the certainty of your goodness

sleeves

snotted down blanket

chewed up counselor

bringing, wringing, bwrought. potatoes and stuff for samosas. a time machine. yourself. September nouns transition-word-ing into February nouns. if you count the poem in these syllables, something will happen

pause

clench

Stole two organ donor eyes to organize my disses. Now there’s no insight in-sight, diss-organized, Mrs.

me and I miss

two deep breaths (draft 4)

followed by the first real d e e  p   b     r        e             a                     t                                  h

pulling onto two pant-legs like the opposites of ripcords that will flexion the parachute you folded yourself,

but maybe not skillfully,

mostly through             browser tabs.

here’s to the creepy guys who square their hips towards the middle of rooms and bark about how the best defense is a good offense, for all the wrong reasons what they’re saying is true, and here’s to the trivial sounds that i hear in my head that bark about                                                                   , for all the wrong reasons what they’re saying is extremely fucking false. they say it’s:

ahh cake-trim astro-turf

emptyyah band-aid box

sort of knowing

dont worry – it will only last 250 milliseconds. you say that a fancy science book told you that. but ever since these apes started getting their kicks off of a screen – worse, off of reading ambling lines of provocative prose – fakery is the norm

Poetry challenge from MM: Delilah

Hey there, Delilah
What’re you like, perfect kitty?
I’m 200 miles away
But, cat, in pictures you look pretty
Yes, you do
Someday I swear I will meet you
I swear, it’s true
Hey there, Delilah
Someday you’ll also meet my kittens
We’re right here if you get lonely
If Maddie needs a kitty-sitter
Close your eyes
We’re just a ways, a brief car ride
We’re by your side
Meow, it’s what you do to me
Meow, it’s what you do to me
Meow, it’s what you do to me
Meow, it’s what you do to me
What you do to me
Hey there, Delilah
I know the squirrels are all outside
But just believe me, cat
Someday you’ll be free and run and glide
You’ll have it good
You’ll kill the rabbits in the woods
Like predators should
Hey there, Delilah
I’ve got so much left to say
If every simple song I wrote to you
Were original – well, uh oh, hey…
My words aren’t true
I plagiarized this song for you
I’m sorry dude
Oh, it’s what you do to me
Oh, it’s what you do to me
Oh, it’s what you do to me
Oh, it’s what you do to me