Tuesday, October 26, 2010

Abandoned Issues,

As soon as I understood that there was a dead brother,

I became obsessed with finding him,

I must have learned about Erick

Around the same time I learned about reincarnation.

And hypocrisy.

And statistics.

Edgar Cayce.

And religious war.

Not to mention Dr. Spock and jelly jars.

Expectations drinking wine.

Charted life goals digging diamonds.

Jim dear, Darling.

Guess who’s coming?

The one’s who suffer, wrap in water,

Soft sculled best friends sharing blood banks.


Over there.

Antique drum circles propped up sideways on mahogany buffets for decoration,

Never to be played.

Just filling a space,

For other people to look at and say,


I sure wish that was me.

I was much older when I learned that Erick was part of the reason my parents couldn't stay.

And older still when I learned that I was part of all these reasons and swan songs.

And scoured pots and missing keys.

What do they do with their wedding rings once it’s all over?

Just rattle it around a sock drawer?

I’m sure that everyone regrets having children at some point.

I’m sure that everyone turns around and says,

Now what?

I’m sure that the hair stops growing under the band,

Like the bald ankle inside a man’s sock.

But there’s no registration at Target for the marriage of the stillborn and the born.

That role is left undefined as I am left undefined.

Holding Jem’s hand over piles of chilled bones,

I’m Scouting the trenches for possible big brother candidates.

Knowing full well I’ll never get him to stay.

I’m not searching for daddies.

I never wanted a daddy.

I could do without a mother.

And the sister’s have families of their own.

Even their very own suicide,

Immortalized quest,

And levels of wrong.

Maybe we’re all alcoholics.

But, if we’re looking for the first thing that we lost,

The first thing would have to be the blue baby with the Viking name.

And the half brothers are solid









I want an older all mine

Tyrannosaurus Rex.

It’s not fair what I do to these poor innocent born people.

They’re just trying to fill out their own rabbit black holes.

I have always been guilty of loving too much.

I call it eczema,

It’s really organs worn on the outside.












I have to say it takes the wind

It takes the dog

It takes the car

(Down the stairs, and out the back, bye bye, be safe, don’t fall, don’t grow, for that)

It wears moccasins, and calls me names, and rides me home. It wets the grapes, it’s never mad.

My Heart,

Skin/Toast/Mockingbird Killed

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