poetry

THE CURSE

EMOTE YOU MOTHER FUCKER!

I’m a believer and I believe, oh

I do believe, I do. Nonetheless, it seems

I can’t stop the

overflow from this guttural heart,

the incessant CURSING, it is like

a curse, it really is.

OH GOD, that’s what I say all day,

all night, OH GOD, OH GOD, OH GOD

PLEASE.

HELP.

ME.

And then, I sit down, alone and quiet for the first time

in 24 solid gold hours on

a  cheap stained couch, yearning and I mean YEARNING for

some sort of literary release, that profound moment

that I am we are always searching for, and all

I can think, on repeat, is

this

one

line:

EMOTE YOU MOTHER FUCKER!

It figures, it really does.

Standard
poetry

I got a glimpse

I went to sleep last night cold and under covers, thinking

about the love of god, feeling it

tangible, present, soft breath on my face

air thick, terry cloth,

molecules dance in front of me, I

try to grab them.

I woke up late this morning, all the babies

awake in the other room, living, squirming and

keeping alive

soft air, not thick anymore — but oh —

that radiant sunlight– the aching,

the longing.

“its light get up its day time”

they said.

Standard