Sunday, November 26, 2017

chase scene

Here's a chase scene published recently in Dusie's Tuesday poem series, edited by rob mclennan.

Sunday, November 12, 2017


because i carry no hope
the moon smears itself
on the trees
like a dirty soda can
from another notebook
on the tip of my tongue
an old feeling’s dream
i hate that word, “dream”
its glassiness of water
in pictures and nothing
under but tomorrow
what a rip, knot in my back
snowballing again
to replace my heart
w/ an amazon headquarters
and more yuppies begging
the super-rich w/ hashtag
please come ruin our city
we promise to help you
tighten the cement
one isolated incident
after another
year one has begun
it is luxurious beyond luxurious
it fits in the overhead bin
it bites my arm off
and pulls me into the sewer
home of the employee-employer
i keep waking up here
i unroll my tongue
like a red carpet
for socialism
we discuss thirst
we discuss the pesticide
in the wheat
which blows us up
in service to the revolving door
all alone in the field
nothing goes
i watch the door struggle
to make it new
blood turns moon into rain
a movement of people
in the rust of waiting
walk out, mouths opening
like the hands of a clock
running away from each other