Saturday, October 25, 2014

2 Alaskan past-life regressions/dreams



bear, elk, several variety of fish
I am in the Alaskan wilderness
animal after animal rise
before my dream-eye
I feel their energy
primal, agitated
I am a greedy hunter, killer
I am reviled
given no honor

***
I am in the village
of Ketchikan
I wander the empty streets
the houses, in long straight rows
on the water
-- all empty
I am a spirit
somewhat malevolent, raw
and aggressive
I haunt
I am honored
I am feared

Thursday, October 9, 2014

New chapbook -- The Silver Mean

Hey Hey. My latest chapbook, The Silver Mean, is on sale at maverickduckpress.com.
It concerns itself with death and madness, wholeness and recovery...and the center that joins us all.
Check it out -- it is enjoyable and, dare I say, moving.

Richard

the way he says
cha-kras
the way he said
my mother had other lovers
when I was conceived
the way he said,
"Read Samuel Menashe;
he uses as few words
as necessary."
the way he drove to Cleveland
to visit me by way of the Adirondack's
the way I refused to see him
when he showed up
at the psychiatric hospital
the way we weave
our lives around
our stories around
our fractured
understanding
the way his e-mails
leave a dent in me
now that mine
are no longer
returned

Thursday, October 2, 2014

refugees, citizens

the story
translates
itself

from silence
to German
to working Spanish

the fly
on the wall
of their apartment
in Caracas

he brings home
the deep stink
of cheese
from their factory

his silence
like the first
dysentery,
endless

this drinking water
is a language
that is a disease
freedom
the elixir of life
mixed with a mini-galaxy
of microbes
and debilitating fever
and the smell of cheese
and the fly on the wall
in the circulating heat
of their small apartment
in Caracas

all the stuff you find in a jar of peanut butter

all the stuff
you find in a jar of peanut butter
in tap water
in McDonald's pink goo
rat hairs and worms
fluoride and germs
and chemicals to kill germs
and cyanide and sperm

all of that alien substance
how would I get along
without it
must write a poem
about it
go to the vacant lot
and shout it

makes me a better man
a human doing in a flesh can
a dandy in a pile of sand
a mudpie with two eyes
and two hands
a strange man
in an increasingly
toxic
land