ant

 

Haiku for smoke detector

something in the hall

chirps every thirty seconds

dirge for Duracell 

Lightning Bugs

Being a writer is being a catcher

A catcher of light in a jar

You never get better

You never get good

Just depends how many there are 

The bugs that shine light

They come or they don’t 

There’s no knowing how many, how bright 

Your job’s to just sit there 

And welcome them enter

Then screw the lid on fucking tight 

The Wilds

I hear crickets out my window now in Brooklyn

And there’s certainly no place I’d rather be

I won’t be heading to the wilds very soon so,

I’m just happy that the wilds came to me

MARBLES

I pick up a marble from a bowl
on my coffee table 
and try to remember. 
Was this mine as a kid?
Did I fish it out of the mud one rainy day?
This orange and white marble is a shooter. 
It’s large, important. 
Is it supposed to mean something to me?
I’ve had it for years. 
Or have I?
Things get fuzzy like that 

when they are left in a bowl on the coffee table for too long.

LOVE

For some, love unfolds like a silk blanket 

over freshly mown grass 

on a balmy June day.
For some, love rolls out like a red carpet 

to blaring trumpet music 

and flying rose petals.
For some, love is built plank by plank, 

bravely joining two lands 

and making them one.
For some, love is like a 5th grader’s secret note 

having been forgotten in the pocket of her jeans

washed and tumble dried 

into a thickly layered chunk.
When unfolded, only deteriorating, indecipherable, 

light blue BIC pen hatching or question marks remain.
Dust and bits, 

dust and bits. 

Lint and confusion 

covered in 

melted strawberry 

chapstick wax.

It started with your hand on my cheek

It started with your hand on my cheek

It was warm

And it sung

It ended with your hand on my cheek

It was hot

And it stung

And in between 

An army of scarlet banners waving

In the spotlight, Gaslight, 

Your best friend described the love of your life 

who was not me 

but looked like me

apparently

The one you told me 

liked it when you hit her 

She asked for you to hit her. 

And I felt sad for her 

For you, for the things you said she made you do

So when you reached back way back reached back to your childhood back back back 

to the first naked humiliation 

reached back further yet to your father's and his father's pain 

and wrapped your fist around it and made it fly across my skull

I knew. 

I knew

You were back back back 

with the love of your life 

And practicing that ritual that was at your disposal

With her

And trying to practice it on me at the same time.