Thirteen Ways of Looking at My Past Employer
I
I was of two minds, now
Returned to one: You do not deserve
Anyone.
Thirteen Ways of Looking at My Past Employer Read More »
I
I was of two minds, now
Returned to one: You do not deserve
Anyone.
Thirteen Ways of Looking at My Past Employer Read More »
I was this many years old when I learned what an opus number
means, how chronological order is not always set by composers,
but by scholars, historians, and academics. And having looked
up the word, as I am wont to do, having taken the head-first swan
Opus Number Something – On Gratitude Read More »
Shall I tell you I am disabled?
That I no longer can fend for
myself? Or shall I tell you
I now write the poetry you
mocked me for because
it does not pay the bills?
Let’s set the record straight.
I do not claim to know what god
might be, nor do I entirely get gestalt.
The Gestalt of God (A Philosophical Draft) Read More »
I did not know what I would write this morning as the treeline
got etched in wisps of ivory blond—until I remembered
I did not get to properly grieve you. Not really, anyway. Sure,
I wrote you a poem. Sure, I teared up now and again, like I am
now when I think of everything you did and offered, but mostly,
selfishly, I miss your listening,
This One, Too, is for Traci Read More »
What would you rather hear? That six or seven
or twelve times or more I actually had ideation,
or that I walked away, instead, unharmed? That I
What You Would Rather Hear Read More »
It’s not that I shoulder a navy
pack on my disintegrating back.
It’s not that I have swallowed
the kind of pills that retch
even the rage out until
**Backpack Part II Read More »
Oh to be unconditionally loved when dead,
division dissolved by the peaceful inevitable.
Oh to the victory that made us one,
the blood of battle and repair
no longer questioned as worthwhile,
immune to “what if?” in its sad reality,
replaced by “what is” and “what was.”
*Lincoln from the Grave Read More »
I return to that Place of Peace,
and the wisdom of ancient things,
the one that reintroduced itself
The Wisdom of Ancient Things Read More »
See, you were the only Black kid in the whole damn school,
and the teacher had to split us up because of how hard
we laughed together.