I Probably Shouldn't Have

Crashing crunch of tires skidding on loose dirt

And flying dust debris and jerk of rattling

Creaking broken pipe steaming

Were background to my mind screaming

When I saw your face slam against the dashboard.

As soon as my unconscious death-grip loosened

From the wheel I clutched your shoulders

And pulled your face into view. Your features are similar
But fresher than mine. Your cheeks are aflame and nose leaks blood,
But your eyes gleam life through bewilderment.

I am glad you are unharmed. I slumbered

At the wheel and car is bent smoking

But you are alive.

Unshaved bristled face cigarette between both lips

In fake silk bath robe and creaking rocking chair near sturdy walking stick he sat

Back and forth forward and backward trail of smoke rose from nostrils and lips

Chair creaked to tune of blueberry hill

But mind listened to beating of heart and rasping of throat

He scratched his face and grimaced because it’s not too long now

Back on bed he’ll soon be dead priest above

Bombarding hellfire speech

The blood seethes and boils why did you not give up that lewd that impure

Oh, thought he, I could have lived and loved

If this growth didn’t spread like warm yeast and flour rising bread

Clicking clacking heart against black bones

Tip tap my cane as creak crack back I stand

Back hurts groan escapes mouth

Ashes fall to floor

Click tap face slap—tired

But awake enough

Its just a trifle

A small thing

To go into the closet, behind the coats

Load and then press finger

I won’t even hear the click of the rifle

--------------

joyce helped with hellfire, one line is his

i dont mind smoking, do it myself time to time

he was probably just old and sad

Thought Comforts

Blunt stones and shattered glass of anxiety

That grind and crack will

And lacerate comforting plush of calm

Disembowel.

That brisk wind of rolling thoughts

That seamlessly translates into words

Soothing, smiles—

Emit word, laughter!—

Torn, confused, made introspect

With thoughts racing, breaking

Oh youdon’t thinkIdidn’t mean

Clashmisunderstand heat willshehe notheydont

Understand!

Dedalus epiphanied in confession box.

Perhaps if I realize that life flows, progresses;

Admit to myself that the past has just happened,

I can smile at any halts or recesses

And see conversation’s wonder:

When an idea comes to mind

And you say and I say

And thoughts connect and words roll

In a constant, present, unceasing flow.

I do not know confession box,

But when turbulent in mind

I like to walk to the source

Where the spring gurgles upwards

And present is present and the past has flown past.

again

Barebellied sweaty rednosed stumbler

In the next room over

Through the partition I hear

slobbering hcupn groan bel chstumbling

ihave to pretend I love you everyday

hcupglad we’re clearihate

and he shambles away

back to his den

where he sleeps and forgets

----

Shackles, shackles

Arguing a point I don’t believe

Inspiration falling like dry leaves

Cracking, crunching

Underfoot of indifferent passerby

Unmitigatedhatefrommydryeyes

Love, love

With burning passion

The cold chain that fastens

----

Infernal

Inside this feeling, fiery

Spurns me towards that

Not yet grasped

The undiscovered

Beautiful—already, to an extent

At hand—but further, deeper

All feelings

I need to feel fiery eternal