it's the eggs and hashbrowns
fillin' up our paper plates
and the root beer
which to germans tastes like
toothpaste

and the endless ribbons
and wrapping paper

it's creepy uncle nate
spying on his sweet
delicious niece

w

I welcome the water 

after the whiskey

my well-being is washing

down the waistline of winter

the war is wailing

but not in the west

here, we just wait.

I wake up and walk

and welcome

the white snow.

all these woes,

and all i can say is

whoa. we're

just wasting

away.

isn't it wonderful?

bed

Outside my bed
there is a cold dead winter,
gravity kneading its knuckles
crunching down the vertebrae;
there is a world of war and worry
cancer and clear cuts
millions of internet bloggers
and telemarketers,
tellin' you they know what it's
all about (maybe they do)

outside of these covers
there is a deflating world
hissing out the last of the helium,
the streets are whited out
and in all angles
there is an ever expansive
sanctuary of suffering
my bed is
my guardian,
my forgetfullness

hung

mind crumblin'
like coffee cake
mixin' whisky and pabst
and hormones
not
a
good
idea.

but bukowski
would have
wanted it
this
way

destruct
self.
no.
abort.

saturday morning

it's december 13th
day after my mother's birthday...
fuck.

it snowed this morning
but now it's rain
and my gutter is makinng this haunting sound
that sounds like stomach. washing machine.
the fish tank still putters
and the water in there is getting
pretty bad.
Poor fish.
Today, I think, I will not spend any money.
besides
one 8oz cup of black poison.
one dollar
from the cafe called sweet life
just a bunch of broke gals
workin for college or booze

I got the blues
cuz i spent all my money on booze
i should change the water
in my tank.

quiet, i'm drinking

My liver claws at my inner intestines
when the third glass of port wine
Falls from my bent hand
Get me the fuck out of this rib cage
He says
Drown me in mercury,
He says.
Donate me to that woman in the wheelchair
Who got smothered by the grate of that F-350
I’m not exactly at ease in here,
He says.
But, thank the devil
I have my headphones on
And I can’t hear him complaining.
It’s just a silent mumble
In my chest
Just a sparking flint
In my chest
Let me extinguish that flame
With a fourth and final glass
Of port

a necessity of mine

It is when I
Stop writing that
Things get hard.
I write
Because I have to
Because if I didn’t
I would be a wounded
Bird
Hobbling through
The city
On the sidewalk
Between the legs
Of people who
Could care less
About my words
And which way
I organize sentences
They would notice
My small black feathers
And be transported to a
Time when animals were
Worshipped
Held above the human
Head in totem polls
Representing the true
Spirit of humbleness
A crow will eat a berry off
The tree of knowledge
Today
And I will
Write.

is anyone home?

Knock knock knock
On the door to my liver
The alcohol asks
If I need a ride tonight
And I reply with a
Sloppy, wet, “yes,
I would love a ride,
Take me as far from
Here and there
As you possibly can.
But please, have me back
By sun-up.”

So the bottle goes head
Over heels
For my throat
Dripping down
The cave of my chest
Landing in a puddle
Of more alcohol
And a little
blood

love illness

Illness to me
Implies a weakness of the self
But a beautiful, submissive
Weakness
That says
Okay dear virus
Tie my hands to the bed
And take me over
Wear me out
With all your symptoms
Make me so sick this time
That when I crawl out of this tunnel
I will see the light with new hope
As if looking into the eyes of a freshly
Born baby

Make me so frail
And fragile
That even a whisper
Could tear my flesh

I’ve been scratched by the claws
Of sickness and survived
But
Love makes me feel anemic
I’m searching desperately
For a cure

fruit

I am eating an orange
On your back porch
With the
Shade covering
All but my feet
and white ankles.
I don’t bother thinking anymore,
I mostly eat oranges now
And maybe a banana,
When you are not watching.
But you asked me to think about
Us-and what I think we are
And I’m afraid that I have forgotten how
To play these label games.
I don’t understand
How there
Is still a question like that
Coming from your lips
What do I think we are?
Obviously
We are fools
Trying desperately to grab
The air
Between us

meant to be

There are six-and-a-half billion fish
And you are pursuing the right one.
All of the stars in this magical universe
Have aligned perfectly for you.
May you fall into each others’ arms
And die immediately

the weight of beer

Slow
Today
Especially today
The cloud of hangover
says shhh... sleep
Rest here
under the covers
Stay inside
today
You don't want
to get
stuck
in the storms
of sobriety

a nice flavor

Your tastebuds are your biggest enemy
for once they have tasted the sweet
recipe of love
they will not let anything
that is not love
enter your mouth
And if you have tasted
that foreign dish
once before, when you
were young and able
to feel
Then you better
find it again
because nothing else
can be swallowed
And we don't want to
starve to death
do we?