Author: poetryfest

Born broken,
forced into braces,
they said I didn’t walk right.

I move too fast
for greedy fingers.

Tip toeing through the garden —
or was it through life?

One year,
two?

I lost count of
the sunsets.

Rising light filters through east windows.
I can’t help but think of

You.

Your fingers weren’t greedy
but I ran anyway.

Wet grass hits my feet
and I’m on my toes again.

The decision was not mine to make,
but I committed anyway.
Blistering heat cooked my senses.
It was my mistake.
(watching as night became day)
The sudden rush left me defenseless.

When night has fallen, we’ll find me at your step.
When the crackling fire has given way
(and the cooled embers lay) beneath me,
I will (I do) long to change the words I said into a secret I kept,
but that’s impossible. I can’t take back the things I say,
and your open wound (I created) is all too plain to see.

I beg you: Let me make it right!
But (like wind to a mountain)
I can’t make you budge.
The chance I deserve is the dimmest light,
the smallest stain,
a desperate lunge.

The fire I once knew to ignite your eyes for me
has given way to the blackest midnight chill
like summer days give way to autumn nights.

As a girl I wanted to be

A movie beauty queen

The star in a centerfold

From a pin up magazine

Down in the ditches

I was raised up so clean

But things I learned on the internet

So obscene

Some things I found out

I wish I never knew about

But, if you please

We can play cat and mouse

In a blissed out fantasy

Just between you and me

I got a feeling

Someone’s gonna bleed

In this hotel confessional

There’s no room for privacy

We’re so close

Skin to skin

Bedroom eyes and bloody knees

And if you confess your sins to me

I’ll show you just how much it means

I kissed a coffin
Disguised in skin
A grin stitched from promises
He never meant to keep

He entered like velvet
Dripping charm lik candlewax
Down my spine
I welcomed the burn

He fed me sugared glass
Called it devotion
I bled with tears in my eyes
And a smile

Now he lives in my sleep
As a shadow
As a phantom
In the shape of desire

Every mask anew
Peeling at the edges
Smelling faintly of him
Rot beneath roses

Lady Capital sings her lilting lullaby
softened by the low hum of the engine
and the light pollution in the parking lot off the highway.
Her arm straining to uphold white supremacy
Keeping a finger to her lips
Slowly methodically and
very effectively
pointing ours at each other and
weeding out the ones that
could be trouble.
Lady Capital gave me a bottle when I was nineteen and I
haven’t been able to put it down since.

I seek the gatekeeper.
Up in his kingdom of repenters having died too young from
diseases they couldn’t afford to have treated.
Clamoring over each other
Counting rosary beads in
frantic uneasy Spanish
uno dos tres
Uno, dos, tres.
I seek the man who
calms him with the
touch of his hand
who weeds out the unworthy
the man formerly known as Simon
the man who got the headrush
the man who became the bedrock of the place that
taught me nothing more than [crushing guilt and] a fear of sex
I seek the denier.
He comes to me,
brandishing his stigmata
his seasoned white flag,
and I

lay him out flat.
He was never on our side.
He’s been fucking the lady the entire time,
even when she was
just a girl.

Lucifer and God have
escaped their realms.
They loom about in
well lit parking lots
off of highways and they’ll
shoot the shit with you at your
local mechanics.
They cloak themselves well
but it’s sinister,
and you can see it in their eyes.
They sneak into hospital waiting rooms
They’re actually quite cordial with each other.
Every morning I wake up and my
crucifix is facing a different direction,
and my father coughs until he’s
hacked Them all out.
And they linger,
in your medicine chest,
the backseat of your car,
the space you’ve hollowed out behind the drywall.
Always cordial
always playing cat and mouse.
The wise are still building
churches,
temples,
traps.
The paranoid are having alternating
exorcisms and
seances in their living rooms.

My long descent is a
trek through fiberglass.
Barefoot,
scantily clad,
and I do feel joy for the
Catholic immigrant women.
The gatekeeper does not bruise,
nor does he lay a hand back,
and I have no interest in
inciting a mob.
I don’t have a list.
I have their names memorized.
I say to the women,

“Uno Para Ahora y once Para levar.”

Seeing as what’s happen to this land, I am deeply concerned. For as laws are being broken and no accountability is being taken. Innocents are being tarnished and I wonder how bad it can get. For what can I do to save us all as I am only but a humble man. I raise my hands and plead to God, that hopefully this too shall pass.

For Greeks, three stars aligned
Once represented manly glory —
Orion’s belt, sword dangling in time,
Bright lights in a blackened sky –
Suggesting my strong brothers.
One, committed anti-racist and
Devoted, ardent science fan,
The second, gardener and craftsman,
The third, enthusiast of solar power
And the great outdoors — all shine.

These I relate to others I admire:
Men, yet stars, who rediscovered
Old religions, and attempted
Healing of the races, and flew in
Outer space – as Joseph Campbell,
Investigator of ancient myths,
And Martin Luther King, who found
The mountaintop, and Neil Armstrong,
Astronaut, all did – effecting change and
Benefiting man. What kings of influence!

###

Down I lay
in soft spring grass,
pond beside me.

Cool breeze,
brushes my face,
wind from wings?

Clouds drift above,
dreams form,
eyes close.

Sparrow songs cease,
winds quiet,
cicadas give up their buzz.

Deeper I sink,
roots and worms,
beetles and ants.

No longer
can I feel
spring sun on skin.

Ancient scent,
fertile soil,
growls with life.

Moss merges with eyelids,
mushrooms sprout from scalp,
roots adorn ankles.

Soil muffles worms’ scrunch,
beetles click,
earth devours.

I spotted a Goldfinch, and looked in the book
A bird watcher guide you gave
Landing on the branch it sat
I swear it looked my way
I thought of you and wondered if
Your soul it might possess
Then a blue jay fluttered by
Preening her sapphire dress
And one by one some others joined
A Warbler, a sparrow, a crow
The merry band began to sing
A chorus they all seemed to know
Could it be reunion flock
Amidst this family tree
And you have called them gathering
Past ancestry?
My brooding heart hopes what I see
Is congregation true
To join this roost just one more time
To forage, float with you
Remembering migrations past
Me, fledgling in the nest
A blink and feathers fly away
I am completely blessed

I did not wish my home a graveyard,
but good intentions delivered an urn.

I place you on a shelf, Mother,
near your wedding portrait, a porcelain
Madonna, your mother’s rosary —
gold and blue crystal,
sent home from France during World War 1.

Having you here becomes comfortable.
Like all mothers of grown children,
you are largely ignored.

Where we come from is an island,
all amniotic sea and the pounding heart of surf.
I say I’ll scatter you there, but you remain
in my home. Kept close.