Thursday, March 20, 2014

Flipping-Off God

The first time
was with a bottle
of Jamaican rum
and a big bowl of spaghetti
while watching an R-rated
movie – nude scenes and all –
that one weekend
I got the house to myself.

I woke up staggerblind
and learned that God
flips back better,
that spaghetti puke
looks like a leaky jugular
with fishbone sprinkles,
that some things stink
for the rest of your life.

The second time
was a decade-and-a-half later
at a bar with a green-eyed girl
I still miss sometimes. It was after
three Long Islands and a sloppy,
I really, really care for you.

Grey Sparrow - Spring 2014

Monday, March 17, 2014

Here Comes the Sun

Margaret, do you know
who this is on the radio?

That’s the Beatles, Daddy.

Very good! You know what, Margaret?
As long as you have music in your life,
you’ll be happy.

Yep. And you know what else, Daddy?
You should never stare at the sun. If you do,
you’ll go blind.

Boston Literary Magazine - Spring 2014

Stars Are Tiny

as the overlooked grain of rice
left on the burner to smoke
beneath the half-full copper kettle;

as the gnat caught on the wing
and slapped between palms
a thousand-times harder than necessary;

as the dry red spots
along my collar that beg me
to just go double-bladed;

as the thinning of her smile
between that day and now –
a reduction that resembles

the just-this-much-more-slowly
I walk from my truck to our house
in the twilight of each long day.

Boston Literary Magazine - Spring 2014