From Above

When the moon looks down at me
all she sees is another grain
of speckled sand sifting below.

she cannot hear me sweating
like the ocean, with my
hungry teeth, my itchy
nails.
My footprints become swallowed
by one of the mouths of wind
and we'll just keep it
a secret.

the clouds and i
we laugh together
as if we know
something more
than we should.

Minor Suffering

After breaking my wrist
a couple weeks ago,
I experienced a change in my
way of daily living
many people asked me
How much more difficult
is everything?
I tell them,
you have no idea
how hard it is for me
to convince my sister
to make me a sandwich.
They laugh.
I don't.

The Lady at the Counter

She says hello
politely
asks me if I need any help
finding a cigar
No thanks, I say
and just browse
as I am want to do
I find a cheap pack of
10 cigarillos
from Germany
She smiles,
so I tip her
then she gives me matches
Have a good one she says
I smile Thanks you too
She says she'll try
I want to talk to her
but another customer comes
and she says hello
so I leave
and have a smoke.
It's smooth.

"I Think We're in Arkansas"

Scrounged every quarter,
Every last drop
Of liquor, scrapped
Meat and cheese
From fridge corners,
Enough bread for
Six days driving.
Six dudes piled
Together, cargo van
Windows always down,
Drinking the sun
Through aviator glasses.
Trading thoughts, stories
Personal histories, karma
Absorbing color, strong
Wind, heat, sound
Pouring through skin
Making us whole
Becoming one whole
Car and not
Six separate passengers.
Hot speaker stereo
Music with fingers
Tickles our faces.
We keep rolling
Cheap tobacco cigarettes
Tangled in laughter,
Episodes of conversation
Or momentary seclusion,
With surplus jerky
Chewing jaws numb
Until smiles stuck
From muscle tensed,
Dozing off, on
Sliding down seats
Drooling in sleep.
Forgetting our names
Remembering only seconds,
Tattooing a memory
Shaped like wheels
On my ribs.

I Scratched This onto a Desk in the Library Somewhere

On the west side of the city, the chit chat of strangers
Leaks into your pockets and pulls
Your face into smile position.
Ladies like to open their eyes
Wide and talk loud,
Just to make sure you listen.
I wore my only suit
And slicked my hair back
For this?

In High School my problems quickly became all of my friends’
Too, once I started exploding violently out my mouth.
I called it catharsis; they called my problems “Bomblems.”

When I broke my hand in a tragic typing accident
I started writing with my feet.
Pen between the toes, biting the upper lip.
Nobody knows the relief writing holds like I do.
Distracting the pain, much like fooling
An old dog when you pretend to throw his toy away.

My watch has been broken for a few months now,
The hands behind the scratched glass, frozen,
Or dead, not sure.
I can’t bring myself to throw it away,
I like the way it holds my wrist far too much,
So now, it’s my compass.

It took me twenty rounds to realize, life was just a board game,
We only move the pieces because boredom isn’t as glamorous
As it used to be.
I will always be the same player,
Even though, sometimes, I would like to be the silver shoe,
Or even the top hat.
I guess it doesn’t really matter,
As long as we finish together.

Nothing makes sense,
If you think about it long enough.

Sandwich.

The King of Clear Skies

When my name is Galinqua I
will pull the stars off
their hooks and you will
crave me like a moth craves
dim closet lights.

More you than you are you

The Chicago Anarchist Society is having
a meeting this Saturday.
The mohawked one invited me,
but I told him plainly,
that I was strictly
Anti-Anti-Organization
in my principles.