Good

Party poppers, pink petunias, no,

pink Petunias, like they’re

more flustered than an overwhelmed butcher on a Chicago night.

More mustard than Toomgis and the colonel himself.

Roll the dice, lead pipe, I’m plum, ballroom

dancing with a girl cross on her chest, warm smile, give it my best.

Warm smile, “my pleasure”, nuggs, baby,

oh baby, nuggs, that’s MY pleasure.

Chickenless, meatless, boneless, made of tofu

no fool, belly full, conscience cool.

Green earth, my seventeen-year-old turf.

McConaughey yelling Murph.

Spending time bending time with my dime, call us Interstellar.

Watch a movie Avi, got a crush, do I tell her.

These are midday sun rays,

these are florist flowers,

these are good good.

lean

flow like I feel,
face soft like my suburban ego.
vicious crying like a witness,
I’m a villian spittin venom on your business.
shake my boys and tried to kill it,
make a move, make em mad, make a menace.
cop a motel, max a card, leave the limit.
I’m feeling real, feeling dope, feeling lean,
I’m feeling a new Kaar sheen.
feeling good, clothes off sittin’ whip like Hollywood
pasty fiend out the city like a celebrity.
no denim hella clothes off like college,
away from thoughts down 101 gettin’ some mileage.
strip off, the tense and tense and tense,
no location, intense no fear, no direction.
lowkey chose to lose this introspection,
accept my reflection, the subjection of disaffection,
the ejection of perfection, and the intersection of protection and rejection.
feeling as the sun beats down on my pale complexion.

wrong hands

wrong man said, Ever since
left me fell into wrong hands Left me
I guess just F-in wrong
Ooh Ah ooh ah ooh ah ooh ah ooh ah.

You man, took time, away man.
Just read some mind, the signs
see clear, mine tryna ’cause love blind
to heal hurt fine, wrong hands takes time.
I guess F-in wrong
Ooh Ah ooh ah ooh ah ooh ah ooh ah.

I remember tryna dream full.
Sprees of tryna chill,
we would get a little around town
pass by, ‘round like Tokyo crib.
Back when rebuilding feelings,
In love with me, could kill for real.
Return with shopping gift like
Ooh Ah ooh ah ooh ah ooh ah ooh ah.

I guess you’re F-in wrong.
Fell into wrong hands,
turn tables, gotta give a little.
Thinking now I just laugh like
Ooh Ah ooh ah ooh ah ooh ah ooh ah.

All of the words in this poem were rearranged from the song Sundress by A$AP Rocky. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ec3LoKpGJxY

near

near a babbling creek that teems with Mark Ruffalo-like fish.

near green eucalyptus that sways in the curls and spirals of grey wind.

near the sticky stem grown from birth out of her head,

near the crisp honey-colored splotches on her skin,

near her envying bird beak that pokes and prods at the dirt below,

near keen black pearl eyes seeking to scavenge and sail away.

near tumultuous ground quaking impatiently,

near wet worm wandering up and breeching dirt,

near peeking up above the worm world,

near pecking down below her world,

near fear and transition and death and nature,

near no more worm world or worm family or worm 401k.

near “wait how am I alive?”,

near “And I am surrounded by food?”.

near its worm mouth crunching on her sweet firm flesh.

near her deliciously read songs of chirping,

near rolling away with a chirp after a morning meal,

near here, she lives, the apple-bird.

a poem from when i was in my friend's kitchen and a calendar told me to write a poem

roses are red

violets are blue

i just had kbbq

now i’m getting down to the electric boogaloo

friday nights before corona

an Uber, half an hour in line, and five dollars to get in,

bump jump dump chump,

tonight we turn California to Berlin,

bump jump dump chump,

been offbeat for what feels like an album now

so let’s fucking RALLY

gettin trashed on a garbage can,

gettin flashed under the strobe lightin,

swingin round shirtless tonight i’m tarzan,

dancing thoughts, my minds no longer on sudan,

fuckin with this like a mom fuckin the milkman,

favorite witch on my wingspan,

forget about kyrgystan,

moves so hot and saucy call me a saucepan,

i’m gettin sauced man

let my mind lie and lie,

bump jump dump chump,

throwing it back like Marty McFly,

bump jump dump chump,

buried

we buried my great grandmother two days ago

in a fog gray urn we laid her ashes to rest.

she is now a plaque, numbers, and dashes.

a pastor i’ve known since five said she lived a great life.

he said she loved and prayed and rode her stationary bike four miles a day

and he said that was enough, he said 103 years and it was a success.

we, all 13 of us, sat next to a picture of her

collaboratively stewing empty promises to feast on emotional closure

and gorge on endorphins, as we forget.

this is what most of us become isn’t it,

the subject of some vaguely peripheral person’s speech and

stories that make family laugh with tears in their lashes.

numbers and dashes

Sunset

watch it fall

and catch that

vibing water down set

busy times

take it in

cresting waves

summer ends

sunset

scrounging squirrelette

sipping wine that tastes

sour like vinegarette

doesn’t get

better than the line lit across the sea fit

picture it

we’ve made it

sunset

study

speaking easy thinking hard,

hard heart cold as

old souls spout older words

that used to mean so much.

sola fide, varitas vos liberabit, sola gratia,

speaking in a dead language

doesn’t make God feel alive.

is god alive?

camera’s green light only makes me want to go

i used to always say i’d love to pray

now i hate let’s sit and talk about prayer for an hour or so

and i despise let’s sit and explain away Paul’s misogyny

read Psalm 1

sheepishly agree i’m the tree

that justice and goodness will come when it does

to put up with numbness and accept life is just this

nevermind it says were sending gays to hades

nah let’s flex our systematic theologies

inerrancy infallibility, that shit to me

is dubious archeology

i used to be obsessed with the living God

now i’m obssessed with losing my facade

shell beach

im at the beach

the tide is low

like the waves

as they come and go

as the winds blow

as i listen to the cry of the seagull