The Riot Makes Wishes at 11:12

nose made love to knees
but it was all the same
the way you pronounced it

the red wax trickled
down your cheek bones
onto the cotton
stained and smothered
like children's faces
rubbed into piles of
rotten berries

"how do you think
jam is made?"

father says
as he zips his fly
and puts the button
back where it
should have been
always been

mother lynched the sheets
but rubbing out the scratches
was hard
even with all the matches
she used

sulfur caked into hair
so many wishless birthdays
dried icing
tracing out
the knife blade

we met
at the back of my fist
the smell of the tar
lining the bricks
manhole covers were
pillows
the man with the sun-stained
teeth
picked the dirt from his nose

"I touched brain"

he laughed
and slept
the smell of blood
in his fingernails
that he filed down
with business cards
and butcher's knives

fine lines
crossed by dirty
wet socks

the spraycan burst
paint flew
into eyes
smiles
teeth smeared
with lipstick
the old man's
elbows

I felt
aluminum
embedded in my
skin
red-tipped
sparkles in
fingerprints

so the cops
would never
trace me

red hands

boy played
his card games

solitaire

with
the aces
all lined-up

like men
wearing
blindfolds
sucking on
cigarettes
waiting for
the firing
squad

to show
them
what they've
been
missing out
on

"don't"

the son said to his father
tears streaming down his face
as he flapped the pillowcase open
it felt like home

he dropped the puppies in
tongues stuck out
teasing all the school children
on the playground
tied up the open end
tighter than any shoe
or fist

he elbowed the door open
afternoon sidled in
shook its jacket
and took a seat
next to the mass of pillowcase

"don't"

his boots led him out
sunlight over one shoulder
puppies over the other
he thought they felt like marshmallows

his son followed him
tripping over the color of autumn
reciting something that sounded
like a song
it was coughing

"don't"

they came to the river
with the colorless fish
swimming and constant movement
stars in orbit
in deep space without a bottom

he slung the pillowcase off
his back
homes and marshmallows
yip-yapping all at once

"don't"

he let go
hovering for a second
like a ball of ice floating up
into upside-down space

"don't"

his wife woke up somewhere
mid-kiss with another man

I Thought You Said "It's a Game of Chants"

I threw darts at the
blank pictures on the wall
while my uncle slept
his troubles away
in the arms of another
high school girl

I traced the exit wounds
with the conductor's wand
my brother's shoulder
where he would have been
shot
I led the orchestra
off-tempo
the clarinets whined

my parents watched the
radio
waiting for the song
to waltz and smile to
floorboards creaking
toes digging pits of brass
into igloos

but all they played was static
so they danced anyway

The Lotion is a Lie(!)

I went deaf in my
left ear
so I cursed at the widow
from upstairs
where she kept lost socks
and dirty towels

she sat in front of the wall
with the hole cut into it
and the glass taped over
a window that would have
been so easy to break
if these elbows just
forgot to bleed

but I entertained her
I told her my name
twice
and she still chose to
call me something else
a name that was hardly
a word
little more than a hammer
taken to a hangnail

I covered the clown window
with lined paper
highlighter marks all over
so that she could feel
the sun on her skin

just the way I did

Plastic Eggs Stain My Teeth

I poked at the heart
with an open umbrella
the old man's cane
surgery without ever
attending medical school
or watching tv

I picked my head up
and tried to read the digital
clock in the store window
but the half-bottle of aspirin
blocked the minutes
so I either had some time
or

I left him where he was
the rain had stopped
months ago
so I filled my pockets
with pennies and
sprinkled them among
the children with hungry
faces

I convinced their tummies
they were filled with chocolate
copper and brown mixed into
dirt
left a crunchy taste
like desert skin or
the tales wives lie about

and the size of their fingers
told me where they
hoped to find their next
meal

I Should Have Worn Cleats

I climbed on top
of the roof of my car
and stared into the windows
of the neighbors on holiday
even on a Tuesday

I saw the calendars
red X's
over the days that
hadn't happened yet
grey boxes lined with
blue paper and dolls
with buttons for eyes

I broke the window
and bought them a
welcome mat
a present for baby

I dug into the dog's food
steak and potatoes
processed into a plastic dish
served with the pride and care
of empty ketchup bottles

I invaded their pictures
stole away musical
instruments
in bags with holes in
the bottoms

I planted the water
and I read the name
on the mailbox
hit by the feeling
of shaking hands with my
grandfather
the war hero who had
never held a gun

and I left

Bagels and Tea for the Lactose Intolerant

I gave her my number
told her to call me back
so she shot an arrow
into my skin
telephone poles traced
around the barbed arrowhead

she cut her thumb
with a butter knife
my tears were laughing
while she jumped out
the first-story window
and watered the grass
with her veins

and a neighbor walking a dog
turned the the hose on
and drowned our lemon tree
until we didn't have
nearly enough sour to
match the bitter

so our burnt tongues
became a silent melody

Facial Hair Isn't Necessary (But It Gets the Girls)

I killed the man
with the heart-shaped badge
I kicked his muscles
spit on his bones
I sawed off his ears
and yelled into them

"what do you have
that I don't"

words of doubt and
reluctant grinding of teeth
biting of taste buds

I went home and
told my wife what I did
and all she did
was stare into the refrigerator
where she stored her emotions
hermetic
sloshing about in brine

she had four servings of regret
for dinner
which she vomited up
by morning
I helped myself to breakfast
trying to taste the spoon
more than the cereal

and I greased the wheels
on the chair
while I typed out a letter
with an address I forgot
I committed myself
to the lines in the street
just for a moment
to learn to forget

I left my
insides outside
where we picked
up the down
for these pillows
and sheets and I
would have
said otherwise
but your eyes
lied
to me
while your glasses
said everything
I needed to know
and you brought
your eyes
up to mine
to kiss away
the smile from
my face
and I turned
my head away
at the last
minute
five in
one of
your hours

I was fed up
with the
roommates
so I started
hiding their
things in the
nooks
and crannies
of the apartment

"What are
my condoms
doing
in this
carton of
eggs?"

I don't
think they
understand
my sense
of
humor.

he pointed out the window
and said "the ocean is out there"
over the roof-curled smog past the
changing streetlights past the
fog past the
couples breaking up past the
kids riding plastic trucks past the
students scribbling late homework past the
crayons and wax past the
screaming voices past the
whispers to no one past
last week past
light pollution past
the marine layer past
the horizon past
blue skies
the ocean is out there
he pointed out the window

a handful of stones

One of my micro-poems is featured over at a handful of stones today. Check them all out. I love how much can be said in a few short lines.

no problems
being just another
frivolity

she had another
boy to
share weekend
moments
with,
no doubt a
nice coat rack
of a human

while I am
just
Tuesday's sleeveless
jacket

He wiped the toothpaste
from his purple, wine-stained
lips
saying, "This smile is
all I have."

And the quarter shouted
quietly from its corner,
the smell of webs
tangled in Washington's
nose.

"If you can't stand
the heat,
stay out of the
kitchen"
the dead president
whispers to the
crumb-covered walls

Fuck that.

If I want to eat
my pancakes
while the kitchen is
halfway to Hell,
I will.

A delicious, syrupy
bonfire.

Everyday
after the click of the dead bolt
sliding into place
and the hum of the morning air

he passed by
the neighbor's cat,
basking in the window,
interrupting the utilitarian
window shades.

It was a black cat,
always staring into something else
and he wasn't sure which
he hated more,
the bad luck
or being ignored.

Great words from Becca

when we're
married (to
each other
or others)

let's not ever
feel
like we're
waiting
for something
to happen

that's not what
life
should be.

I shoved
a butter knife
into the back
of my skull.

The why
doesn't matter.
You still
found me
unattractive.

Pissface.

I dreamed
she spent the night
at my place

no sex
no scandalous mouths
or gaping libidos

just warm hearts
and curious fingers
on summer breeze waists

Age of In-No-Sense

"Are you very
much in
love
with her?"

"As much as a man
can
be."

"Do you think
then
there is a
limit?"

"To being in
love?
If
there is,
I haven't found
it!"

She glowed
with sympathy.
"Ah--it's
really
and truly
a romance?"

"The most
romantic
of
romances!"

It felt like
it should have
been
midnight

but it wasn't
even
eleven

So just
another hour
of waiting
for phone
calls

or
building up
courage
with no
effect

Known for cheesy lines,
the type of shit found in
greeting cards,
holidays filled with empty
laughs
Passed out infrequently
to the masses
of platonics,
tectonics
phonics,
candy for the little boys and girls
But no candy
when it mattered,
for the hypoglycemics
banging on locked
candy shops,
fists bunched up into
wrinkled spirals.

Gloom Cupboard

A couple of my poems were featured a few weeks back in issue #106 of Gloom Cupboard. Check them out along with all the other amazing poems.

I'm not
going to lie:
the lasagna
was good

but that still
doesn't
answer
the question of
"will you marry me"