memento mori

pacing ‘round the parking lot

still

with white snow

ball bearings

    making their move

tracks

bearing the weight

that which

they were never meant

 

my back against the building

mirrors yours

against the door

grimy with

schmutz, and dust

this window’s

reflection

into a bitter, torn up soul

 

a shell of its former self

superheroic fortress

solitude, alongside Superman

robots, yet you

are no longer the hero

and one I could never be

 

so again I walk away

deep in thought, hands

deep in pockets

fiddling as I get my bearings

a worrying

balancing act

one forever alone

 

the other

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Prayers for the Order to Our Houses

After the living room shake-up

the pleading fight

to watch

“just one more show.”

The brushing of the teeth

lasted less than I care for

gummies and two Batman phonics readers

the long I and U

sounding suspiciously

like a Bugs Bunny cartoon.

 

Say it with me now.

 

After the bedroom shake-up

the pleading fight

to read

“just one more story.”

The gnashing of the teeth

lasted longer than I care for.

 

After the noodle song

which was first composed

from the front seat

during the witching hour

(expertly timed to the latest breakdown)

a tune, incorporating

long vowels of its own,

yet never mentions noodles.

 

Say it with me now.
Nah, we’ll not go into that nonsense.

 

Then come the prayers,

say them with me now:

 

We pray for Harrison

We pray for Mommy

We pray for Daddy

And we pray for baby Ida Mae

 

We pray for all of Harrison’s friends

all of Mommy and Daddy’s friends

and all of Ida Mae’s friends

 

We pray for Grammy and Bop-Bob’s house

Poppy and Julie’s house

Gumpy and NiNi’s house

And we pray for our house at North Hall

 

Last comes the freestyles:

 

Heavenly Father, thank You for this day.

We especially pray for Mommy

for NiNi…

…and Gumpy.

Yes, Harrison, Gumpy, too.

…and the 3Ds

…and George

 

…and GiGi.

Endurance

My end
shall not be
determined
by their finish.
Photos or not
bodies thrown
prone
spread out before you now
all within an arm’s reach
length, step
gingerly
aside, footsie, footing
for the best purchase
until these rugged
places become plains.

It’s all fluff, nutter.
Bananas,
sandwiched in
aren’t ever
going to make this healthy
no matter how palatable
the lie you tell yourself.

Keeping the pace
of your own race
struck
down
again
and again
(and again?)
pavement
sending shocks
through the system
algorithmic
malfunction chip
pry it loose
as it gnaws at you

try your best but you don’t succeed

or

pull yourself up by your trail shoes

because it’s not
place, PR, age category
but about time,
the shining glory
of your participation trophy
isn’t coming from it.

Fairest

The mirror’s glamour

gloomy shade

reflected not

what he thought:

 

the sleep on the road, on the run

prisons of papier-mâché

monsters of men, martyrs

wearing crowns of thorns.

While the tales have all been told,

and the lies

behind the eyes, as

crow’s feet peck and hop

and four and twenty black birds

murmur across

dark waters

and oft-forgotten woods

where dreams once dwelt.

Cauldrons scald of stone soup

made with love by

those Bremen Town magicians

visions of beasts, eat

and as they feast, their eyes

on the throne of bones

dragged away by their own

evil desire and enticed

their animal natures, rut, rote

reign forever in this world

atop a hill of beans.

 

He forgets his face

until the next time he looks,

gazing at the grays

that weren’t there last time.

PYRE

‘tis only right,

but we ain’t got time

for a proper burial.

 

Even a cairn

of unbridled possibility

stacking up to cover up

bodies

we pray you’ll never have to see.

 

We don’t want no animals

poking ‘round the remains.

The scent of fresh blood on the air

will drive ‘em down the valley

…and we want to be long gone by the time they get here. 

Skelekinesis

There is no tiptoeing

around this elephantine

madness; as to which came first

no one quite knows,

but there are stories

that one can never forget.

Birthed, here

locked away from the sun

festering, as it were

bosoms that beckon

coddled by inviting hands

and satisfy

grace, grazed

with their touch

bony, death-like

appendages, pinpricks

shudder

climbing ladders of your vertebrae,

pent up

aching for release.

PWNR of a Lonely Heart (Suffer not a Witch)

Are the planets

in their correct houses

to begin this?

Something

definitely amiss

these phases

the way you behave is

nothing short

of bi-polar, maybe baby

in a stroller

pre-pregnancy

hesitancy.

 

Giving in to these base urges,

as we write our dirges

slowly sinking

obviously

not thinking.

Beating my breast

that reeling

feeling

in my chest

Neanderthal

sloped forehead in

consternation, frustration

monomyth

and a fire in the belly.

Jelly?

 

Astrological australopithecines

can’t walk the street

without causing

wanderings, amid that fertile

crescent of a moon

a little too soon

shooting for the stars

and my prized consolation

is these constellations

as we play connect-the-dots

amid forget-me-nots

you smell of roses

and those hips

the kind that could sink ships

Helen of Troy

Mother of Pearl

giving codependency

another whirl.

Girl. Mmmm.