Discounted Poetry

The hens were scratching for a change. I left the porch to find The rooster limp and sprawled. He crawled despite a hundred bites. He never once had strayed. You don't get a poem today. The weatherwoman promised rain. The sky collapsed to smears Of darkest gray debris. The breezes cleared it all away. The sun's a searing pain. You don't get a poem today. She neared to meet my bursting flame And lit and blazed against the heat, Yet crumbled fast just like  A fumbled finger tap above A cigarette ashtray. You don't get a poem today. - 2/26/26

The hum, The constant quiet whining Of efficient strip lighting, Hands unsteady, Cracked in driest air, The longest empty pauses Till the grey explodes And steals your everything within the sudden chaos, The evenings when you know The floor has dropped away, Although you cannot feel your fall. You only know you now have nothing Deep within your chest. You're moved outside the room To hospital hallways Smelling antiseptic Just like every hospital hallway. After the doctor tells you You pray as if it might Unsettle scales to balance, Knowing she will never make it. You see the morning Long ago, The fresh croissants and juice and coffee, Hazy sunlight barely bright enough For you and her on rumpled sheets To read voluptuous chunks of Shakespeare, Lyrics of a hungry love, And staring lost into her face, She everything, And this the world you want to live in, World you had eleven years You believed the dark collectors Wrenching her away Had taken what it would To cover your presumptions...

The foggy morning's a flirtatious veil You draw about mysteriously. Would I rather winter fell, An icing on your sweet desserts? I never see you clearly. I move the light to cut the night from you, A blade beneath the shoulder straps of lingerie. Alas, the shadows like my fingers Cling to you. They swallow you away. I breathe your scent, Pressed hyacinth, alcohol, And something animal. Fumes of perfume disrupt my vision, Sweet wine vapors stinging, Corrupting and delicious on my nose, my skin, My wet and burning eyes. The sultry humid air's The softest camera lens. Strawberry hair bobs in your face, The lace about your upper chest Above the swelling of your breasts, The dress that bends about your bare thighs Merely suggests your fleshy ass. You're pale as Artemis. I feel more than I see, Still unsure if you are real. - 2/24/26

My mantel-place is bare. No one displays the silver medals. Saturday refuses waking. I hike about inside my town. The sidewalks are a lifeless organism, A circulation system, Capillaries pushing through the urban neighborhoods And arteries encircling the city, Never leaving. Veins always return. At night The date's the same, A similar hair style, Different face. She likes my eyes, My wit and charm she cannot duplicate. Instead, she hints A whispered sex That hides desire To arise beside a breathing person Sunday For her church and football games. She aims for free and fun -  She doesn't read, she binges!  - But she's unable to disguise her needful doubt, The fear the calendars are quickly running out. I could be any man. The morning, I arise alone For coffee, bending, Hours leading to another hike, Another book I read to cover over desperate twinges I am staring over the edge, Another Monday five am alarm, Another week awaiting an end. - 2/23/26

The hours leading here were clumsy children Falling down the stairs, These seconds, spiderwebbing. I'm aware The world is leaking. I can see you see it. You and I, They've taken nearly everything From out our hands. We're starving, parched. We never had too much. The moon is coating you A paleness silver blue. Your naked shoulder Is a sacred hill, Your mouth A blessed fountain. I'm aware The world is sinking. I can feel you feel it. Tonight At least, Let's make our tent And swallow down our fill Before the police morning Breaks. - 2/20/26

Please select correctly. You think the tilt-o-whirl A slowing creature, But you're simply acclimated To the rush. The trick is to unfocus And relax your eyes. The ghostly patterns in the blur That smear the neon air Reveal the objects in a minute. Even at your age, One door will always hide a tiger. And the other? Please select with utmost care. - 2/19/26