Breakfast with Mom and Sister – October 15 2017

This morning while having breakfast, my mom and sister asked about my poetry book.
“What even is a poetry book?” My sister asked. So I pulled a bunch of books off the shelf in my bedroom and returned to the kitchen. I pulled Pablo Neruda, Buddy Wakefield, Shel Silverstein, Robert Louis Stevenson.
Then I showed them Rupi Kaur’s book “Milk and Honey”.
“This one is a New York Times bestseller,” I said.
“Maybe that will be you!” Mom said.
My mom honestly thinks that I’ll finally have money if I publish a book. Like all it will take is one publication, then I’ll be famous and the dough will roll right in. LOL MOM NO.

In Response to Housman

I to my perils
came not like A.E. Housman
“clad in armor by stars benign”
I swam to them in my PJs
hair kinked, water logged
and trouble was a bonfire.

Trouble was the thing he kept his mind on huh
Trouble was the thing he took to supermarkets
hoping This was the day
right by the spinach
he could be a true and worthy victor
‘cause his mind was in the game.
did he want to prove himself stronger than us
the mortals who wished for everything sweet

I wished too hard for time to pass
and passing is the great gift and curse of prickly knees.
I tugged myself through marshes by tufts of leg hair
to which I gleamed a shining eye to Hope
I’d not trifle with a fleeting love
or luck money or mock fame.
Turns out every part of me is mortal fool
and Housman took a solo trip to the legends.

Moonshine – draft

in the dark they called me Moonshine
liquor in a glass jar
and the boozy white reflection
of the full moon
on obsidian lakes.
they dub me after back alleys
and a cold view from the docks.
i give them poisoned comfort
i pour pure life into their lungs
before they jump
into chilly water
my dear friends.



you are warmer than fever in
me that was
the wing-ed beast
of legend in
me for
a moment that soft
every where I felt
it was how light
is so fast and
blind to itself.

my body is made
from cheese
I’m cheesy.
In part one of this poem I feel
how light
is so genuine
and fluid
when I’m done
with part one
I’m part two
not shadow
or darkness
I am exactly the myth of the moon
how it’s made of cheese.
How maybe the man on the moon
wishes he were
the man on the moon.