Stopped by and rested on the great silver maple in the backyard.
Next to it was a dead bird.
It came to see the pups chase rabbits. Life is war for the rabbits but for the eagle
It’s a sky dance and meat snacks
“You’ll have to let a dream die to achieve another,” says the eagle. I nod.
The crows are mad. They cry and swoop about. But the Eagle doesn’t care. The pups are too stupid to look up.
I stand with a pitch fork, guarding the pups
The eagle swoops up and goes to the neighbors massive pine
To eat the heart of the dead bird
To eat the heart of a dead dream
What day is it?
I’ve been trapped
on this plant forever.
The sun rises and sets.
I am still here.
I could jump.
I don’t know if I will survive.
There is blue water
and the shore is not too far off.
I’m pretty sure I could swim it.
If I didn’t get hurt too bad on the fall.
It’s a long fall to you
And I don’t know if you will
let me stay when I get to you.
You might lock me out.
I have food. I have shelter.
I could make a parachute.
But I’d have to cut down this plant though,
the thing that sustains me.
Here I have a nice little nest made of leaves.
I have blankets of braided orchids
and the fruit from the plant to eat.
The seeds have proteins and fats.
The fireflies come and dance in the evening.
It is peaceful. It is beautiful. The sea calls though.
The shore is long and behind it is a forest.
Thick trees trunks wider than my reach.
Wider than ten of me.
There is a world that I do not know
that you are in.
I see the smoke from your fire
and flick of light in the dying day
I dream someday our lands will meet
Someday I may warm myself by your side
You have been in your head too much
this doesn’t work for you
You are a doer. You must stay busy and engaged
Right now, you are not. You are tired and in pain
Your mouth is dry, your skin is dry. It is cold outside
…You’re an idiot.
I’m bored of this already
This needs to be erased
I need to go for a walk
Off a cliff. dive into a dream of cold water
I want summer in Lake Superior
I want her freedom
Her sweet clean air
It is winter. White and dirty and grey
I slept like shit again last night.
My neck hurts. Blah
That is what I feel like
Blah blah blah
I am wasting my living
I am giving it all, for what I can’t grass anymore
The greatest painter to ever paint
Made sure to fuzzy the line
Where one ended and another began
That is what I am trying with your love
This is not the poem I want to write
The poem I want to write is about taking
care of one another
But that poem is boring and nice
It is too polite for us
What the hell are we doing?
Why are we not fucking?
Must I beg for your cock in my mouth?
You are doing dishes and Im pretty
sure you have fever too
Both of the girls do.
I can barely stand. We are dizzy
And puking and coughing and shitting
But you are doing the dishes
You come and check on us
bring water from the other side
of the universe and those cool magic pills.
Yesterday I went to store
and got a bunch of groceries.
you were sleeping and had a fever.
Then I cleaned.
Brought you some pills
And helped the girls.
We take care of each other.
When people complain about being married
I want to say, have you tried sucking his dick?
Maybe if you give it all
maybe the someone else
will give it all back to you
Somethings don’t have to be said
I know that all humans are not bad
But I have a hard time fingerings out the good ones
I don’t trust my ability fully.
There is always something I can miss
This uncertainty is my armor
I try to keep one foot on the ground
And one hand on my pistol
I not going to put up with bullshit
Its nothing personal, you understand?
It just, you see, I don’t know
how long I have to live
It may end soon or something
so I don’t want to waste any time
on bullshit -You get it
You’ve wasted time on bullshit
I see it on your face
The Christmas lights on my tree
Its all I have kept of tradition
You never put me right
Maybe you tried
Maybe you loved me
But that’s not enough
Your love can’t cover up your abuse
I’m not a little child. But I’m still vulnerable
I admit it. I’m at accepting
I can’t live for you
I’m not sorry.
You wanted me to carry you
Like a pointless backpack of rocks
like a bucket of shit
sloshing on top of my head
I was your surefooted mule
I took pride in how much I could carry
I’ve put it down
The bible, the apologizing, the pride, shame,
And now – the fear and bucket of hate.
I’ve given up being the ass
Its no longer my surprise
I’m not passing it on or boxing it up
Or hiding it in the basement
Wrapped tight for later
You fucked up
you carry it
I’ll call and you won’t answer
Because you’re dead
Not a shocking dead but a just about time
From another bad fall dead
You’re lucky to make it this far
It will be me someday too
but that is irrelevant
It’s you that matters
as the phone rings
And you don’t pick up
Please pick up