Public Poetry Project

I use to be able to cope with it before yours, now there’s no way. 

I remember my first, mangled, laying there on the cold morning, 

the last warmth escaping his mouth, misting the chilled air. 

His remaining eye stared at me accusingly while the ghost fled his body. 

I’m not sure what his problem was, we did all we could— nothing. 

By him I am no longer haunted, but I was— for a time. 

I remember my second, a man, forty-something, old before his time. 

He may have actually lived if he called us sooner— pride stood in the way. 

A gargoyle across the room, gasping for breath, then nothing. 

The woman he called first said he had been sick early that morning. 

We moved quickly as he collapsed, the moment the person became a body. 

I held a mask tightly to its face and squeezed the bag but his shell refused the air. 

I remember the nightmares he caused, waking breathless as he sucked his last drop of air. 

The rest are a blur to me, as if all the same call. Most of their faces lost to time. 

I guess I’ve been lucky; most vacated before I arrived leaving only their husk body. 

The man in the field, we knew he was gone as we pulled in the driveway. 

I’m amazed by how many people die in the morning

or punch-out on the job. All that work for nothing. 

The years left me calloused, I struggled to feel nothing. 

Your room a Frigidaire 

We sat vigil all night and morning, all night and morning, all night— mourning 

I regret not getting to your side sooner, not making the time. 

When I did get there you weren’t there, but you hadn’t gotten away. 

I did see you before you left, but you didn’t see anybody. 

Before yours it was so clear when the soul left the body. 

You fought for days, holding onto nothing. 

We stayed by your side, I hope you know that, but either way 

You weren’t alone. I can hear the slow hiss of the air 

oxygen wasted on lungs no longer caring. I still think of you all the time, 

I did just this morning. 

You were another one I watched leave in the morning 

I held your hand as you left and kissed your cooling body. 

It was finally time, your time. 

One moment there, then nothing. 

You were gone; I’m told, into the air. 

I guess you knew the way. 

I sit on your porch in the morning and enjoy the cool air.

We’ve lived in your old house for some time. Keeping it in the family was good for everybody.

We haven’t changed everything, but like you, your doves have gone away.

your hearing 

your light

faded

you Family Dog you

in corner

alone

smile fixed

smile fake

eyes white 

words understand 

wish

nod head

lie

why 

protect us

protect you

now

us you join 

again happy

why

have you

family whole

my exhausted forehead thumps

against oil-streaked glass

fogged breath hides the candy behind.

Coins fall hollowly into the unknown

buying me the right to choose,

choose your destiny. 

every night the same routine

the same machine

the same

countless forks

lead me to this place

returned to the same choice—

fat with child

or fat and happy

I love my kids, but

every parent’s qualification

being trapped makes them the monster

I would, if I didn’t have kids

I don’t and don’t anyway

something missing, not lost

all this for a her and them

them I haven’t

may never meet

fuck them I think

—or not

I push the buttons 

claim my prize

content to take the elevator

content—for now

Nothing great was ever 

without chances

to unlock our potential

curiosity.

Tomorrow you find

It matters what we become.

  Look but not miss today

live out imagination 

instead of memory

thankful for the experience. 

Heavy red eye falls                                                                        

mountains burn sun blood

Mother night lives                                                                                          

       black wings flow cold                                                                             hope not

Wolves hunt man                                                                                               wet tongue

             sharp teeth 

Stab–kill

eat, drink

woman      wife      mother    

            sleep

good day

                                                             What are you doing?

                                                             Stop that, you will get away—

                                                             and you can’t leave yet.

                                                             We’re not nearly done with you,

                                                             we will never let you go

I sit and I imagine the endless possibilities of what you’ve written.

We just listen to each other breathing,

pretending deafness,

veering through the hearts of the forgotten

memories returned it never had to borrow.

These pills don’t help

when my mind is sleeping

laughing, 

              staggering…

falling asleep 

and dreaming is what I love

Wake up, wake up

You idiot monkey

I swear

You’ll be sorry.

Slam, bam, boom goes the dynamite!

Slap, clap, , fap-fap, oh snap!

Click clack, rat-a-tat-tat. 

Zip, sip, snip, nip slip.

Clip-clop, tick-tock

Buzz, fuzz,

Glug glug, thud.

Ping-pong, sing-song, chin-chong just wrong.

Orange 

Grey eyes of gods   

fix me with apathy

I choke down ghosts 

             lives past   spewing from tailpipes

Bones ache for warm sheets

and whirring heater

with varying degrees of   hope

I’ll make it back.

Downcast eyes find a bedazzled bow,

not the woman wearing hijab

            is she as observant in the summer?

My smile isn’t returned.

How did we avoid each other 

before cell phones?

Not surprising, put unfortunately

useful to murder.

Gun.

Felony

names in database,

their history across the past.

Millions people

miss our system on the lam.

There are holes in necks,

child murders

after a gunman killed for home

which nightmare played out.

I'm currently a student at Boise State, and (as the blog name might suggest) I am taking a poetry class.

One of my assignments for the this semester was to participate in some sort of public poetry. This could have been one of many things and I had some pretty cool ideas, but most of what I came up with wasn't taking ownership of my work.

I figure the only way I can really grow as a poet (and a person) is to admit my vulnerability and put my work out there for others to not only see, but give me feedback.

Your honest criticism and critique is welcome. That being said, this is only my second semester, and I am an actual person so no need to be brutal. Everybody has to start somewhere.