Anxious Little Prayers for Heathens in Despair
My fingertips dig
into the rough, teal cover
of an Everyman’s Library
copy of Return of the Native.
A meager ledge, a final attempt
to seize the thread of humanity
by grasping at the words
we weave.
I have sat many seasons
re-reading the same book,
re-treading the same descriptions
of wild heath.
Our actions are less permanent.
Our lives escape clean narration.
Language stretches
beyond our sorrows.
I. SOMNAMBULISM
i once convinced you the house was on fire
and you slept-walked to the door with the dog in your arms
attempting to usher me away from the flames that only existed in our shared subconscious
II. SLEEP TERRORS
i woke to your hand around my throat
a cool room
the bed on the floor surrounded with
cans, receipts, dirty clothes, and spare change
i gazed at the ceiling light fixture
a clear globe striated like a candy dish
with a dead fly trapped inside, slightly off-center
a map of the US instead of a headboard
glimpses of town names I’d never heard of
tried to envision the places and people
i found our city on the map
and trusted
the terror would pass
04-02-2019
Abattoir is just a fancy word for slaughterhouse
My face is red with acne, as we head to the Pacific
Ohio. Fucking Ohio! The abattoir of my dreams!
I’m driving as far away from you as possible, Fucker.
Some DJ from LA is texting me. He sounds nice on the phone.
He owns the desert cabin we stayed in, wants to meet.
I don’t want to know any different, so I won’t.
I leave a poem on the table. He left me a voicemail.
I don’t think anybody ever wrote him a poem before.
The Saturday before the 2024 total solar eclipse, I had the honor of having one of my poems selected for a staged reading for Literary Cleveland‘s The Gift Of Darkness. It was held at the auditorium of the Stokes’ building in the Main Branch of the Cleveland Public Library. My piece was the thirteenth poem read, performed by three of the four talented performers onstage. Thank you to all who contributed and made the event possible! It placed me in a positive mindset for the main event.
______________________
The eclipse passing over Cleveland was a humbling and calming experience. I should’ve known it would be life-affirming, because my brother has been planning on visiting with his family for several years.
He analyzed historical weather data and decided to come to a notoriously cloudy city in a statistically rainy month. In the weeks leading up to the event, he was texting and calling daily with maddeningly variable weather and cloud cover predictions. He was possessed with the slim chance that it would all work.
I did not yet understand. I had only ever seen partial eclipses.
It will either be cloudy or not cloudy, I said. Try not to get your hopes up.
Notes from the Total Solar Eclipse – April 8, 2024 3:14PM ET
clear weather in cleveland
the light is all wrong
shadows, mere crescents
communal anticipation
radiates from the small yards
of matching brick homes
there is a beat at totality
an awed inhale followed by cheering
through which i discern my loved ones’ voices
look at how there is a sunset in every direction
this is the most beautiful thing i have ever seen
are you going to remember this forever?
04-02-2019
Westbound out of Los Banos in April
green folds of earth surround me
i want to know what it looks like in late summer
if i could love it any other way
westbound, towards the Pacific
to Big Sur, to things i know and love
but have yet to experience
I. Pothole Blues
pungent tar
patches March potholes
Cleveland spring
II. Water Main Break Blues
silt sprays upwards
into the impossibly
blossomed street
III. Sinkhole Blues
men spend hours
hammering asphalt
turning iron rods
finally able to quiet
the hemorrhaging
of the city’s arteries
I. Upper Respiratory Fever Dream
my chest is the shredded wreckage
of a capsized windsail
twisting about
in the current
II. False Etymology Fever Dream
The etymology of etymology is that
Late Middle English derived from old French, via Latin from Greek
a concept of “student of etymology”. From etumos; ‘truth’.
So, Etymology is the study of the true sense, or sense of truth.
Many common word origins remain a mystery.
i propose DOG comes from a gruff onomatopoeic bark
It has been one year since I lost my beloved souldog, Stanley.
I’ve read and wrote grief from every possible angle, attempting to box it into a knowable corner.
In one year, I have found only that grief is amorphous, endless. It evades proper definition.
The best writers thoughts on grief calm me. Quotes that resonate with me most are succinct.
Joan Didion, on losing her husband John to heart failure: “I remember thinking that I needed to discuss this with John.”
Charles Bukowski, on losing Jane: “I say anything that moved like that or knew my name could never die in the common verity of dying.”
What else can be done to understand grief but to acknowledge our inability to accept loss?
I wake every morning without him. But my hand still searches for his big block head. My heart leaps when I return home, expecting to see him waiting at the door.
I know one thing more about grief than what I knew a year ago:
Grief can never fade the joy of our brief time together.
Still.
I just want my dog.
They must look down at earth and mutter:
I would kill for some fast food. Envision themselves
as a child sitting in a parking lot in a rusty sedan.
Dipping fries ketchup and scanning the sky.
Safe on the ground, limits untested.
Dreams unrealized and unspoiled
by physics and time and the
mundane realities of employment.
Their minds must map midwest constellations.
Corn. Sonic Drive-Ins. Fading steel towns.
The memory of corn syrup clings to their throats.
Homesickness coating the tongue.
03-28-2019
Excalibur Nightmare (View from the Luxor)
a rifleman on the gaudy parapets
takes aim at a young buck
pops off a liver shot
the deer tries to run, but falls
viscous grape blood pours
onto the strip
04-02-2019
Vegas Haikus
the best part about
staying at the Excalibur
is not seeing it
lots of people here
look like vanilla ice, and
not in a good way
balding dudes wearing
red hot chili peppers tees
gaping at mountains