24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
if i allow you access to my all
then where would i go once you
have consumed me?
when you have eaten all the flesh off
of these muted bones
and sucked every ounce of breath
from these stagnant lungs?
who would i run to for air in the middle of the night?
who would sing me lullabyes while my head gently explodes?
if i allow you access to my all
then where would i go once you have consumed me?
Black Widow
Hey big boy…
Wanna have some fun?
I may eat you.
But maybe I won’t.
Like goin’ out on a limb?
You’re not chicken are you?
Come home to mamma.
Hit a home run.
Find out why I got my name
if you’ve got the nerve.
Maybe we’ll just hang.
Catch a few flies.
Or bring your computer,
spend some time on the web.
Life’s no fun without risk?
You could talk to my last sweetie
but he’s out of town for a while.
Don’t hang there like a sloth.
Come on over, I’ve got some stories to spin.
May I apprentice to—
master spider beings;
specialize in floating thread
alight on gentle breeze
keeping secret— webcraft,
tying dreams to heaven
turning death to hopefulness,
by perfect artistry.
Spidey in my closet
Where else can he be
Crawling into spaces
Creepy feeling creat
Whack him off the windowsil
That should do him good
Closets are for secrets
For spidey
Theres a corner
Sit there
Stare out
Weave your webs
Eight legs tangled
Wheres your head
Closet spidey
Whacked out
I just hope he’s not dead.
How could it be otherwise?
Tender of night
She rules the softer shadows
delicate as a luminaria
deepening calm and quiet
coaxing sighs and swoon
one is naturally horizontal
or wishing to be
when the moon gazes
when words come fewer
with still fewer needed
when eyes take over
the task of communicating
and lips surrender
to other use
Do me a favor
Get this bag of cash
To the bank for noon
And don’t tell anyone
Where they come from
Because you don’t know
Anyway
You know what I mean
Don’t you?
You’re my best guy
You know that
I told you
If you do well
You’ll get far
We’ve been talking
About you
With Edgar
He likes you very much
He‘s talking about a promotion
For you
You know I’m dead serious
Don’t you?
You’re like my bro
I told you
If you’re regular
I promise you
You will have a lot of cash
For your travels
That you love so much
Especially the last one
Of all
You know
What I mean
I am dead serious
Your last one
It will be the most beautiful
One
I am dead serious
But you’re not serious enough
I saw you laughing
With that young lady
I told you
You should not do that
It’s too dangerous
You don’t know what’s safe
When you mix business
And women
Business
And feelings
You must stay cold
And controlled
All the time
I am dead serious
Go to the bank
If you’re late
Or if you get
Into any trouble
I am dead serious
You will have big trouble
Don’t smile like that
I am dead serious
And Bang
You’re dead
I love you bro
I am dead serious
You’re dead
It’s so funny
In that bag
There was no money
It was just a test
To see what balls
You hold in your sack
No money in that bag
I am dead serious
And you’re dead
Not of laughter though
Clown bro
Do me a favor
Take that bag
To the bank
For noon
8/5/17 2:42pm
Wolf House
The summer before I moved to California I was running.
Found myself working on a ranch for a writer well known
for his book about Indians, titled from a name by the Sioux.
Dry, sandy, Arizona ranch nestled against red desert mountain
watching monsoon storms pour in across the tops of peaks.
Wild horses wandering through the terrain
tossing their heads and blinking glossy black eyes.
Each night I spoke softly to the spider above my bed
gave him a name meaning “wanderer”.
We had a silent agreement that when nightfall came I would find him
dancing in his wispy web.
Protecting my slumber
Corner dancer, shadow friend.
And he kept his promise.
Someone told me to be careful,
he was poisonous,
one bite would send me shrieking to the hospital
the closest one, two hours away;
But I had learned how to talk to dangerous things
how to form relationships with venom.
He taught me that what we fear can sometimes surprise us.
You move like a typing hand
that’s been removed from its appendage.
Each crafting leg steps
with the delicate dexterity of walking fingertips.
I imagine you along my spine,
cresting upon my distracted shoulder;
and without looking to find her,
I could mistake you for my lover’s touch,
for I am easily deceived by the webs you spin.
It is your predaceous composure that I admire most.
Laying traps that serve you well,
you do not mind the wait.
Patience suits you.
Connections are drawn by your filaments spun,
And throughout the treetops your tapestries are strung,
Collecting dewdrops that capture the sun,
Nature’s mandalas waiting for the insects to come.*
*Apologies for not resisting the rhyme 🙂
i don’t know how i got here
don’t know how i’ll get back home
this weight is just too heavy
i’ll soon be broken and alone
her funeral, not the place for this confession
but, if not here, then where, or when
i have to relieve myself of this furtive knowledge
before I become a monster, not her friend
god, kali, buddha, can any higher power hear me
please help me rid myself of this toxin
deep, dark secret that I cannot carry
tight-lipped, don’t think I’ll make it till the end
when she died, i swore complete allegiance
but now reality has set so far in
i’m sorry, eliza, i just can’t do it
i confess that she and i were more than friends
* Another Storymatic inspired poem.
Weave your trap
A work of art
Threads so fine
Improvised
Functional and fascinating
Almost invisible