Backyard Tercet 09/01/2021

Rotund sweetness of slyly spent day

A million chirps bevy into preening billows 

So much ripeness, I blossom at the seems 

Poem 08/15/2021

Rudder Song 

Stepping out the under-well, 

square inclinations nearly nabbed

me, back under the pearly abattoir. 

I pivot to find a stranger to startle,

but my own rabbit heart keep's flaying

the jitterbug and anywhoo it's hot.

I unpack a whistle to sizzle and

pick up a trot, a stench lashes

up against my plague, is the

gunk in my veins conspiring

to clot? Only my body knows

and we aren't speaking. 

   

Banishing Spell: Poem 08/11/2021

Numb Dismissal 

I do not have the pride to absolve myself,

nor the morality to forgive you. Lastly, I would

never wish on so submissive a star. 

Narrow as the path to god,

you stumble upon boorish thicketts, bloated 

atop humility parading into clueless congress. 

Laughable to think, 

some call me paranoid. 

Imagine a Dead Canary In a Hardhat: Poem 08/10/2021

Canary Death Shuffle 

A crank starts the film, bypassing the mortar

with vermin hardened into hooks.

I was called again today by the silver

embedded in my heart - pearled the yellow

on my teeth and I misplaced my harp

beneath bramble looking for a toke.

Cricket kerfuffle reminds me to shave tomorrow. 

Atop the town square I drum my gut hollow. 

 

Stressball: Poem 07/24/2021

Older poem written on the 24, during a friendly but anxious live stream.  

Worry Prophet I 

A constant plague, elusive signals of decay

pester in my lungs. I can't stop prancing to 

prattling chains, singing soliiques to my shackles. 

Something is wong, or about to be, oh

my future readers I longed to make 

a coliseum before the tolling of my bell. 

Ashen lipped, I'll publish in hell. 

  

RIP Joey Jordison: Poem 07/27/2021

Ice Blood 

Makeshift prairie mausoleum, 

venom of the long-hairs taints rain, 

skin on the students colliding &

rehearsing sloughs to the astroturf. 

Clouds darken the cafeteria. 

Electric guitar licks, mimiks 

the slaughterhouses, perpetual 

exaltation of victimhood. Mid

west cracks summer's egg against 

the forehead of the residential areas. 

Mulch melts into the back of my throat. 

I begin to shovel dirt on the bodies. 

Groggy: Poem 07/21/2021

Pillow Nothings 

Bristling against the big sleep, miffed,

afternoon looms tidal, shadowing prior evening,

yonder engagement driftwood found shore. 

After sweating the lurch I huff visions

more readily, lips numb from spanking teeth, 

engraving maps of Patmos, elevated trains

wind one ear and ring the other. 

Grimase cluster along the lake shore, 

I found a library here, nooks galore, 

I remain the only worm in a nest of burrows. 

Spirit Tour: Poem 07/17/2021

Automatic Fragment 

First after waking I shorten my fuse,

fibers taut between my dentures, 

I've got nothing to lose but my temper. 

I host soulless walking tours, pointing

"here precisely is where the city made 

me bitter, I used to have a parchment,

now I have tender, I keep having visions

of blood, ink and spendor..."

Another Tall Poem 07/16/2021

Poem culled from lines scrawled at work; while the top of the building was entangled in clouds. 

I Blame You For Assuming I Control Weather  

Void varnishes the windows - nimbus 

behemoth impregnated, impenetrable 

clam womb of the prairie bay.

A family of public worship licks after

salt in the glass. I feel your absence &

wish to outlive you, memorialize you. 

Mast happy, tempestuous temptations 

render the compass cattywampus. 

I guide the needle, imperial homunculus. 

 

Luck: Poem 07/15/2021

Doom Portrait 

Vitriolic visions sunder the prairie state. 

Laceration harvest, the streets are stained

with southern fruit, 

peach encasing glucose venom, fur coated. 

Suits slip'n'slide to offices, I tinker with their

well being, toy sized

from my tower. I remain a reminder 

of the hellmouth, imploring the spectral

emperor 'round yonder

corner. Peepers blaze a cathedral flame,  

sweet teeth golden,  grand finale rain

clouds the back gullet. 

Let the legend read I died a trumpet.  

Puff: Poem 07/10/2021

Steamboat

I hurl a million watermelons into the roof 

of the skyscraper below. Fruit soothes limbs

bulbous busted across pavement.    

Seeds sprout eyes as the lake water bristles. 

I see a sliver moon, my parrot a harvest,

a cloud clothes the lamp causing the crimson

to vanish. Once under the L the bouquett 

thickens, mustard clouds bursts my bubble. 

My candle blinks around the flamingo corner.  

Scat: Poem 07/09/2021

Someone in the Reddit chat said I should write a poem about "toilet spiders". I was tickled enough to oblige. For my more uptight readers, it should be noted that Arthur Rimbaud (among other decadent poets past and present) employed scatalogical themes in their poems. 

Toilet Spiders  

From the shitter spiders emerge.

Aroma wafts from the mattress,

I've sweated my soul into it,

summer heat turns the stains

to smelling salts. I start to

stealthy scuttling, cat squawking,

Styx perfume beguiles the air. 

I laude the lidless militia, members

multi-wondrous, asses venomous,

fur coating their limbs dangle glucose

dollops. I wallow. Toilet spiders got

their vulgar throttle. 

Lips chapped we chat liberation. 

I'm already greener than March. 

Arachnids retreat. I beat late night

to the punch. I wake to eggs, webbing

a peculiar tongue pattern. Praises 

vileness made flesh, muse maker

unrepentant. 

Error 404: Poem Not Found

Pardon 

Note that black spot yonder? 

That be the end of summer. 

Beads: Poem 07/06/2021

Pausing for Beestings 

Pearls prance into the gutter. Mismatched,

clashing with watchtower's colorless heckles. 

Concrete crests, deified sand peruses 

my trek home. Pitiless comes the train. 

I mean no harm. Calluses copulate with charm. 

Thesaurus jungle flouries atop of the city. I garden. 

Gamer Fuel: Poem O7/05/2021

Clue

Hands cupped in Dickensian sex. Lumber jacks

life from the trees. I tilt my head to best capture 

abittor's pur. Each moment I wait for the bus

is an hour I could have spent flayed, 

photographing wounds and mailing them

to you. Thank your lucky stars Chicago

jigs to it's own drum, our trains stage

their own cues. Tremors gardens in

the form of skyscrapers: 

waves petrified by guilt.   

Zoo: Poem 07/04/2021

Gateway

Refractions on bald legs blur

my sense of propriety. We parked near

federal turf, swerved into libertine bramble, 

"I prefer self flagellation to limp

affirmation."

Perhaps I've placed the mirror too

close to the sun. Lo, how the morning

appears closer than harvest, I've

never split sides like this. 

Something has been lost.

Slappy: Poem 07/02/2021

Pinball Locust

Sandblast erupture blossoms harkens

bloodthirsty ponderings  distracting me

from shade cast by your skin. Fruit 

hulking behind each misstep. 

I harken to no bell. Oil seals

marked bricks. Coatmann's

partition harpoons the lampshade:

I shake debt the shame implicit 

in the coachman's whips,

alert in the graffiti on the pulpit,

obsidian. Wallow the quip,

harness the hiccups, ventriloquist

omnipotent.  

An Interesting Place: Poem 06/30/2021

Misplaced Train 

Constellations jostle in vertical commute. 

I'm toping this graphy with each mal lap

round, I love how it takes hours for rain

to hit the streets in the Loop. The needle

whorls round, giggling gallantly until 

the subway gates appear, ice against

darkened windows, the stars shuffling home. 

Heat Index: Poem 06/28/2021

Frozen Sweet Wagon 

Pendulous bemoning from the tuba. Hats off

to this, tempest parading between my front

door and the corner store. I shuttle without

regard for the color of the leaves, cocooned

in salient salts - summer fills the air with water,

fish meander out the backdoor gutter. Many

faceted, this remainder of the band, all brass

gravel and copper kettles, lollygagging tuba

tail minding the arrhythmia. Legion tune 

marmot mammoth, assimilation of the beholder. 

Nightly, I assemble the band, whistle fabled

teenage scream only calico rodents snatch.    

Lilly your ears, plug your wonton gapes with dirt -

come morning the band dissipates, leaving tuba sheared,

nude.  

Song 06/26/2021

Early Bird

Flopping across the city atop a giant flapjack.

Might as well be a lilly pad - I don't eat traversing

peaks such as these. 

Fur coating the lilly thickens. 

My skin leaks, pore clouds wafting past the last lit

windows. A stray peep

sends marmot pad caterwauling through foggy streets 

until my innards erupt pratfalls and grease. This

city's best days 

are saved for the folks who get trapped here. 

Checkers: Poem 06/27/2021

Had a solid first day of work. I didn't get to work at the top of the Tower, but everything else went swimmingly. 

Leaf Checkers 

Twined, heaving, I sniffle watching the four winged 

beast flail the whole yard long, appendages snapping, hulk 

posturing. Repeated reimaginings of your perceptions until 

sleep is hilariously distant. Not a tittle poetic about it. I'm 

raunchy as I am undersexed thusly I only strut when I pout. 

I let the balloon return to Apollo. I drink warm syrup

from a glass green bottle, a thousand stalks outside 

the van turn from green to copper, I bumble into bars

leaning humble, pretrofied bees serve as beads round

my throat so I don't choke when I write about you.    

Clean Spell: 06/24/2021

Banishing

My face forests, fiber wells into shafts,

I dream of murder and murmur while 

awake. My jaw swells from disuse. 

This room will never recover from me. 

Potshots falling limply, staining my shirt. 

Someone pulled the tarp over the public 

pool. At the bottom goggles, forgotten,

later remembered but the pool had moved 

on, back to the ocean where curiosity belongs. 

School of entropy and custody. Month wobegon. 

See what fish I'l be once I ingest all this filth,

clean my room every now and again. 

Towers: Poem 06/23/2021

First day on the new job, or rather orientation. Willis Tower is beautiful, and scuttling around the building filled me with a fearful joy. I attempted to put my feelings into the poem below: 

Empirical 

One morning I will wake and fear you,

already the nausea mutes disbelief. Prometheus 

would sweat and blush, feeling himself rise past 

Olympus. Zeus strikes the building a hundred

times per year. One nightmare about your majesty 

and counting.     

*******

My heart flickers ever onward,

mousey, I dream of you still,

Tower One. I dream in you.  

A Tercet: 06/22/2021

Forensic Tercet 

Forensics, wistful wonton gluttony

of a family never fully formed. Mortar

erodes under cascading calendars. 

Shortening of the Days: 06/21/2021

Post Solstace 

Summer's zenith hiccuped into oblivion. 

Wind twisted the light into fractals, I watched

the city rise from cardboard to concrete, a childish

backdrop explode into vintage reality, my wonder

too Christlike to notice. Map missing a compass. 

Eve Ditty: Poem 06/19/2021

Solstice Eve Song

Hollow point punctuation dethrones

the page. Academic acrobatics replace

the trampoline with syringes, junkies

built the pyramid. 

Whenever the cat gets scared 

I feel guilty. 

Not Another Fragment

Fragment

Removing my fingertips before leaving the house. 

Let no one know I've moved you, massaged your

heart back to health. Your fingernails sour my breath,

leftovers from resersials for this moment. 

 

Solstice Nears: Poem 06/18/2021

Offhand Context (Summer's Almost Plump)

Queer colors of a day near charitable. 

I'm as forgiving as the economy allows,

starry eyed enough to plant flags where my

love lies. 

Powder keg lungs, asphyxiate my bow, 

buckle my knees for the late night show. 

Tilt my crosshairs to May's alert populace, 

boy whipped,

butler to bride's maids, never the banquet.  

Thick Air: Poem 06/17/2021

Chicago Postcard, Midsummer 

An explosive detonates across the city, 

loud enough for me to hear it. Every 

summer Chicago flairs the sky, burning

flags above the towers and shy houses, 

smothering stars and declaring war. 

If crystal were pure I'd look

damned, newborn Eve swaddled,

logging the Styx. Summer has me trapped. 

Solstace, you can't coordinate fast enough. 

Without weeds, the gardener's life runs amok.  

Poem: 06/16/2021

Link Fragment

Hanging the mobile before the baby's been hatched,

aces, rockets, there's dust on the planets, rust in the

tin. Consonants pave continents, consequently bloodthirsty

conquest distorted by optimism - history for the forgiving. 

Why stagger when you can sit? 

Where? Poem 06/15/2021

Ladybug Chess 

Flyleaf refolded about the jacket. Spine 

creaks, enjament guides me to ellipses. 

There are books I write if you read. 

None as good as this one, permit me 

to sever your bookmark and bury it outback,

you lilly lauraute mid dew. I manage all

doubt, assign it roles about the stage, gait 

guiltily before powder slits, eyes peep

power garbed bandwidth. Steel water

wheel me, tug & lurch, borough me outback. 

Window/Yard: Poem 06/14/2021

Invisible Fence 

Whatever the reason, I'm out to pasture,

the beached sky above, I near bovine 

pleasure as the street stretches to a close. 

Spluttering bot lurches open, I tumble

guilt-a-whirl down my street and make

violent small talk with caricatures until

the dampness of the filter makes me gag. 

Lake water laps everything here. I sigh,

gothic melancholy wholly unintended. 

Why

am I

so tired?    

Summer, Dark: Poem 06/13/2021

No Lie 

Dayless, I refute summer while welcoming

the soggy nights, soaked in my own sick, 

sobbing "this is the life, I miss you all but

this is the life." Who knows what the

upstairs make of me. 

Kicker of it is, I'm having a hell of a time. 

Bejeweled: Poem 06/12/2021

Untitled Fragment 

Coronation - I feel the throne creak under

my girth. You will mark me by the trail of

makeup and honey, tears and shorn flowers. 

I keep shards of old love letters strung about

my neck, arching my back and turning

my ribcage into an engagement ring, 

filmed with dust. 

Moon Ditty: Poem 06/11/2021

Another nautical ditty, albeit a short one. 

The Moon Paid No Mind  

Tribute elasticity to summon the wizened 

tyrant. The cards fornicate openly now, astral

clarity hardly dim after waking. Rather the inverse,

waking life is distant as the tropics, though here 

the heat hurts so. Icebug come night, drift into

sleeping ships and rupture the gentle lovemaking

of the non-believers.  Soon this particular 

patch of ocean will never be silent, defined

by ruby tides until it lurches into quiet. 

Waiting to hear back from a job, spent the last 20 hours watching torture horror flicks, avoiding negative thoughts. 

Tyrant Hum 

Logistic hibernation nearly complete:

I juice suffering, swaddled rib crackingly

tight inside late morning, the sun persistent,

unemployment flaccid, loyalty malignant. 

Everything I engage in makes me sick - 

my pet tasks most of all. Keeps melancholia

at bay, the scripted suffering, celluloid carnage

keeps me sane as all round my dreams become

reality and my hope cloys to sour mist.  

Vermin: Poem Fragment 06/09/2021

Vermin Fragment 

I have the same eyes as before,

twice as many appendages and no job. 

I fright myself for many hours shadow

watching my digits on the wall. 

Another Complaining Poem 06/08/2021

Too Hot Lament 

Quagmire bullies the afternoon into soup. 

I can't inhale this blotchy air and smoke, I'll 

suffocate if this goes on! Selfish Apollo 

poxes the afflicted with his summer tax!

The frosted hearts deserve deep shade, 

wouldn't compassionate populists say?

I wouldn't know, squeaky wheels top 

ground gears, I appear a beached tadpole. 

Jove save me, the world becomes a waiting

room each year, chariot clattering hours 

upended. I need clammy, trancelike sleep,

impressionable murky cities beneath grey suns. 

The hotter the summer the harsher the hum.

I Heart Logan Square: Poem 06/07/2021

I Don't Have Hope, I Have Infrastructure 

Things are looking up, up, up,

up past the curvature of the building,

obsidian windows defying any deity

safe arrogance. 

Bable elevate me - it is my trade after all. 

One wish could domino, ambitions

crescendo, elastic and empathic once

more. A friend calls.

I recall what once was, tumble & collapse

among the daisies out back, list ways to

dismantle a bivouac.  Come up 10 short. 

I miss. 

I can't remember what. 

Swine on the Swing: Poem 06/06/2021

No Riddle 

Grifting childhood dreams, curdling feminine wiles

into pig slop I sell for a $5.95 by the freeway exit. 

I destroyed my innocence in exchange for eternal whimsy. 

Cavernous abattoir, lake swept and scraggle kempt,

I remove twigs from my innards and strike them into 

matches. In between black patches I catch snatches of 

wurms, oblong displays of equivocal divinity - 

I blaspheme. I see nothing save memories of my

beloved, syntax that once fell, not wurms, winged

swine or any other cryptid. No visions - only 

diction, cellophane transparently muting tactile

meaning - It's all in what's been lost, folks.  

 

Gaze: Poem 06/5/2021

Idol Observations 

Waiting on my bones to empty of marrow. 

Clockwatching, frame bolted with grass blades. 

Clouds flirt and I contort with green protrusions 

hoping the nimbo-fuckers burst into June sleet. 

Leering tyrant, head honcho with antlers

anchoring my body to Millennium park,

I pester the anthill with my hideous  

guffawing. Predatory preparation in 

perpetual coronation, delevated mantle.    

What I will upon this lawn yellows the blades,

sharpens the songs of the birds. Wind carries

the syllables, smothered, into the architecture.  

 

Two Poems: 06/04/2021

Welp 

Waterhole, obscured and famed, 

bucket lazing from the cantankerous chain, 

accept this runt as penance for my wishes. 

Untitled Afternoon Poem 

I married a church once, paraded about

on stilts with the father trumpeting 

Deep Purple until the walls tumbled

into billows of salt, then flung the steeple

though my sternum - I nearly married a church, 

but the steeple missed my heart, left me gaping,

heaving brimstone into my lungs.  

Foghorn: Poem 06/03/2021

Cricket Shanty 

Blistering outside. Nothing crisp in

bubbling bayou soup. I lay inside, starve

stovetop simmer, soul selling to keep

myself from leaving. I love these moltan

welts, moss topping abysmal screeching, ice

cream truck holds the blue flame of winter

beneath the haze. I cling to that

eerie cloying iceberg melody, deep in

the northern homescape, come winter

the bodies cease to smell. Why chew with

your mouth closed in a city stacked with desert?

Whoever I kiss falls back into mirth. 

Swing and a Miss: Poem 06/02/2021

Another day of applying for jobs and setting up interviews. In the midst of that bland chaos I managed the poem printed below:

Copycat

Wailing off into the sunset, 

"look ma, no reason for any of this,

just amoral bliss..." pockets yanked

into elephant ears, snickerdoodle 

nod I miss or forget it, no

single person exists save the target. 

I cross my fingers twixt their hairs & trigger 

golden applesauce across our history. 

Narrative, shrewd judge, thwacking upon scales - 

It's the folk's they don't pay, unincorporated 

pestilence gums the cogs, soiling the pyramid.

In the dark, fear lays strewn for the seizing. 

Incantation 06/01/2021

Shoot Me 

At the piano again. Legs agape, 

stadium bouquet a throw away from

the apartment gates. 

Wish nothing save oblivion. 

Love nothing save the ideal line. 

Ride none save levithan. 

Idle time lapsed in tide pools, 

The wind turns canine when I whistle. 

In childhood I traded my heart for a thistle. 

Beyond medallions our emblems 

emblazoned embody all deities 

without comprehension. 

Report 05/31/2021

Rainy day spent applying for jobs, writing, and listening to an audiobook. The result was the following report, prepared in verse for your inspection. 

Revival Jam 

I smell what died bowling up my throat,

but I can't identify it. Which way did the critter

crawl up, and when? Disicisions, diristions, 

sweetcake, my heartache, since we've been parted

my moral compass is hurtling while my labido is 

swollen all the while what's passed is wafting a parade. 

My internal organs have rendered the source

unidentifiable, but undeniably my own, gasping

and signaling me out for proclamations from

the goddamn feds, either pay my rent or get out!

I'm too busy attempting to dismantle the system

you swore to protect, in between laps of judgement. 

Quelled but never abated. Satisfied while ever frustrated. 

Repressed, I reek to make heaven like unto me.   

Wading for Gold: 05/30/2021

My sincere apologies for not writing. One of my best friends is moving to the city, and I am thrilled. We spent all of yesterday celebrating the cold Chicago summer and a long time dream slowly but firmly becoming a reality.  

Hidden Soup and Salad (For AH) 

If a prospector never finds gold they

demote to poet and their skin appears

green when seen underwater. 

Prospect for gold and never eat fruit: 

scurvy gifts poetry. Skin tints green once

exposed to water. You and I, we always

say the same thing twice because

we are near identical. Blighted different

but both heartless, ashen compassion

soaked in Christlike whipping of the

miserly. Pius in our crawlspace worship. 

I love you rainier than summer.  

Fowl Omen: Poem 05/28/2021

Grey Birds, Sky Likewise 

Perpetual chalk swaddles the city. 

During my smoke break I bore witness

to one pigeon using another as trampoline,

jumping atop and accordioning the fellow

bird into the pavement. 

What to make of this fowl omen? 

The rotund, sickly grounded animal,

mounted repeatedly, bulge ballooning 

eyes round enough to eat a child. 

Nineteen hours later I plopped back

into unemployment. Farewell to that mocking

museum beneath the Green Line, farwell fickle

loop, your pallor storms and Athenian libraries. 

I hope someone thought to chalk a halo 

about that blighted bird. 

Error 5/27/2021

Sorry for not posting a proper poem. 

Worthwhile Excuse 

Old friend came to visit,

cut into my heart - 

and my writing time. 

Dozy: Poem 05/25/2021

Yonder Dozy Vision 

Sunder steeds trample the steeples,

dodging crackling Jove bolts immolating

the remaining village green. 

Smolder, emblems of valor and virtue. 

Hierophants have need of the flames. 

Pius schools may be grateful our uncanniest 

soothsayings may not pass in time.    

Bells rung thus have soiled fragile wings 

of the forest mares, conjoined insects into 

centipedes, carnivorous bivouacs

housing million of enemies. 

Where once was a community, 

signals and principals, 

I see only little libraries, 

apolitical worms munching on crosshairs.  

Splash Zone: Poem 05/24/2021

Muggy day here in Chicago. Summer has finally found the backyard. 

Lazy River Turned Violent 

Reef between ship and shore, hours in the day

indifferent, bloated and yellow with well wishes. 

Thrash a while and the eels come, 

where once was silence only their song

cuts the waves. Still your limbs and 

listen to their feasting celebration,

free your lungs to sing poseidon's praises.  

Not every verse receives applause beneath the waves. 

Two Duds: Poems 05/23/2021

Quick Bop 

Upstream trudge, worry

rock in pocket singing about you. 

Slide guitar. 

Poem About a Rainstorm that Never Occurred 

Rain taunted me all day. 

Unhinged filibuster afternoon 

would have striped syrup from the plates, 

soiled the billfolds of aspiring, clueless kids

who pass their best years in places like

this. I'm all for the torrents and blithering

porridge - shower silverware upon our final

spring morning.   

Coin Flip: Poem 05/22/2021

Dreamy (but clammy) early Summer day. Worked and wrote, talked and smoked. 

As 

Below 

Perhaps I left the blender on indefinitely. Vortex 

purring in place of my heart. I unplugged so many

things after you left I must have forgot. 

Above  

Dismiss the deacons before the disciples.   

I swim here crosseyed, hours waiting for

translation from on high... I hum

the peasant children's favorite hymns while

they smolder, melodies I taught myself and thus

to them. Children: " 'I bathe while your schools 

burn' amen". Tomorrow they will build a statue of me. 

Kitten Peepers: Poem 05/21/2021

War on Summer Update: A mild day, though I have so far managed to keep out of the sun. This feels like a tease, a breezy reprieve before the sweltering sets in.

Isle of Farewells 

Every lighter I misplace is out to get me. 

A coalition aflame beneath my bed, or 

worse yet eying the books. I wake from

dreams where I find long gone objects,

allowing me to finally sleep. Lost pens always 

turn muckraker, armies of discarded marbles

sliding down my throat regularly. They are

turning my skin turquoise and at night 

cats' eyes glow and glance under my skin. 

I use the light to read up on men who

taunt their prey for weeks before killing.

I check the door, glowing eyes illuminate

my trot from bedclothes to door before

pouncing back behind the padded shield. 

The eyes under my skin are kitten peepers

compared to what's on my walls. Fear 

mongering myself so I don't long for people

giving me other things to bleed on about. 

Thirty Days Until Apollo's Solstice

I declare war on Summer. Apollo has scheduled the 2021's solstice for June 20th, leaving us thirty more lengthening days. So far, Chicago has done it's best to stave of the menace of Summer. I applaud May's short lived snow, the feisty rain early in the morning. However, lately Zeus has been slacking, letting the city and it's citizens bake. I implore the leviathans that dwell in lake michigan to swim and hunt in triangular/trapezoidal formations, as to better attract the attention of Zeus and other icy beings. In other Chicago news, I wrote this poem: 

Tiny Metal Kettle 

Whist relishing dream fruits I scribe Genesis 

on the back of my hand. My sweat runs jot 

& tittles rivers under my breath. I have hours of

casual cruelty to mull in sleep, limbs for golem 

empires maintaining catacombs under the city. 

Departing the apartment is an eternally

rewarding chore. I did not dress for internal 

storms this frigid. Spirits turn to steam 'round

these parts, trailing tales of murder while they

go, "read the walls first and last, someone

we all know fell through the cracks." 

Someone named the routes here after stages

of the grief cycle. 

I revel in how nippy shadows calm me here.

A Tad Late: Poems 05/19/2021

Needle Skip  

Hunted, calico 

comes the sunset. Twelve hours ago I woke

remembered you and wept. 

Untitled

Mortar flakes, gurgling paste

flooding the Loop, submerged flounder

pedals limp shoot betwixt lunar 

lagoons - I have seen and I am

EMPLORING TO TESTIFY,

I've enough coupons to take

every juror's family members to trial 

and still click ruby red shoes.  

It's the sun that chaps my lips so. 

Slice of...

Wedding Cake 

Hush and hark, blunderbuss, 

the quiz shows on. Who's this

puddle of bones you've married,

where are the kids,  did they find

that girl who was missing, what's in the 

fridge? Who killed that famous child 

in Colorado, would you rather have

a million pigeons or one sparrow? 

Honey, I miss three dead celebrities 

more than our marriage. 

 

Just A Quick Stroll: Public Access Poem 05/17/2021

A regular on my Reddit readings, EastcoastRabbit, contributed the phrase "anxiety deluxe," and I am most thankful. 

Afternoon Walk 

Opening my throat

with each cloud's silver 

lining. Anxiety deluxe,

predatory gait propelled

by timid bray. Alumni

transplant of the landlocked

bay, I'm baffled by the 

pesky green of the street signs. 

My best friend is yonder

radio, rides the bus with me,

takes up the entire seat, 

waits outside work patiently, 

scratching itches outside the pane,

hissing sparks and jazz come rain,

sleet or bullets, blue notes or hiccups, 

arachnid cunning in lexiconic pinball:

you paint the portrait and I'll flex the jigsaw.    

Epistle Poem 05/16/2021

This poem is for a specific person and a specific place.  Support your local art house. 

Silver Storm (Spell) 

I smoked my heart to ash,

cut it with weed and shipped it to you. 

Eggshells and grass, all that was left. 

***

Before my heart could be burnt 

it first had to be celluloid: 

personhood upholstery, 

tacking up our lives

with minimal loss of 

humanity. 

***

What we saw we all know

but few who still know me

care to remember 

or remember in jest, 

falsehoods, christ

in a jet I need to remember

the heat of a theater

in desert december. 

A froth from the beer,

the smoke from death's door

always begging for more,

friend have a smoke with me

film's got an hour or more... 

***

They smoked arteries  

to ash, and they are going

pave over my heart, buddy

pal, friend, only your eyes

and mine see how quick

comes an end....they are

going to pave over the

place where we met. 

***

I'm fine half the time

(though none ask anymore

not a soul but you)

half the time I belong

to ink and ink only,

phrases and tedium,

your lightning laugh dashes

cross the obsidian waves

to anchor me. Captain, 

where next? You clutch

the wheel, I'll light the crow's

nest, of my million friends your

one of the best. And you've seen

it, pearl leviathan, celluloid kraken, 

eternal life, your soul for a token, 

when treasure is hidden every

steamboat be toakin'. 

We have to paint the map first.  

***

I'm fine half the time

the other half I still

write. If your lost,

turn your eyes 

to the 16th arcana for light. 

(The film, about pirates, ends and I wake 

in a vast, red theater I don't remember. The 

horror of this strikes me and I hear a cool

voice say 'go back to sleep, the film is not 

over' no sooner than that I smell they are

still burning my celluloid heart above

in the booth.)

***

I smoked my heart to ash,

cut it with weed and shipped it to you. 

Smoke the eggshells and grass,

crack through the pavement and shoot.  

Library Spell

Spell for HW Library 

Top of the morning, wingspan guardians

of the Library! Rising uncharacteristically 

early, giving me time to nod hello before

I pass into whirlwind oblivion, 

bull sagging down an isle of teacups:

shattering morning stillness, sickness endures. 

Wide eyed wisdom minions, scrying me 

puff away in the rain, house me,

my words, my fellowship, forgive

me not yet stepping through your 

doors. Fear, pride, imperial demands,

the tax and wax of Chicago: all these

served to (mis)place our union. Soon, ark of arcs, 

I shall present my weary covenant. 

Fragment

Wrote this poem early in the afternoon with the intent to finish it this evening. While I fully plan to finish it, my day took several twists and turns that resulted in this fragment. We will see if this poem ever grows beyond this current status. 

Lamb Fragment 

Is the lamb the donkey, the stick, or the carrot? 

Frothing at the paste that holds each family together,

if god wont provide the apocalypse I'll use my pals to concoct

one. Is the lamb the donkey, the stick, or the carrot?

 

A Quick Poem On A Day Off: 05/13/2021

Clip Show 

So it has come to this?

I could turn this stanza

to an abacus, listing

past loves and testimonials,

but we've gnashed enough 

songs of loss and vitriol. 

When the buzzard lays with

pufferfish the intent of this

author has neglected you. 

Architecture unequivocally

rises above you petty characters,

this city I elected to eat me uses

these words for garnish. 

Once read I'm near comfortable.    

Funhouse: Poem 05/12/2021

Yesterday sizzled on the backburner all evening- a volume of Tristan Tzara poems came in the mail and brightened my mood. I think the book's arrival bled into today's poem, further inspired by running errands around this funhouse of a city. Also shout out to the most active editor of this blog, who has a birthday today. 

Notes on Shapes Comprising Chicago 

Dada aspirations, skeptical presummer

in Logan Square, not a victim in sight. 

Pleasantry met with hostility or honey

on pancakes, it all comes out premeditated

in hindsight, whatever the stakes. 

Has misery no allure in the totality of aesthetic 

grace? It is around the corner eternally,

omnipresent stalker, the maternal drain

devouring all offspring until the tattling

gurgle pricks everyone into dance and we

make a mast of the maypole and twine songs

into the sewers of entropy, ground to dreams &

fables. Echo around canyons and Platonic caves,

icebergs bobbing joyless whilst cutting smiles in vessels. 

Subterranean Highways: Poem 05/11/2021

Doldrum Ditty 

I miss all my old books,

and miscellaneous tethers,

certainly an object 

magical- but the missing

itself eclipses it. 

I levitate for hours

dropless fisherhook

stainless above contentment. 

When memory stirs unbidden

my loyal boat is shook. 

A behemoth belch from the deep:

the way your words clipped when

read aloud. I start back as the L,

shudders along its burrow.

Preen: Poem 05/10/2021

One more day until my midweekend. Feeling alright, if spread a little thin. Hoping to consolidate some projects over the time off. 

Voted out of the 27 Club 

Polishing my face ruddy - whistleblower.

Shrill preening about the octagon, 

wolfen savant composed entirely

of others' fears. Tiny-megaphone

englonging her voice across

the middle quadrants of the

republic, cut short by the 

triumph of the ambulance 

siren, luring rabid, pale

horses into the caned, 

feisty death of dog food, rebirth

forever in testament to man's best friend.

We feed death to the dogs for a fiddle

scribble or our souls.  

Sisterhood of the Meandering Prolix

Ended up writing a witchy poem on Mother's day. Remember to leave some broccoli out for Norman Bates tonight everyone. 

Green Flash of Lake Michigan 

Fields 'round the skate park fill with locusts. 

The girls and I watch summer sizzle each

night, lifted smokes to the air, rings on

our skin. Daisy chains,

Olympian protest against Ivy Leagues, 

Sisyphean, I mean, the light is lean

between the trees and I won't make

these ladies wait, not with 

bountiful hearts to break round

the empty lake, doves to scorn

and spinsterhood to embrace. 

But one last semester first. 

A pox upon our final yearbook. 

Immolation of all sisterhood,

familiars, even sex and love. 

A pox upon our final yearbook.

Midweek Poem: 05/08/2021

Untitled (golden ticket)

Held I time's reins I'd never speak to anyone. 

Simply memorize the world 

in lecherous despair. Amongst prudes, 

the lonesome voyer may once be king. Televised

trials of war criminals and torture murderers,

'longside every sex act imaginable, 

the populace lives second to Nero now - 

the squares lost. Provided you dressed

for the vanilla winds, stomach all the

ice cream you like. I'm plump with

earrings in, seeing the missing posters

flock to the phone poles. You long

to transcend the material plane, 

traverse Yesod, rook time and death?

Be lonesome in metropolis.  

Different Pigeons This Time: Public Access Poem 05/07/2021

Lateweek Monday 

Hearty bowl of pot, got me wired-

a good ol' Hoover boy, just like

my father. 

Listening to god pray I ignite

a jay and I say, "Pal, this old

dirty shit's alright,"

brush crumbs and ash into

a little bit of paper and 

count victim tallies of

famed murder's - the sort

journalists profile in paperback.

A real american son, queer

as an earned dollar bill. 

The eye on the pyramid

would smile upon thee 

if that were it's will. But some duck's

haven't even flown south yet,

i'm too far away to see them off,

so ride up by our old

place and sit where 

we used to. I got

pigeons year round here to tend to.  

Slasher: Public Access Poem 05/ 06/2021

Campfire Prologue (Three Flags for Summer)  

Star rippled over the tawny clouds. 

I had plans to go camping come June,

someone promised. Once the bodies

been showing up the trees have been

off limits. 

I cut the mouths out my kids books, 

stuck them to the roof of my room 

for stars. Spending hours in the garage

drinking, leering at yearbooks. I'll never go

lilypad leaping 

again, no Summer solstice lanterns 

lit aloft for this last call, just the 

sweatshirt tree stalking come firefall.

My mask cuts deep into sleeping lovers

epitomizing folklore.  

Hex: Public Access Poem 05/05/2021

Had another droll day, came home and wrote this hex and fretted about the apartment. While writing this poem I got some assistance and thoughtful feedback from some regulars, which greatly influenced the final draft. 

You'll Be Just Like Me 

Nostalgia drenched in foul bitterness,

wasteful malice rippling through  

each utterance: Patmos wind. Refracted 

recollections of amorous afternoons 

past do nothing for my luster thus. 

I quake, rope deep in the well pulled

taut, yanking myself up and froth through 

the epidermis, pooling in

your subterranean urges 

until after one worst day,

stoned and broke, no

lovers clamoring on

the telephone, we'll

be on equal footing

once more.   

Another Chicago Ditty

Chicago Has No Summer (and I Love It)

I haven't anything to complain about- 

nothing anyone is willing to fix. 

Fourth wheel on the shopping cart

pirouettes while wailing uncanny 

thirst and the cans

tumble on the minimum

effort employee. I blink

and the White Sox stadium

is right outside the train,

filling slowly with grey drizzle. 

Batwing maw to Midwest's

gothic furnace, the hospital

I arrived at was flanked by

a burnt husk house.  Cathedral 

arteryscape reel backward until pink

sky rips deepseablue.   

Poem 05/03/2021

Stormcloud Director

I trip myself into a blizzard

and pick apart the nastiest traits

of my entire cast, laundering

every grievance until they sob,

then I ask them to mop before 

leaving. Who. The Hell. Calls

me anymore? Loads of people,

at all hours, solicitors and I love

you but who makes time for 

idle chit chat when there are Idols

to make? It takes an hour to set up 

a punchline plus two hours to strike set. 

I play bingo with misery- forum 

place your bets, slip past the ushers,

those of you I still miss.

Clocking On: 05/02/2021

Came home and vented big clouds I balloon animal twisted into the following poem. 

Tentative Mouse 

I'm hungry, not by choice

this time. No chic purge

diet- just pure capitalism

punishing me, every instant

demanding I behave 

the exact opposite to my

inclenanations- resulting

destructive impulses

when released back into

the city. What if I etched

the name of every street

across my body in blotchy

lines? Tourists might come

just to see me then. Remember

kid, one day you'll not have 

the freedom of no one listening. 

Level With Me: Poem 05/01/2021

Busy day at work, followed by a serious writing session. If the product is serius or not is (naturally) in the mind of the beholder. 

Eye Level 

How's the installation 

atop your high horse, 

dress donated from the 

Emperor's tailor? 

Myself, I like the

muck down here,

crouching down by

the dumpster to light

up out of the wind. 

Swift penguin back

into the deck, drawn

next to hanged man

and ten swords, my

cup overfloweth, I'm 

not preoccupied with

lexicons so much as

thesaurus, omnipotent

flush of hearts, lines 

next to buttercups 

pressed untouched.   

Lucifer Bass: Poem 04/30/2021

Got a half day at work, so I napped nice and long. Woke refreshed and wrote this poem without expecting to. 

Memory, If Nowhere Else 

Smidge shy of dewy, I think of you

each morning and profane, trudge through

near summer swelter to work and

grin under my mask jackal wide. I get

paid to do this. Lucifer bass on the wall

flaps jingles, jangles on about Heaven

as if the old carp even remembers. 

I remember rock'n'roll. Theaters with

balconies and sex fusing with the silver

screen. I pledged never to forget so 

unstuck in time I write, more film 

than human, more literate than bedwetting. 

As Eve bit the fruit she felt

every flower wilt 

while she savoured bitterness. 

Rats: Public Access Poem 04/29/2018

A productive day, edited the entire blog with the help of a Reddit pal of mine. Read my poems at an online reading, than started broadcasting myself. The chat exploded with rats, demands for rat poems and ideas for rat exploits. I was thrilled to include the lovely and uncanny critters in the blog once again, as rats have always and will always be a motif in my writing. 

Rat Pack Sinatra Sewer Songs (Old Gotham Night Song) 

Ratarch VS the Beguiling Ratguin, 

boom bap fist slaps down North Side

L, you never hear the end of it. 

The rabbits just do yoga and 

watch. Oh this old rag? 

They still print it on bequest

of illiterates. Meanwhile

on the amber screen the clown

painting on the wall is in cahoots

with the clown ink in my skin, 

urging me to smile and never

sink below the atlantic, & never

let lovers into my basement. 

Put the Poem In the Basket: Public Access Poem 04/28/2021

I abandoned the 24 hour broadcast after only twelve and half hours. I had gotten slightly sick, and as I am beholden to none so far as the broadcasts are concerned, I canceled the event. But I was back at it again today - no days off. I had only two words written when I quit last night: "goodbye horses,"  a reference to the classic song. Using those words as a starting point I clacked out the poem below. 

Cue Lazarus 

Goodbye Horses. Tripping over

the red carpet all the way to Oz, 

tin heart roaring in Jack Ruby 

Vans, scattering crows swilling

emeralds drinking Red Bull -

all the while I'm crying over you.

Sputtering syllables must mean something 

if directed at someone. So I lasso the 

twisters with my tongue, crystallize

memories of us and sell them with

tin foil hats and anti-government

bumper stickers. Goodbye Horses, 

I'm crash landing next to you. Each time I get 

lit I miss us. Your aloofness gives me wings. 

The First Days of Summer (I hate It Already) [Second 24 Hour Poetry Broadcast Entry]

The 24 hour broadcast quickly turned into a broadcast from the Twilight Zone, downvotes, strange ambiance all round. Odd tripping and still fifteen hours left to go. The early lines of this poem were partly inspired by someone asking why I enjoyed poetry more than any other medium. The most honest answer is that literature chose me for better or for worse. But here are some other sketches to consider.   

Traversing Yesod 

Imperial intimacy. Tapping the mana of 

radio, waltzing in pentagons in step with

the saddest transmision imaginable. 

Could I provide for the next

American Family? I haven't 

recovered from the fact 

I have porcelain inside my skin, 

if I rupture I splinter from inside. 

It makes me fear my fingers.

Souls without bodies are

feathers on snow, ancestral

freedom: a limb sacrificed 

in this plateau is a hydra

upon the next cornucopia. Hark:

the stirring of UFO ink lakes

muddying the deserts of this nation. 

Where else is there silver dollar liberty

and red blooded conspiracy? 

Jim Sullivan, Christ on a UFO

smoko into eternity, without a trace

the bottle's barely a blip in the grand scheme.   

Second 24 Hour Foray: Part One (04/27/2021)

Decided to do another 24 hour poetry broadcast. Started at 1:17 PM. I was in a more sour mood than I preferred, and ended up snapping at someone in the broadcast for no reason. The Redditor asked that I write a "square" poem as penance. The following five lines are the result. 

The Sea Beckons, Kleos on Her Breath 

I'm used to meeting bullets come sunset.

I switch horses for meat and cabbage. I

use mirrors as confessions, confessionals

as subways and beaches for reading. Heat

and summer leave me wanting. Hail Eris. 

                    ******* (b-side fragment) 

Speak Eros and enter. Sip your teeth

like tea in dreams, you hung dry queens

and twinkish belly flop house deans. 

Peter Benchley Eats Shark Salad For Eternity

Finally made it to my wid-week-weekend, a three day vacation at that. My heart is set on doing another 24 hour broadcast tomorrow - it all depends on how early I wake up. Slow day in Poetryland. 

After The Wreck 

Lately my throat itches when I try to sleep. 

I've been told I look like an overdue chore -

a fine line to describe my lovemaking. 

This pestering acidic itch: could my lungs

be secreting it? My love of all things sly

and aesthetic is turning sociopathic, 

barbs protruding from tolerance

predatory phosphorescence   

smirking downward 

into solipsism

as if I know 

what that

means. 

When the waves chop like this my leg aches.   

Another Live Joint From Chicago: Public Access Poems 04/25/2021

An unexpectedly somber poem considering how generally pleasant my mood was while writing it. Still, the pedestrian life in Chicago is not to be scoffed at. I love this city, skyscrapers and grey souls, tips and moles. 

Loop Jaunt 

I misplaced all colors outside of lime,

the way wise men lived off only thyme 

while numbering the genders of god in

the wild terrains. I've got my moments. 

I tilt as train strains platform. 

The smoke this ride cut short

may have killed me, catching

a lift can save your life if you

live recklessly enough. I comb gnats

with my eyelashes, familiar

faces impossible in my craft:

I recognize the drunk in the Sox cap. 

Keeping away the secret society blues:

A paper bottle and a bike made of tin foil.  

Just Another Poem: 04/24/2021

Somewhat stressful day at work followed by some pleasant hours at home. I wrote the poem below during a series of slowplaced and sweet broadcasts over the interweb. 

Tell All Your Friends 

Time to kick out the jams, 

free gloomy Gus form

nursery cathedral, frock the 

priest until he strips while

the gargoyles ogle and play cards.

Kid, I've been pissed at you

for far too long, sour lines and

disemboweling songs, hallow

tapping on witches' gourd. I might

broom aside a few webs

(all's left of you), as I thump

my wagon up the drive, through

your gate and into a juke and a toke

before I even make time to write you again. 

Two Poems Written 04/23/2021

Meh

Not half faulty for a coin toss.

My beloved wasn't there (a plus)

I made a young stranger laugh

off cuff. 

Meanwhile, Miles Above the Freeway....

Not so much a church bell

but the sprouting of angel

wings, angle tails, combustive

trains. A civilian lollygags into

the middle lane, traffic

clots around him. Bodies

bubble red and a cat fiddles

'top a hot tuna roof. 

Leagues above, a luminarie 

observes and tuts: "Cripes!  

There's no point saving

a single soul now

begotten sons are dime a dozen!"

Nautical Botany Ditty: Public Access Poem 04/22/2021

Nautical botany ditty for you this chicago afternoon. RIP to all the goldfish that had to die so Miley Cyrus could create Her Dead Petz and ascend to Ziggy Stardust godform levels of cosmic influence.  

What's Kraken, Jimmy Buffett? 

Dandelion afternoon, useless

and multi wondrous. I weed my

liver of your sacraments - I need

my hull optimal for these penultimate

leagues. I mark my log with your

petals - a habit given to scurvy 

no fruit allotted by god will cure.

Polly, sand the bottle, prepare

our packet. X the map, dust

my jacket. Cast the bottle on

twilight tides, patch my eyes

against Federal Cheron, I will

not be taxed by styx or squid. 

Guffaws denote where my treasure's hid. 

RIP Casa Bonita: Public Access Poem 04/21/2021

I passed many starry eyed childhood afternoons at Casa Bonita, famed whimsy house of Colorado. I never lived in Colorado, but I had close family there, and we would go to Casa Bonita nearly every time we visited. Someone in my broadcast told me that the restaurant had filed for Bankruptcy. Do not go gentle into that good night, Casa Bonita. The people love you! How would South Park remain relevant without you? Capitalism devours another cherished offspring.    

Song for Casa Bonita of Denver 

Don't shutter your fuchsia doors,

Circus of the Rocky Mountains!   

As a child my uncle told me of

monsters chained in your basement -

I wholeheartedly believed him. 

How could I not? After all:

Freerange grizzly terrorizing diners,

men plunging from impossible heights

all while you ate? You kept the west alive. 

Don't let the lavender campfire outlaw kitsch

die out! 

On the bus, headphones busted, the man

repeats: "Everything ends. That's in the bible:

everything ends." 

Blaze It: Public Access Poem 04/20/2021

Terror and Heartbreak at 420,000 Feet

I sleep and gaze upon splattered

mess halls while I film you showering

bullets, planes gyre on the football 

field while you rinse my smell off your

nakedness. Drench the towel while I 

adjust my rifle, spliff cliff hanging from 

lips never to be kissed again by you or any 

god-forsaken sprite. 

Airborne on, I follow the stewardess

to rear of the cabin, back when smoking

was permitted among the clouds. I read her 

this poem, joke about napping. "If only

I could sleep on my feet while we flew." 

She arches her eyebrow, looking at you

passed out in the seat. "Over easy?

Or scrambled?" Diner slang for fidelity. 

"Sister," I sip, "I was never once sure." 

The captain alerts last call to her wife &

you stir.   

Sketch: Public Access Poem 04/19/2021

Had a bad day but a great broadcast. Spent so much time chatting and reading the tarot that I hardly had time to write. Even so, I present this small scrap for your inspection. 

Fragment 

Fresh out, left with a partially

lit bulb. Elevator peeping up

at the thirteenth floor. I've got

nowhere to go but work. Hex

upon the lips of all allies - 

pawn your king for a rook. 

 

A Poem Written A Few Nights Ago

Train Feather 

These periods where sleep sloughs into

gutters, evaporating while I centended with

recolations of prosceniums and false flags

from you. I don't feel literate until I'm on

the L, pricking against the dicks 

and shouldn't I clock in for this? I'm 

standing. What happens the first time

I need to knock off early? 

Sunny Side Up: Public Access Poem 04/17/2021

Had a good morning and a terrible afternoon. As I fixed drinks and cracked open oranges, the cover art for Supertramp's Breakfast in America floated into mind. In a dream I dwelt on the perfect kitsch of that album, while serving the most important meal of the day in the country's third largest city. When I got home my mood soured considerably. I was swamped with loathing for the whole business: food, literature, metropolis, racist cops killing with impunity. The result of that bitterness is the following poem. I felt much better after finishing, as is blissfully typical. Still, the poem can be read as what I imagine could be going through the waitresses' head on the cover of that oldie Supertramp record.  

Breakfast in America I

My teeth should be paste - 

I milk them like big pharma. 

Christ in hell what a Breakfast.

I kept engineering the slow

painful death of those around me,

forcing each sharp object I touched 

deep into every pair of eyes I met. 

Wanton thirst for misery so early; 

Chicago was always known for pulp. 

OzO: Public Access Poem 4/16/2021

Oswald Practices/Locker Room Talk  

Ozzy Oswald aims right for the feels. 

His shoulder lurches, one with the kickback. 

So she may wish - in textbook reality Ozzy

fails across the Depository after first shot.

Safety in numbers: no one saw. 

She reapplies her gait before

making tuna and crackers look 

dainty downstairs. Soon as she sees

Ruby it's all jockular liberal Masculinity,   

Ozzy hasn't the phallus for it. There must

be a third pronoun, putting

from 'top the grassy knoll. Wouldn't 

god plan if we laugh so often? Oswald

hears affirmation pot&pan slicing the din

in sports bars where the politicians make children

safer food handlers.