Discounted Poetry

You and I are naked nerves in winter, Sheathless in electric storms. If someone carried a canoe Or if we knew a common tongue... We curl protecting our softest undersides. I do not believe you hide a weapon, But I'm often incorrect And I can't comprehend your speech. We're both a country's length from shores. Perhaps we're seeking warmth, A covered cove to pull up on After being flung from splintered moorings, Home. The lightning's over. The black rebounds victorious. I see walls of water, Nothing more. Your voice is underneath the roaring. - 2/27/26

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

You can skip the fancy appetizers You can pass the plate of canapés. Forgo the sour drinks; no one's the wiser. There's a pleasantness in the company. You've lived below the ground too long, Your sad and strange submersion. An open window can work wonders. Please stop your constant circling about the Persian. People wait and rooms appear And simple steps are all it takes To peel away the dour wallpaper. Can you smell the aphrodisiac fumes Just above your head right here, My friend? - 2/18/26

He flung the rope to me And pulled another through the rigging, Relishing the salty mist and seafood scents. He smiled like a patient father As I fumbled knots and stumbled over coils. He received this favor once, Once before when love had torn him open. Once an older man showed him the route Across the ocean, down southern coastlines To the island where men retreat to lick their wounds Until they find their feet and stand stronger. You learn to love the smell of heavy rot. You lose your shoes to yielding sand, The hot and soft embrace of being lost Aside a certain escape of sea. You scrape the wood into the roughest planks And lean them on each other for a temporary stay, A field of flimsy sheds About the beds of coconut tree leaves. There's hidden in the bushes past the shacks A stash of bottles, Medicine for sick and battered men . It takes a slab of shells from eaten crabs And countless days beneath the clearest blue Before you start to realize The tourists are residents now Up...

Today, The world's an open wound From severed legs, A broken glass of blood-red wine, A message on their phone You never should have left. You never should have left. This room, The bed, The injured couch, Are not your final destinations. Days unborn are yet gestating. There are mouths And there are lips, And some will smile bright, And some will scowl, And some will kiss And others will say no. For months or maybe years They'll sit in black and white. The days are just before you When the scarlet color blooms return. You never should have left. The chilly grey and blurred cascade Of faces breathing ghostly smoke In winter airs That burn within your chest Have not left you. One day You'll rise From bed and couch And tread The slivered glass That mines your floor And step outside Your latch-locked door And go. - 2/13/26

I left the car Out underneath the acid sun Between the road and bleach blonde sands. The miles press down heavy, But eased a bit with every shaky step. You pump the gas And pour the oil, Wipe the glass And vacuum every penny, wrapper, and hair tie. You empty everything To fill it past the brim and past Just like the unexpected sight of your beloved On cold and lonely winter nights, And yet, eventually you are putting in Too much for not enough. I can't afford another vehicle. I've found my footing. I am an excellent pedestrian. - 2/12/26

You poked until You cracked the speckled shell And pushed the brittle fragment Till it slanted and fell And you emerged Unfolding, Slick and raw and new. I pierced the earth And rose, Unbalanced and askew, Fresh and fumbling, Dangerous and new. - 2/11/26

The world is tilting. Close your eyes And still your breath  And you can feel The slightest wobble In its spin. My older friend no longer Leaves his house. He sits so still on top his rocking chair. He's growing restless, Somewhat spastic, With the daily news And looking at The rifle over the fireplace More often than he used to. "Something drastic," he mutters to himself, Forgetting I am there. After leaving the fluorescent room, She passed me in the hallway, Smiling and keeping tabs From out the corner of her narrow eyes, Quite obvious in expectation I'd engage. I used to water all the flowers Now I pour upon the ones which bloom. - 2/10/26

The lightning from the autumn storm Surprised us all From out our drunken slumber, Rattle and a cannon blast from heaven. It told me sharp as cracking ice in frozen night, I'm never an additional accessory. I am the revving motor engine, baby. The winter promises a blanketing. I'll wrap my skin and bones Into my afghans Conjured by my mother and her sister And delight in my own heat. You have a lovely tail. It's such a shame it always tattled. - 2/9/26

You swore that you opposed The illegal ones, The criminals, But now the whites are welcomed Into your open arms Across the border, Showing what we knew. You hated all the brown and black ones. It could have been my mother, son. It could have been anyone protesting On the street that day. I've always learned to push my say, To make the strong aware We're watching, Readying history. The future will come to bear upon you. Jonathan Ross, Raymundo Gutierrez, Little Ochoa -  The only Jesus Evangelicals love - Little boys with baby tempers. Little boys with guns. Little boys behind the masks And the war paint Anonymous Pretending to be strong As long as they're unknown, To be so macho When they're armed, As long as power's torn away their last restraint, As long as Papa Trump  Is saying it's okay. You may get away But you'll never get clear. We will remember. You shot the innocent Until the pavement drank their blood. The stained concrete will cry And throw it up i...

The shallow water Tiding on broken soil -  Something's settling. - 2/5/26

I fell. I stumbled from the white. I didn't even try to find my feet. The air was miles deep. I spread apart the grey, A curtain hanging From the crooked forest limbs. The darkest fellow watches Curious before, Behind. It might turn out a cat. It might just be a crow. I am not sure. Every burial is not a resurrection. Salvation will eventually No longer seek us out, Exhausted, Tired of we walkers of the soil. You are past my touch, My sight, But my mind won't let you go, My sin, My mortal end. - 2/4/25

It is three. The snow awoke me Tapping on my window Wanting in. I knew you wouldn't call. I'm not supposed to have your number. Silence climbs in bed beside me, Though it cannot keep me warm Or settle the quiet tempest in my chest With its chilly arms around it. I was dreaming of The miracle of bridges Flung across the waters, Hung from cables spun from steel And heavier than the Eiffel Tower. Near the top, You spy a glimpse, The curvature of the planet. - 2/3/26