Poems

Here I post poems

[haystackpancake]

Anyone else ever feel in terms of objects?

Like this conversation I had felt like a cold, azure, dense metal irregular polyhedron shaped like the mercedes Benz stadium but about the size of a football.

Very throwable too, satisfying to toss in the air, have it spin and land so that one of its dull points prods my hands, my body coiling down to catch its weight

[haystackpancake]

Fixing the sprinkler together

                                            We sat 

Together watching

                                  The sloshing

Back and forth

                          By silk moonlight

Drips from plastic pail 

               Held by infant engineer 

Then we became watched-drops

You and me, and the child

Now tears

         Streaming down

                 The grassy cheeks

                          Of our front lawn

And there was music

And I can still hear it

But it fades when i try to listen…

                       ….Those two notes

Where are they? 

Lost in the noise

[haystackpancake]

the Big Bend in River

has ox tail with back straps. Hooves huff, amputees.

Nah, flesh upturned filters, feeds fishies. Water wets whatever's left.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Rhythym stolen from Kevin Young's Rag Time.

[haystackpancake]

The jeering face was back this morning

Guttural barks, growling, horny, like the jeering face came back this morning. goosebumps flutter, hairs sent soaring by the jeering face came back this morning.

tore off my cellophane flesh, teeth sink into stained chicken breast through sheets unshaded eyes heat frozen, thawing, deer meat thighs

Wolf skinned grandma reads her a story like the jeering face came back this morning girl's ears cant handle all that gory, but your jeering face was back this morning.

sweat buffalo soaked and sitting up your belly full, not had enough cream skin yanked lips attempt a smile "fetch me a bowl for wing bone pile"

poultry a-chase, jackal snoring, like the jeering face I saw this morning feathers plucked and juices pouring turned your head and said good-morning.

[haystackpancake]

misty rind of busty limes tart and pucker, zesty kind, life's dripping nodes, showers burst rupturing silence of the forest- forest of swaying cranes, soot steeped sofa and concrete panes- but in the jungle of mans design ive got tree cum in my sinuses

Its been so long since I've had time to sit down and write.

[haystackpancake]

Driving at night but all the trees are snakes

Driving down the edge of town, trees lining the road, night above: a drop of glass shattered on the moon

tar river now calcified dry spillage on the grass trees of night sliver at sight of first shed tear of glass.

Branches become reptilian as scaley leaves are shed the forest now a molten mass of the intervining dead

You think your safe as passenger, confined to carmine crib? Just as soon, youre ripped into meaty mesh of snake.

The most nightmarish feature not venom, fangs, nor girth, but ever evolving nature concerted death and birth.

[haystackpancake]

Remembering Baptism.

Papillae of the room are satiated by the salty clicks of my neighbors keyboard. But still the setting growls. Growls, barks, guttural and horny, like the jeering face I remembered this morning. My soul projects as heat, excitation wards off the stillness all around me. Such a messy stillness. Stillness in his pharynx, demanding intake of air. The stillness of constant motion, stillness found, way deep down, in the bottom of a well. I'm feeling well myself, as we are all guilty of from time to time. You probably think we always are well, some space in need of filling, that substance is the soul, that humanity is the water bottle I wrestled for with vending machine (and lost). It's tempting, I know. 100% recycled bottle. Purified water. Minerals added to taste. Reminds me, the lord said season our speech with grace, though here taste refers to the word fuck. But anyway, I can't drink the water without compromised kiss of air. I told you once (not you of course) that glass half empty is just the same, that air counts too, it just takes more. I once sat there while you told me there's nothing magic about the water. Its municipal, shitty fish pee river fed crap, that locally owned Calloway Lake Superior, poured out for my soul. No. You didn't say that. That makes no sense. You said it was all display, performance, the real magic, faith, holy thing was inside me all along. Maybe he was...still is. But, convenience begets belief, and I'd rather not think about it.

[haystackpancake]

Desert Oyster

there's an Oyster there's an Oyster there's an Oyster there's an Oyster

in the Desert in the Desert all aLone in in the Desert

and he Smells like and he Smells like and he Sounds like and he Smells like

like an Ocean like an Ocean all aLone in in the Desert

but he's Bone dry but he's Bone dry there's an Oyster but he's Bone dry

Like an Ocean in the Desert there's an Oyster but he's Bone dry

and he Sounds like and he Sounds like and he Feels like and he Sounds like like he's Home now like he's Home now like an Ocean in the Desert

================================================

For Ryan, but not in the gay way.

Its supposed to be sung like that one song you sang about creation and whale bones.

I hate that I wrote a pretentiously shaped poem.

[haystackpancake]

Worm: a thing that exists

There's an astronomical aberration, unknowable is its name. So, for Irony's sake, say worm (not snake; we'll keep the imagery lame). This worm has an end, an inside and out, rippley skin and leathery snout. This worm is quite plump, but shrively too— which happens to rhyme with point of view. This worm consumes This worm gestates This worm emmits This worm pulsates

yet

The cruelest lesson we learn from worm comes from question most kind. 'Fyou're something like me ya'ask what she seeks, but wormy, my dear, is blind. x'( This poor omnipotent presence pitifully slithers through dirt— dirt of the mind, of space and of time —unbothered by ideas of worth.

So next time the the sidewalk is dry next time the coiled lay died turn to the worm, his palace of sky and all's left will be all right. alternative title, God is a worman

[haystackpancake]

alien abductions from YUM! Brands establishments

Searing bright circle of light now neon upon stared night. Astral glazed doughnut slice descends as denizens still bite.

From otherworldly orifice temptatious tractor beam (tasty as fried batter bits) faux bucket of KFC.

Customers start to stir from chow, in lapse of rashy disgust Searching now for slothful cow, "marbling means more dust."

Soon suitable man is volunteered, as lustful lethargy lifts. As he's taken before his year leaves parting glutenous gift.

"LET ME BE YOUR MARTYR, I COULD BE THE LAST" resounds down dining halls tartar ears soaked with Baja Blast™.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------I don't think people are cows for eating KFC, just how I felt after my mexican pizza lunch.

[haystackpancake]

Soupy Nursery Rhyme

Sometimes alone, pretend to know the feel of fitting in. That though my peg would fit the hole just grain of rice in steaming bowl (how sad then to be white!)

Poor solvent in solution so well homogenized occasional lone ion stays fixed in watered eyes.

But of course, I know the truth, Be ye broth or brine we're all together in can of soup chicken-noodle space-time.

-idk this one's kinda shitty, but I like-a-da soup

[haystackpancake]

Bright, boundless, translucent phallus pries into a sea. Through sheet of ice like auger needle Drilling blissful, fish full Depths of me

How I love the water To explore this salty warmth pouring, sloshing, pulling, tossing, careening by my touch

Fuzzy inferno in arctic night 'neath jealous sky, boy and sea Come to dying fire's light Drowned in fantasy

-what's the point of an anonymous blog if I can't shitpost with dildo poem.

[haystackpancake]

Songs of the River

We're all just eddies self perpetuating spirals, melodies in otherwise laminar flow of time. Spirals that developed skin, that learned how to kick, that carry the ocean with them, like drops sloshed in the dirt.

Spirals that when finished spinning, blow final breath across the water, continuing their song in yet another eddy.

-I stole the gif from wikipedia. Go learn about fluid dynamics.

[haystackpancake]

Happy Thoughts

The way pale lengths of leriope shudder in the wind. The quiet background hums lapping at my ears.

The proud way plants stick up: defiant protrusions of the ground.

The feeling of watery blue air drawn down nasal pharynx.

How communal people become in shared attempts to stay dry.

The awkward strums of guitar, huddled around trashcan-fire.

The simple idea this world has beauty, and that I may get to share that.

The sound of rain water in concrete gutter, like that quiet plastic fountain in dad's office.

How comfortable the side walk is outside the student library.

The sound of voices in the forest against hushed stories of the night.

The warmth of tea filled coffee mug I wrap my hands around.

That none of this will matter, my fear, mistakes, nor worry.

The copper greens and reds, of soaked creap myrtle bark.

The scarlet fruit and emerald prickly bits of holly.

How good it felt to be checked up on and invited out to lunch.

That I have friends who listened to me cry for 2 hours.

The way city lights peak through fog like Christmas bulbs beneath white fleece.

The way my chin fit into her neck as I melt into her hug.

The burnt sweat taste of cinnamon toast rice crispy treat.

That wee can make straight lines from curvature and chaos.

That lines we make are temporary mere Gestalt illusions.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^Been going through a depressive episode, did my best to write down some images and thoughts to get me off the wet sidewalk.

[haystackpancake]

Walking - Chen Kehua

once we moved in an age of ideas and signs debate's lexicon gouging at truth

we then entered a world of instruments and logic trudging through wastes beyond hypotheses and equations

before soaring into a universe of introspection and dream unfocussed consciousness like the 3000 layers of an onion of worlds-within worlds

these days, we walk in an age of replication and chatter this limited life forging away specially for the sake of futility

new dilemmas hatch from outdated language as fertile as ants nests

"love is universal but we are universally unable to love" light goes in straight lines but it also curves

time is delusion, space illusion no birth no death no filth no purity no increase no decline

must we go on walking whereverwards or will wherever come walking towards us?

-- Chen Kehua, translated by Simon Patton

one of my favorite poems

[haystackpancake]

Gifts of Lint

Return my plastic ring. Pretend cupcake proposal tasted just as sweet without the butter crème. 2 whole boxes Betty-Crocker kool-aid colored warmth.

Stringy drops of fabric storm from clouded aviator used to shield my eyes from tender sun stuck between your smile.

Vaguely cardiod equation you carved in red heart clay. Your knuckles grazed a piece of me. So why return the rock?

Sweat pant particulate Collects on organ gift; Your vestigial fuzz of thigh.

I watch you walk away, taught denim now unloaded, sags without the weight of a pocket full of trash.

-my bf and I broke up, poetry ensues

[haystackpancake]

Ground Beef

Poor Bessie, who had only turned her head to metallic shrieking

Poor Bessie when she hears squealing brakes and rubber beating tar

Poor Bessie, who ignores the wind-blown, wire-haired kid introducing himself at 72 mph

Bessie, who sleeps besides her own shit Bessie, who's life is defined by 300 yards of threaded steal and rebar

Good for Bessie, smart Bessie who saw the milkweed through the fence who's own hunger drove her to vehicular cow-slaughter