Two Boys Cry

Dad does not toss around with his two sons.
Matt and Sam throw the football at tan siding.
Dad never put money into an account
for his sons’ college education.

They’ll get by on their own, like he did.

Dad works at a foundry. 12 hours a day, 12 days on a
concrete slab, in a iron dust assembly line
Dad grinds 100 pound parts and is paid for piece work.

He has the rooted body of a windswept pine.

Matt, the eldest, is 11, and a fierce disciplinarian.
He’s afraid at the beach when the water hits
his knees, and makes Sam go in first.
Sam throws seaweed. Matt bunches in his face.
Dad sleeps in the warm sun at the kitchen table,
his black snot, damp and moving.
Dad is a gamer. A clean face father,
brown hair with slices of grey, tv eyes,
car radio, a flannel shirt cover,
blood calloused hands. Not a good cooker.
Sam is six and buds hunger. Matt will make cheese sandwiches.

The boys are violently happy. No one tells them its bed time.
No one sings about disgusting lovers and petal adventures.
And even if they weren’t, what could they do?
They can’t go to mother, say, ‘where are you’
She’s dead. And dad, dad’s too tired to wake-up.

Their battle cry is something else.

Claque For The Dripping Faucet Minds The Slices Of Bread

i guess if you knew where this story was going you wouldn’t continue listening. you’d say something about this being a clay shay of claptrap
but since you don’t know where this is going
or what i would have you feel you continue in this twisted jargon game

do you remember learning about string theory and the gigantic brain that we are in that has been named half heartedly

when two slices of the bread hit together solar systems are created
like the first step into an idea with the clash of the second idea a theory is formed the same way a woman makes a lung while sipping tomato juice there is not much different in the way the woman’s mother made her mother’s grave dress out of the knitted table cloth that lightened the old oak table that was forgotten in the last move to the room where on Saturdays an old man dressed up as clown comes and sings ballads that remind the woman how hard it was to make it to the urine drenched chair that she sits hunched forward on the chair, which was once connected to the table, which is an idea that was talked about while eating toast and jam like a jam and toe fused in symbols means the same as growing old and the same as giving birth in small rooms that smell of bread and solar systems where the table and chair and the new ideas with the two slices of bread met jam and toes and her birth

the circle of ideology is a scary thing to see unfold for the first time. the second time it is life changing pleasantry

today, thankfully i woke early washed dishes picked up discarded papers that wore houses with eyes monsters who gave candy grey hair wrapped around pennies i scrubbed on my hands and knees with a coarse brush and later before bed had sex with my husband

he told me it had a been a good day, and i smiled back a repeated idea

today i was careful to focus on what i was doing slowly banished thoughts about long narrow passages that lead to more bulging tremor passages that lead back to wrinkled diminutive passages the red pepper sauce on the green plate. the crunched up collage of falling leaves with glitter dirt the tightness of long strands of hair on youth penny dates 1997, 1984, 1976 the grain of wood under soapy purifying reflection the tongue licking up spine into the mouth of the salt block dream

let me make it clear that there was
no where i wanted to go
no new idea i needed to meet
no twisted game i wanted to end.

the simple sound of water dripping out of the faucet was enough to
make every minute not turning it off a claque repeating positions.

by now you realize this is going nowhere new
nothing shocking nothing flippant and attention grabbing
no new way to feel insignificant want
you will have to learn to feel the simple inner empty space in your today by yourself

that is why i recommend you stop reading clay shay claptrap sorry for exhausted efforts and remember guessing twisted games that you don’t want to end and despite large

imaginations logics theories your solar voyages
are not much different than the solar systems’ endings which by now you must know
are the same as the bindings which lead back to the beginnings of why you continued listening to this twaddle that you felt would fill you with some-things.

Raw Yellow Chicken Scabs

I ate a piece of raw chicken on
accident. I didn’t see all those yellow

scabs. The last time I took a piss
was a couple of minutes ago.

May I have the blue sweater you’re sitting
on? It smells like two kinds of farts in here. I need to walk

more. The inner parts of my thighs shift when
my backside twitches. I hate this diner

we always go to. The coffee taste like
stale almonds. I noticed a pile of

guts on the sidewalk on my way back from
the doctor. It looked like noodles and oatmeal

with French salad dressing. I would have stepped
in it if hadn’t been for the seagull

staring at me. He kept saying he was
lonely and it caused me to look down.

Leaders of U.S.A -resign if your stupid

First let me be clear. I am an independent. I do not believe that Democrats or Republicans have the best interest of U.S.A in mind when they act or else they are stupid. They can’t all be that stupid so I assume that they hate U.S.A and the people. If not the right thing would be done and we wouldn’t have all the political lies.

If you elect me I’ll make Santa bring you a Porsche. They might as well say that because they play the fence and realize that we will buy their B.S. President, Senators, House of Representatives, I call to you to prove that you have the people in mind. We have elected you and we demand that you act in the best interest of us all, without sacrificing the least of us.

This is my call. You can pretend I am stupid, but I see through your bullshit. and so do many other Americans. You have spent trillions of dollars on war and the money, where the hell has it gone? You have tortured innocents. and you have lied your way to war, so your rich supporters could make even more money, while the American people are suffering and poor and sick. You take our blue-collar youth and use them in your plots of greed. We know this, the evidence is in.

We are a hopeful, idealistic, and forgiving people. We are loyal and willing to fight. You leaders have made horrible, stupid choices. Why? If you are so stupid, why don’t you hire a 12 year old, or college freshman to lead you. If you are so stupid, and really don’t know what do, resign, Say. “I’m stupid, and can’t do the job” We will at least be able to respect you for your self-awareness, for honesty and loyalty to us, the people.
I know there are complicated issues, but you are the ones given the responsibility to wade through the greed and power struggle to bring prosperity to our nation. If you can’t do that, why would we want you in office? Why? Do you think your good looks inspire us? Come on. So just so you know, we are not stupid. We are patient and we know it takes time. But your time has come to an end. It is now time to tell us the truth. we will not stand by and let you spend our wealth so your buddies can stuff even more of our money in their and your already over stuffed pockets. You bring shame on us President. Stop playing stupid or be prepared to face our picket signs. We are not loyal to men who abuse us President. We have no loyalty to you as a man. We have given you our best and you have misused our resources. Are you that stupid? Really, resign. If you are that incapable of handling the job, resign, make way for someone who is capable, and there are many.
All the people are not stupid. Yes, there are many stupid people, but there are also many smart people. And guess what, the smart people are telling the stupid people, and they are learning, they are capable of learning, of freeing themselves from ignorance. You are stupid, and are not capable. You have proven that. So resign. Go back to your tower. Go back to riding in your golf cart, and leave the politics to someone who can do the job. Resign, you’re dumb. Evil is stupid. Destroying innocent lives is stupid. War for war’s sake is stupid. That’s what you have given us. And Congress, I expect more from you. You are  spending too much money. Yeah. on war. without results

You have sat by, and allowed this idiot to control our nation, without stopping him when you knew what he was doing was stupid. why? are you scared? how does an angry mob of citizens make you feel? How does the let down of today’s youth make you feel? Go ahead ask. They think our government is a joke and it is your fault. Resign

Or start standing up for U.S.A and her people. We want you to spend our money on what is needed, we want you to set priorities, like we have to in our budgets. Health and income is our greatest concern. we have to be healthy to work so we can buy what our business and families need. Our families and employees need shelter, food, clean air and water, education. Everything depends on health.
Right now, most U.S citizens are trying to maintain health, provide shelter, clothes and food for their families.  Stop playing games with us.  We did not vote you into office so you could get rich. Resign or do your job

Where am I going now that I am content

photo-391.jpgI’m twenty-seven, have a six year old and I am married to a math genius. I’m a dumb hyper kid. I write poetry. Lately about war. Right now I am watching c-span 2. I don’t know if I can trust the General speaking. He looks honest. My brother is a soldier. He’s going back to war.I just graduated from college with a writing degree. It helped. I have realized that punctuation will not kill me.My husband is interviewing for jobs, and soon he will get one, and we will move away from Lake Superior.We have made many friends that we don’t want to leave but jobs are scarce in the north, and so we plan our departure. I leave a part of myself and take a part of this town, this land, these friends with me. There is still sand in my blue jean pockets.I don’t want to leave. Marquette is my writing home. My place to stretch and run and play.  Is the peace I feel inside from maturity or is a product of my location?  The slow mornings of writing, the looking out to the blue, the song singing, the thimbleberry eating and bunny, bird, squirrel, watching. The silent steps into the night sky and brilliance of the stars. The twitching northern lights. The brisk nights standing by a fire with a hot tea with honey. How far away will I wonder from my lady, the great lake before I won’t be able to shut my eyes and visualize her? I may never return. It maybe to painful, to innocent to return. I may have to stand off, far and attempt to forget the life I had. I will surely make a new one. I will not find better views or friends. I will not hear better poetry or drink better coffee. But maybe I’ll find a substitute. Madison, look for me.  I’ll be the chubby kid with the fistful of poems and the coffee stained frown.

I heard a soldier say

Such a bad day to find a rope and friend,
such a bad day to hide the sour touch of hunger, of watchful sin.
My faith is not strong enough to be answered. My faith is
broken. And yet I hold on to a bible and a photo.

Outside, I hear a child call, in long and extended
soft yells, of ‘I am lost, where’s home’

This little voice sounds like my daughters voice,
and I almost cry out ‘yes, dear I am here’
but my daughter is state side, at school,
limping her way in a classroom.
my half heart says run to the lost child,
hold her, and help her find a mother.
This voice, so patient and enduring, calling out,
is in the way of war time orders.
The child walks in front of the truck.
My buddy speeds up to run her over.
As he sings the songs of boot camp training
‘Kill them on a Sunday morning,
Bomb them on their way to prayer’

Like usual I join in and don’t care.