if the shelves of hell are lined
with all the books
that should have been written
please know
there’s a big gaudy ass pink satiny lace volume
of poetry i didn’t write about you
sitting quietly in the
damn, but didn’t we have fun
section
just a man
drag off a cigarette smirk
a walking shell game
snake in a can
so backwards in life
one questions
reports of his death
yet
he would crookedly smile
calling it
legend
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Abelard and Heloise Americana astrolabe astronomy baseball writing beauty cemeteries chronology cinema civility coffee comfort dance death divinity fairy tales forensics fucking funerals iconography life literature local color love poetry mortuary science non-fiction punk relationships religion shooting stars Southern Gothic Urban Legends writing
memento mori
Categories
Juicy Rationalizations
Sugary justifications,
& candied white lies
once satisfied, however,
I no longer feel full
from such high calorie
low content diets.
It’s teeth gnashing truthy meats
I have in mind.
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activism Americana Art cemeteries childhood chronology crime death destruction digital photography epidemeology Europe family geneology history muse non-fiction religion reproductive rights rituals shooting stars society Southern Gothic The British Royal Crown theatre travel writing Urban Legends war weddings
Pocahontas
This morning’s coffee
tastes like resignation,
however,
I’m in the mood for redemption.
it was the moment
my body fell limp
6.5 years old carried
in my big brothers arms
during the final casket receiving line
when i realized
i would never kiss my father again
that was the moment
my sanity didn’t survive
if i could have anything back
any part of his essence
i would want
his laugh
as life without it has been
no life at all
Categories
the coffee scoop
It’s ordinary…
mundane, absolutely nothing special.
Part of a set that was purchased in the late 80’s
or early nineties would be my guess.
This brown, plastic 1/8 cup scoop
that came to symbolize our every morning
spent sharing coffee
no matter if we were 12 inches
or 1,200 miles apart. We always had coffee.
It is special because he sent it to me
in a care package when I was aching for him.
I still ache for him,
so it’s my coffee scoop until my dying day.