seen from Argentina
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from Brazil
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Uruguay
seen from Russia
seen from Singapore
seen from Morocco
seen from Argentina
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from United States
We Don’t See Her
We don’t see her, you know We don’t walk her talk her Bake her in a pie We don’t grab at rocks Fill ‘em in our socks We don’t do these things
And if we did do these things It wouldn’t be to her It would never occur to her That the pain from us Came from us
The pilot is her, she claims What good is a swipe Or a jab, a grab and a stab That when we land this plane She signs her name
The Road Trip
I could drive through the night-- cover the distance from me to you. I could swill and sweat coffee I could scream love songs every one knows but I only half know and chip away mile markers-- each a scathing rebuttal to your “How the hell did we go wrong?”
And when dawn vomits streams of unyielding light, stabbing at your boarded up windows, your unfettered lawn your bashed in front door I’ll know at last. Finally. Thank god. That the answer wasn’t
just me.
One Day
I thought I’d be happy
when others finally
heard my voice.
Today I’m alone
and ecstactic
because I finally
heard myself.
The Adventures Tootles Missed
“Tootles excitedly fit the arrow to the bow. ‘Out of the way, Tink.’ He shouted, and then he fired, and Wendy fluttered to the ground with an arrow into her breast.” --Peter Pan, J.M. Barrie
I’m trying to put a bit of metal through every part that feels on my body. The nail in my foot, the aluminum splinter I tweezed out of my palm, the arrowhead that dulled itself on my sternum and a single button. This is the third avenue perfectville deciding the intent of destroying myself through pain or trying to live: My limited time offer mail-in rebate of tattoo confessionals and puncture holes. Sterilization, you are my hollow needle, my second scream of the day. Another nerve fucked with into calcium contraction. Calcium—can make your body hunch over and invert, can make you see that you are a body of salt like the ocean. Tonight you are having stainless steel. Tonight it is titanium, penetrating straight on till morning. What—I mean—to say—is: Did I miss this adventure again? Second. Always second. Course, that’ll get you nowhere. That right twinkle Which says hey, hey, it’s time to go home.
HD Perry #poetry360 (at Perry Henry D Middle School)
