Dirt And Milk

I write poems in my bed

[dirtandmilk]

The Lord

The Lord was a dream I once had

Where I was higher than ever

And everyone I knew

Had their standard met

They raised their mugs

To a sleepy abyss

So eager to say,

“Mornin’!”

[dirtandmilk]

Savannah

I had looked up

And there you were

Rubbing her wedding rings together

And with your blasted, glassy eyes

You whispered to yourself,

“I’m so damn scared!”

[dirtandmilk]

The Porch

On warming Saturday mornings

I would sit on your porch

Looking over a complex of neighbors

Some carrying in their grocery bags

Some taking out their trash

A few walking their dogs

As, flying, some children pedal’d passed

Then, as time passed us still,

The sun turned its head to the moon

Showing the darkness of its back

With little holes of light

Peering through every starry crack

Like water-gleaming caves

Wind blowing through its tunnels

With a nipping-nose cold

From surely some alien place

Yet by then, my patience shortened

So I would inch closer to the door

But you always asked me to stay

With you, with them

And so then, as you told another story

I was finally beginning to warm up

[dirtandmilk]

Wintery Night

By the end of my time here

There will be pages and pages

Filled with quiet, meaningful words

Moments where I sat in the dark, resting

Watching a wintery December night

Falling speckled down in white, white, white

Listening to the heater blow, as I’m

Warming up to a thought or two

Observing an orange street light

Just down my blanket-laden lane

How am I here

Unless you nodded yes

You are the world, my friend

I know, yes, you’ve never left

[dirtandmilk]

Daydream

Maybe my dad rebelled for a cause to find

Maybe Ben just needs a dad to model after

Maybe mom, her mother proud

Matt, a different girlfriend than his mother

I scrubbed of this in a contemplative shower

[dirtandmilk]

Dottie

Dottie seemed to loosen up after Reider died

She let her shoulders down, just a little

I wonder if she made her mother proud

[dirtandmilk]

Poems

Poems are a writer’s dreams

At night: they come easy

At noon: reading

[dirtandmilk]

Pout

Life’s been hitting me pretty hard today

Lilly bashed my face in, and then we hugged it out

She makes my dick pout all the time

Then the whole ride home, I screamed out

“Jesus, it’s Christmas!”

It wasn’t, but God, I needed a break

My backpack was bursting, boiling over with books

My eye, an oozing shade of love

It seems I’ll see you as I’m headed down to the floor

[dirtandmilk]

Judgement

After his rounds to the youngest

My cousin Greg approached me next

It was time for my yearly connection

I almost rolled my eyes at the mission

I would remember his lean on the porch

His smile as he turned his head in shades

His Gucci belt, his designer jeans

Selling himself a brand for my eyes

I loved him, but I hated him too

I did not care what he thought of me

How could anyone be this way

Smile his way to the heart of the faml’y

He was acting for us

And putting on a compelling performance

Some of my family even clapped at times

But I was not them, or so I thought

Thinking I was seeing through him

But I was not

[dirtandmilk]

Church

Why is it

In my bed

before I go to church

I always exhale

Maybe I’m thinking too much

going out is easy

[dirtandmilk]

Calder

On Anita Avenue

I sat in your living room

Having morning coffee with your dad

Talking of a burdened man

Waiting for you

To take your shower

And play a song I knew nothing about

Because you were burdened too

As morning grew

The music became louder

My mind had looped his Martin croon

Taking me back to Amsterdam

It had proven

Calder held a certain power

A band I joined after knowing you

For I was a burdened too

[dirtandmilk]

Train Whistle

It’s no surprise to too many

That I get lost all the time

I repeat myself; stuttering, stumbling

I circle on a friendly tree

My grin extends at the irony; only that

Familiarity is a soft-porn hatred

That tweaks the stomach sour

And weakens my legs from walking

A sad whistle breathes in and sighs

Somewhere heard near my street

It is a train, groaning and grinding

Pulling tired wheels on an endless line

Chanting to my sleepy mind

Morning must be coming

Morning must be coming

Morning must be coming

[dirtandmilk]

Hollywood

Somewhere out in Hollywood

There is my neighbor

Who is posing in a shimmering dress

Each silver thread

Kissing back the flashing lenses

Holding close a man

Who is touching her open back

And in a whispering dialect

They smile to each other

“As you are, so am I.”

~

So wrapped up in sheets

The two were sent to bed

The reporters to the press

To show the people who they missed

Only through my neighbor’s glass

[dirtandmilk]

December

From my window

A squirrel runs across

The wooden backyard fence

From my window

The sky has turned

A deeper shade of red

From my window

The yellow sun touches

Homes that weave on corners

From my window

There can be seen

A larger world than mine

[dirtandmilk]

Exes

Aaron, Ben and I

Sat in silence for a time

But only after a time of talk

We bantered

Of women we once had met

“From one friend to another,”

Said the one in slacks

“I couldn’t be with her;

I lost all my respect.”

With so much desire

I pondered this

For weeks on end

Thinking of the middle child

Looking to his dad, his mother

Watching them grow apart

And from that point on

To the arrestingly present now

His life would be at odds

Longing just below the brow

What a silent time that was

[dirtandmilk]

Insecurity #1

Am I too late?

[dirtandmilk]

To Matt

You and I

Sat on the hill

Just by our porch

We were silent

As the setting sun

Turned the clouds pink

There was talk

From the neighbor’s house

Of a poisonous year

But for today

We sat in awe

Magenta filling in our acid tears