Posting very late into the night again. Eee. Please, enjoy my poems.
I Wrote 10 Poems in 20 Minutes (12:55)
My dog cried because he knew there was something he
Was supposed to do. And he couldn’t.
He couldn’t make it up the stairs,
To where he sleep, rests.
So he stood at the bottom and cried.
And I couldn’t help.
So I listened and he cried and circled.
She arrived home from her trip.
A winded adventure in her eyes.
She said sit with me
So I can tell you all about it.
And I’m obliged to her house,
So I did.
And said nothing,
While she gave me her travels in pieces and bits.
And I listened and longed for the day
I could say, no,
I won’t hear this any longer.
I must face my father,
None to support
While he asks his questions
Makes his insinuations
And implies, sigh, what a disappointment.
Except he won’t be like his mother, no.
He’ll never say I’m a failure,
Just indicate with all his words,
That’s what I am.
That corner there looks good,
Looks the best
The one to hide in where no one can see me
Pull the covers over my head
To wait out the thunderstorm
Of voices and yells down stairs.
Change my face, so I’m no longer me.
And hide curled up where only my thoughts can hurt.
She said I’ll meet you there
But then never came or said
And on Monday, she forgot to mention
So I let it slip,
And thought less of her.
She became less of a person to me.
Less of her.
When I need to scream at the irony or the anger I hear at the dinner table
I imagine a pit, dark, dank, unending
And I scream into that.
I make believe it will hold my screams for me
When I have a chance to hate at the world.
I lost one of my favorite gloves
I love those grey gloves
The ones that don’t have fingers
I wore them often
They had a bit of me in the palms.
But I can’t find the other one,
So I won’t wear them at all.
If I can’t have it whole, I won’t use it
If I can’t have it all, then why bother.
That’s what I said to you,
When you said I could share you,
And I was wearing those gloves,
Standing under the silver maple tree
Not holding your hand
In my grey gloves when they were together.
I got a papercut on the receipt printed bill walking out of the dentists office.
I dropped my phone on my way to help a friend move.
I jammed my finger teaching my brother how to make an arc in basketball.
But I only remember the bad tidings when I’m already in that mood.
Don’t turn cold, please
I don’t want to buy people presents
Carol or sing
I want to go to the mountains
Live in a shack with handmade quilts from little old ladies
And put milk in my tea,
To forget what day it is.
He must be different
No on else is like him.
But he’s normal
He told me he is.
To fit in,
With football buddies,
And loping walks
With other boys who look like their fathers.
I’ve never really liked anyone who thought they were normal.
But I have to love a brother,
That normal one.