welcome back tonight

welcome back tonight you sad and pale wolf moon

i thought we were through
pacing and sinking i wrestled you out
only to find you in my heart
why do you come wolf moon unmovable fool
you are a life sentence
when i got born you were there to receive me
when peace took a powder
both faces of the clock urge me to tell you
welcome back tonight you sad and pale wolf moon

will you stop my doubt

i’ll keep pushing you outside
let me lie alone by this brook of dwindling despair

Billie with her lamenting mouth around midnight noon
“I’ve got those Monday blues
Straight through Sunday blues”

welcome back tonight you sad and pale wolf moon

sitting on rooftops you toast your light

on my wild girl hair
with my fingers cramped pull up a comet
lay your silver fire on me

don’t hide away after our tasting
who fell into whose clutches
welcome back tonight you sad and pale wolf moon

rarity

little green cactus

kneeling in the sunlight

coffee soil all around

its white pot-bellied pot

heart calm palms dry

no dust storms in the lights

crooner serenades me

tells me about the days of wine and roses

that have left an unclear life

thoughts dawning

eyes drawn into a book shelf

toys pictures memories

rubbing elbows with Buk and the Bard

while the cats purr the moment away

still my heart calm

arteries stretching out like tiny arms

shut my eyes and wonder how

i can be happier

trilobite, us*

hey its me
standing here
watching pixelated faces lecture me
Mrs. K spits
as the psyche creaks
politicos burrow into the livers
the decorated soldier begs in vain
dog puke dog and starves to death
and any one rich man holds the Sun hostage

we’ve arrived
mutated as this
guilted to breathe it in
carefully engineered rhetorical prison
abandoned lots with broken earth
and wifi chambers force my heaving love to transfer through a tiny yellow ball
long gone by the days of my defense of common sense our bloods leak out of the pipelines

cut from this
mouth cannot afford to feed so we label it starvation chic Spring collection 2021
from a city where His houses are closed but the fuck joints spread eagle open
and instead of elevating our children to a sacred garden
your success plan exclusively gives us their early termination option involuntarily of course

beat into this
bleeding and punching at it punching at it punching at it for this
self sacrificing to it
choking like it
mutated
berated
humiliated
because of greed
used by it
raped and sodomized by it
sold down the sewer by it
indentured to it
turned stupid through it
sterilized  by it

the soul cauterized
hands plucked off
the tongue
the dust
the micro wave
broken fists bow to the 5G gods and all of the ROC’s men

somnambulant diagnosis reach for the
SSRI’s
SNRI’s
MAOI’s

we’ve voted into this desperate resignation
we’ll pay into the bottomless recession
that put together with our farthest most ancestors brought back from heaven cant help us from debt
commandments will be outlawed
turn in thy neighbor will be a passport to breathe one more 8 hour pain filled day
charity will be useless
schooling will be punished
the Statue of Liberty shall pawn her torch for three dollars
God particles will slice time wide open
the horned beasts will be the priests
because hell hath no fury like the secretary of state scorned

the new world order hid away Galileo’s brain
law will pass
nature will pass
we will pass
men on fire will eat men of eternal flames
those who are spared will be consumed by the madness of the NYSE silent bell
space stations will be the new sub stop
packed lemmings with visible dog tags
shooting off operation warp speed go go go to build castles in the clouds for them if there’s a future Florida

lord Silly Con forbids your show of common grace Queen Squad will soon order you off with my head simply because she can

*this offering was inspired by the prophetic genius of Bukowski’s Dinosauria, we

quilt my American confession

i have nothing left for tomorrow everything is almost gone inside of my head

i am overwhelmed overtaken

i am just one person

i am struggling with this quilt that i have stitched over an entire lifetime

my fabric squares each a segment and time a lesson a book a song a smile anything shiny anything dull

i stare at my quilt

today it looks tattered

i see a little blood stain

i see big pools of blood

in my eastern squares where a lot of intersectionality began

i see struggle little wrinkles threads pulled to the side giving way

old old cotton that has traversed the generations

to the west of my quilt i see trails like the topography maps

blood gold hard labor fires metal beasts

i see part of the world coming together

a tic tac toe board the X’s over the O’s over here

the powerful always on top drawing the line over whoever they feel like

tonight i’ve turned off the volume on my tv set

i click from channel to channel and in my head i make up stories

i make up narratives  and conversations for those people on the screen

those who are better than me

have spilled a lot of bleach a lot of indigo a lot of oil

a lot of grease a lot of dirt a lot of bills a lot of vomit a lot of shit

onto my quilt

i don’t know how i can keep myself warm or cold or hot

i don’t know how to press buttons day in and day out and wait to be told what to do

i have lost my needles in a haystack in the world ran by wires

i don’t know where i am most of the time

i try to hang on and i look at the trees and they have branches and leaves

i tried to examine how the leaf stem sticks to the tree

i try to articulate argue examine breakdown pull together any instinct

of how the tree and its leaves stay together

i don’t know anymore

when i look at butterflies or hummingbirds they look gray

when i look at the grass or the flowers they looks black

when i look at my hands or my face it looks red

when i look at my feet and my veins they look blue

when i pass through my doorway every night i’m alone

i feel like my quilt squares are falling to the floor

while doing the laundry i meet my neighbor

she’s covered i’m covered but we’re both naked

our quilts in our baskets all have the same snags the same wear and tear

i a professional i a quiet person she a mother she a beautiful hard worker

yet our quilts make us sisters

her quilt is jagged my quilt is jagged

we look at each other but we’re really detached

we are left there for all the civilizations to see

for all the viciousness to scratch at

and we look down and we say excuse me

after i take my quilt from the washer i bring it back home

it looks the same as i seek for solace looking at my corners of the ceiling

wondering when the cobwebs might come in again

it’s so dull with no life no little creatures to give me purpose

no little creatures to cup in my hand or cup in a cup

to put outside so that i can smell some kind of air

i returned to my tv screen and turned up the volume

and there are hundreds of different colors different words and different weapons

different levels of hatred and anger and selfishness

i look to see in a crowd

in the sea

wired humanity where the unpluggables are

where my tribe is not on any one side of an aisle

i will not be on any side for any style

i am who i am

i turn away and pick up my quilt with its little squares

i remember fondly when i was four and a fried chicken drumstick hit the bee and flower square

and left a permanent shortening mark

then i look up toward the middle of my quilt

a Bohemian style square i see where there was a cigarette mark left by an old boyfriend

on the other side of the quilt with the tasseled square with cuts in it where i hid my money when i was 12

to run away because life was too hard

little did i know what i know now

toward the left side of my quilt there’s a blue velvet square

in the middle bleach marks from days lost to Neil Y’s needles

then toward the top the darker squares with the solid bold yellow flowers

that’s where most of the cotton stuffing is

hand stitches coming apart exposing nothing

i think of my neighbor and how we both looked down

to me she’s my neighbor a woman

to me she is somebody she is a life

i look pass the cemetery skyline and i can see all of the headstones

flower vases peppering the hillside

those were people alive one time or the other

zigzagging in and out of my own life

i wonder what their smiles looked like

i wonder what their voice sounded like

abruptly my meditation cut by a police siren

another fight somewhere down the road

i draw myself back on the tv screen

orange men

white men

brown men

black men

pink men

red men

yellow men

all kinds of men

all kinds of women

everyone just as righteous as the other one

do they see me

do they see my neighbor

do they see her children

do they see her pets

do they see the babies in the neighborhood

do they hear their cries

do they see their daddies as they comeback midday because they lost their jobs

do they see their mommies trying to type on swipe screen buttons

asking for help to feed the family

do they see the old man

do they see the old woman

can they hear what they’ve experienced

what’s going on in Chattanooga

what’s going on in Beijing

what’s going on in Australia

what’s going on in Anaheim San Antonio New York or Canada

what’s going on in the Middle East

what’s going on i wonder

i stop as my voice cracks and quivers

when i lay down and close my eyes

i relish the knot in my throat the hot tears sliding down my eyes

as imperfect as i am as imperfect as i have been defined to be

by the powers who were and those to come

i can still see the humanity

and i can find hundreds of thousands just like me