love is an unsupervised child
with bad intentions
and a chemistry set
Tag: science
I miss mix tapes. I miss engineering them from my vinyl collection and other tapes. I miss having them all over the passenger seat of my car. Tapes for driving, tapes for dancing, tapes for running at WT park, tapes for dates…tapes for break-ups you got to pitch when you stopped sulking and started seeing someone else. I miss rewinding unfurled tapes with the perfect size BIC pen. Damn it! I miss mixtapes!
when a living creature
has an unnatural state
inflicted upon its existence
things rarely turn out well
for the specimen
.
war
starvation
drought
intoxication
concentration camps
laboratory foods
pharmaceutical cultures
imprisonment
unhappy marriage
industrialization
slavery
religion
Los Angeles International Airport
and
the digital imposition
that is
the internet
.
yet we can’t stop meddling
with our world
.
when what remains
of humanity
can no longer see the sun
.
we will blame pollution
and the microchip
.
yet it is our own
irreverent
parasitic instincts
.
too late to admit
human psychology
was the harbinger
of our own death
Gregor Mendel
was a Moravian scientist
and Augustinian friar,
who in the mid 1850’s,
became the father
of genetics
and heredity,
through his experiments
with plants bearing peas.
My playful mind envisions him
amongst tender blossoms
applying color and size,
dominance and hybridization,
to the Punnett square
within his thoughts.
Given over to whimsy,
I concoct a notion
of the genius
preparing for Easter feast,
crossbreeding
hummingbirds
with marshmallows
to provide God,
Cherubim,
and Seraphim
little angel shaped Peeps.
he had been loudly staring at me
over his new york times
magazine section
for the duration
of the train ride
his trench coat was wet
so was i
that night
i would have remained seated
until the rockaways
to keep looking into his victor mature eyes
overcome with a case of
girl, you damn well know better
i ran through the doors
just before they closed
at the next stop
on the blue line
he stood against the glass
looking beautiful
betrayed
as i held fast to the thought
i have a friend close by
on utica avenue
who always wants to go for a drink
after a day of war
and she
never
gets me pregnant
grief is a sloppy drunk
slurred stumble leaning
into unresolved dark corners
of our lives
the moment you think
you’ve placed him down for the night
into a reasonable bed
here he comes again
breathing his sickly sweet
bourbon breath
how will i ever forget
where our statues stood
before the corrosive
passage of time
water and salt
form glacial streams
down weary faces
marking the ones who love us
this is what we began with
this is what we leave behind