish among the circus.
The oil tastes bitter, the keyboard sat
On the tabletop & she begin to story-tell.
An adventure beginning with sex in the Alps.
Her mess took precedent over
The celebratory communion at the hotel.
Across the street, a caravan blows by the cathedral.
Let it rain on the sorcerers illuminating
The brave plopped in this sticky landscape.
True raconteurs squash the bonafide ignoramuses.
*
Read the entire new collection, INVENTED THE HELICOPTER, as a free PDF at the link in my bio.