Tag Archives: Non-Fiction

The inbetweens

Light a candle
Put a stop to them
Put a stop to them
Put a stop to them
I like to sit
Watching plants grow
From a window
Scrolling down
Down
Down
But it lags
It lags
It lags
It lags
& I know
Somewhere inbetween the I
And these requests you sit
Collecting
& I muse
Do you feel a pang rewarded
Like I do
Like I do
Do you
It’s sticky
Like a web
Like the cum
On your hands
Little humps
On the top of tinted SUV’s
Watching screens
Watching screens
Watching screens
It doesn’t matter
We’re the inbetweens
The inbetweens
The inbetweens


Sometimes I think about Oroville

Like a tweaker panning for gold
in the dead drought dessicated crick like a slot machine about to give way

Like the white cessna stingray
in May failing at low altitudes
at seven in the morning

Like a gang of deadeyed palepasty zombie kids
twitchpicking their way thru
a market that doesn’t give a fuck

Like the nine gram rule
that kept everyone out
and everything in

Like using a helicopter
to pinpoint where to falsify
your thousandth anonymous complaint

Like packs of water bottles lined up
several hundred yards away
who knows how many rounds of .308

Like two dudes getting a handy in an old Chevy
by a tweakjawed crackwhore between them by the tracks

Like how they always wondered if it was Sour Diesel
& one of their corrupt colleagues got caught
moving packs back east

Like that real raw look on their face
everyone has from the brutal heat beating down
through the toxic valley air

Like winning 10k at the casino
getting drunk and dying crashing into a river on your way home
the cash floating downstream



Round house

I used to love
to kick things
as hard as I could
like people
on the side of their heads
if they didn’t move
I remember the feelings
of taking a foot to the face
the pain shock & humility
the deafening pressure—the ringing
to destroy between a helmet and a chest piece
the barriers between us—the rules governing
our moves but not our emotions—
I’m reminded of this at the hip
with every step I take
toward my grave


Gem

The first time we met
dirtyblonde curlyhaired locks
with the widest ocean blue eyes
I may have ever seen just beaming
childlike and heavy

You chainsmoked camels
like you were nervous, excited,
or just happy to be talking art
which was plastered all over every inch of your walls & ceiling

The passion was there but the style & mastery
had yet to be developed—

You were from Jersey and couldn’t say orange,
always looking like a fairy with your thrift store dresses & jewelry—wearing daisys in your hair—you would giggle like a jitterbug at everything and it was contagious—we loved you for it—except maybe some of the other girls

It was just who you were—I remember you took a class
on how to weave baskets with a bunch of old ladies—it was a dying art soon to be forgotten you said—
we’d drive to the beach or chug wine out on the kayaks on the Manatee just shooting the shit watching the sunsets looking for the green flash—
I’d see you on rollerskates at Sonic smoking blunts in the back
waiting to get off so we could listen to the Pixies
& smoke more blunts or sometimes floral smelling goo—

We didn’t know what we were doing
you said you saw circus bears sorta dancing in the ceiling
and I’d really never seen anything more
than a cloudy veil of flowing golden faces at that point

I was never really attracted to you either 
but we fucked one night when we were drunk anyway just for the hell of it—
pissed your ex off when he found out—my friend at the time—you must have told him deliberately—he told us
we didnt know what we wanted, hell, he was right

You would talk about your family problems
and although it seemed kinda shitty we didn’t know
just how bad it was for you—you befriended Gypsy
this old crackhead in the jungle behind kmart who used you to get her things yet you adored her for a while

I’d been gone five years off and on since then
when you visited Amber and I in Santa Cruz during your road trip across the states
the jealous cunt hated you for being an old female friend
and I hated her for that at the mexican restaurant
where we both began to realize the dude that you were with
was a bit of a wingnut
you wanted to camp in a park
I asked if you were ok or needed a place to stay
you said you were maybe going to Mexico with him
and I sometimes almost hate myself for letting you go 
but what the fuck was I supposed to do?
Yo
u went to Ireland and hung out with a bunch of old dudes for a while you said—I could see it on your facebook—which I never did—not that I didn’t want to

Like a year after I got a call on my phone late one night
still with a Florida number after all those years
I would change it not long after
But it was my brother—not really—who
I’d not seen in forever having gotten lost among the hedgewalls of my life closing in on me again—
he said he’d been trying every combination of numbers until it worked for an hour not even knowing if it would be the same—he was out of his mind—said he knew she was crazy, but not that crazy, you know? 

Shitfaced & alone sitting in the upstairs attic-loft of my shack in Scott’s Valley with a Sierra Nevada and a spliff is how I found out you left your car burning on that bridge—I miss you, I wish, and I wonder all the time


Brittany

You were the tallest girl I ever fucked—
that alone stands out to me thinking back
among the sea of deviance like a peak in the waves

You must have been my height
or just slightly shorter—I think we even
did a side by side just to see back to back

I remember those legs
but I can’t remember your face now
other than the way I would catch you staring at me from across the room

There at someones party with your semidwarfed boyfriend
in Sarasota from outta town—Tallahassee maybe,
you guys seemed so close

I don’t know why then our hands found
their way into each others
while he was supposedly passed out right beside us—

There was no stopping it at that point—
we were too young or something—too magnetic—
nothing else in the world had any meaning left—

We had been born to find each other
sought out of height—out of hair—
out of the ringing in our hands down into your soaked booty
shorts

I had to taste it—
and soon my cock growing into belonging down in your throat
was no longer enough—

To fuck wildly trying to be quiet
he didnt even move
or make a sound pulling your black wavy hair back
my hand over your mouth in the dark smell of unpeeling
—I remember
loving distinctly how much of you there was—
the same reason we’ll probably be gone
from this world before everyone else—

You told me you’d let me do anything to you
and of course that was a total lie
but it sounded good outside at 4am on the grass beneath the willow—

How were we supposed to know
Rachel’s nana made her the blanket
we desecrated into the dirt with our mad hazy starlit ritual

You told me you loved him but that you needed me—when I came inside you pulled me in as tight as you could—I slept on my own on the couch & saw your myspace three months later still together



Old friends

I once had a friend
who was a paedophile
It’s just a phase I swear 

Someone found his stash
at a gaming party
when he passed out first
we all saw what he thought was hidden

We didnt even know how to react—
so we made fun of him and called him a CPA ’til he figured it out—

He used to wish me a happy birthday on 11/11,
was the last of my old friends that did so

But when I’d get drunk—I’d get loud—I’d
get crazy, unpredictable and insane—
and he would shush me to be quiet
like he was still afraid
after all that time
I’d write this poem out loud
for everyone to hear

Ashley (how I learned I was sadistic)

I thought of you
when I clipped this carabineer
 to my hip

I never really thought you were attractive
probably because you were younger than me
 and blonde

Your hips were wide
but your jeans just kinda sunk
 down into your legs

You came to Florida from Massachusetts
smoked Marlboro reds
 scenecut studbelt blueyed girl

We used to knock down lamp posts
in your half-built neighborhood
 ’cause they were hardly bolted in at all

Sang Where I end and you begin
with the windows open
 stoned & speeding on the way home

After a couple of years 
your old friend Seamus
 came to visit for a week

He was looking for a mindfuck
asking everyone for mushrooms at the party
 ’cause he could never get them back home

Some kid rolled up in a Buick with a paper bag half-full
of fresh pasture picked cubensis
 asking twenty but was talked down to fifteen

He was already wasted
I hadn’t noticed it until then
 but he was also hideously in love

We tried to warn him not to mix the two
but there was no stopping that
 chain reaction of excess

Or maybe we
wanted him to learn
 the hard way

‘Cause when it peaked upon him
for the very first time
 he was brought to his knees

All he could do was profess his undying love for you
in the empty park mindlooping
 sometime after midnight

There kneeling in the thick grass
we sat next to each other
 on the bench amused at this display

He practically vomited that he loved you
and that he always had, over and over,
 like the words were caught in a circuit

“No you don’t, Seamus, shut up, you’re just fucked up.”
You told him
 with a sly smirk and a sideways exhale

Never before, and never again,
my hands were all over your small tits
 and my tongue was in your drunk mouth

We were on fire
and he began to cry
 unable to believe his eyes

The more he suffered
at our feet
 the more we felt alive