November 20, 2012

poem 424 of a poem a day for 2012

no amount of salve can cure the meat

my back bone has left
my soul desiccating
in a scour of windy apathy
and video game surveillance
the balance sheets
are on the clothing rack
I use nudity
as a blind technique
stripping emotion
from the experience
of my humanity

I turn the key
in the ignition
the dusty dashboard
and streaked glass
of the windshield
says you are unclean Edward
and I have no response
other than to look away
for something else to think about
in the spiny arms of trees

occasionally, a crow
will hunker down and caw
as I drive by headed
to the convenience store
for a beer and some tobacco
I am in no way mentally competent
but that doesn't mean
I don't know how it all works
I declare myself crazy
but not in those words you see
everyone still sees crazy
as some badge of honor
you have to turn
to pharmacology
and their agents
the white coats
and early bed times

you have to say you want to kill
you have to say you want to die 
and only at that moment
can you be taken in
can you be medicated
beyond your own two hands
on the wheel driving
to parts of town
everyone warns you about
where the streetlights are dimmer
and the figures figure you out
by how repeated this cycle is
waiting watching wading catching
what tides between any sort of demise
and closing your eyes to lean back
into an exhale of another piece
of your serenity 20 dollars at a time



  1. some grit to this man...i think on some level we are all crazy...or maybe just crazy on different far do you have to go to get help too...i catch that in this...

  2. WHOA...HO...I clicked on your site and that thing nearly poked my eye out! Liked the poem too, by the way. Especially:

    I am in no way mentally competent/but that doesn't mean/I don't know how it all works

  3. If I know I'm going crazy then I must not be insane. Twenty dollars at a time is probably cheaper than what they'd charge you to swallow their chemical cocktails that do nothing but ensure you're truly dead to your environments. You'd be surprised at the disguises angels can wear...sometimes they come in the form of a pen...I, quite honestly, thought this fantastic.