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
Category: humor
Categories
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Ha!! Me, too…
Categories
shock jock
there are times
i feel like the only person alive
who feels that
one Bukowski
was enough
Categories
Americana cinema civility coffee comfort dance death desserts destruction divinity domestic violence ecology electoral process English fairy tales family forensics fucking funerals geneology government and a lack thereof horror human behavior humanity humor iconography infidelity insects Jazz journalism kindness kinetics life literature local color love love poetry medicine mindfulness mortuary science mourning non-fiction ornithology painting pandemics parenthood Paris performance photography physics poetic theory poetry pop culture psychology publishing punk reading relationship studies rituals romance science science writing self-care self-love sex sexism sexuality shitty shit shooting stars Short Stories slang society sociology sociopathology Southern Gothic Southern Living suicide technology thanatology the arts theatre theism theology tomes traditions travel travel writing Uncategorized Urban Legends vice waste weddings womens studies words writing
Paris in the rain
a woman’s life
is too tenuous
delicate
billowy
spider web
close call on I-75
in preterm labor
on the way to the
Paris airport
in the rain
fragile
beautiful
precious
sacrosanct
finite
for bad friends
bad family
bad coffee
bad shoes
bad mattresses
bad jobs
bad husbands
bad debt
and bad dick
learn this by 30 for maximum
enjoyment
future
female
conquerors
of a dying planet
we were four madcaps deep
in a ratskeller bathroom stall
stoned
within boozy historic walls
one of us pissing
three of us smoking
all of us drinking
3 queens and a king holding court
in the men’s room shitter
gods were made
mushroom euphoric
k-hole bar bouncers lamented
upstairs Nagasaki
our glee
our group dynamic pee
a urinal patron
chimed in
with delighted confusion
so
my lips began
to recite a poem
summoned at will
about buying tickets to the show
spoken word,
nay,
spoken turd, i say
he laughed and applauded
on the other side
of our bomb shelter door
in that moment
we
truly lived
Categories
activism Americana analysis art baseball writing battle behavior belief cemeteries childhood chronology civility comfort corsets crime criminal behavior dance death destruction deviance divinity ecology education electoral process Europe fairy tales family feminism fiction fucking furniture geneology geography government government and a lack thereof happiness Hell history horror human behavior humanity humor iconography journalism Kentucky kindness kinetics literature local color love medicine mortuary science mourning muse museums Music mythology nature nightmares non-fiction Ohio ornithology painting pandemics papyrus parenthood Paris performance physics poetry politics pop culture psychology
of thee I sing
the true measure
of a civilized society
are the rumors
told by its ghosts
