Spring Essence Poems 

Fertility breakfast
See the Robin red brest

Chopping up potatoes
Dropping seeds in deep holes

The rain opens the earth
Inhaling pain of birth

Wet spinach on the plate
Forgetting things I hate

Shuffling the papers
Blowing up the flowers

In a big country dreams
The roots dig at the seams

New green around the track
The trains aren’t looking back

Disguise hard to afford
Sunrise is your reward


Major Matt Mason USA Show Poem: March 11, 2017 KC, MO @ Records With Merrit #poetry 

Eddie Monster prom king

The sharpened talons of your pitchfork
Embody your three prong approach
Ready to pierce the perfect skin
Of Innocent young babes
Like a fork through a hot dog’s casing
Over a glowing bed of
Machine mined coals
Roasting on the back yard
Fourth of July

Painfully Pounding out the power points
It is very clear you’d much rather be killing something right now
Decked out in the latest mossy oak couture
The best color corrected camouflage
That tax dollars can buy

Concocting rules with lit sparklers
Clocking the hours
Of repeated speech
In different shades of eye shadow
Poping on screen

You love your life
Because it sucks

While we slowly slip into
Our wet oatmeal mornings
Of long term care
And slow awakenings

You fantasize about us
Poking your muscles
Taking pictures
In the sand
That’s all it is to you now
One big sandbox
Where you lay upon the beach
Oiling your crossbow
And fucking a paper cut out of your life

But fear not
I hear distant seagull cries
Grow closer

You’ve taught us much about ourselves
I’ll give you that
But inside those sweet notes of
Fairness and love
That parents whisper to their children
And the darker exploits
Of the lonely and frail that
You use line your cage
I will never even fake pray for you

Broken Heart Syndrome Show Poem: January 29, 2017 KC, MO @ Holy Cow #poetry 

I’m forgiving you
With every new day
Forgetting you

While you climb the ladder
I’ll hold your legs
Reaching for cookies
Changing light bulbs
Painting walls
Dusting the top shelf

I’ll pound your chest like a drum
Until the last breath slips out

We’ll sharpen the blade together
Mow the lawn on a Sunday morning

We accept ourselves as immigrants
We control the space between us

To herd cats we must first
Learn to ride them

Touching fur to a glass
Skipping down the alter
Sardines and envelope filters
Remembering to bring a sweater
The comfort of static cling

One day we will all be
Caught dead in something

Show Poem: December 16, 2016 KC, MO @ recordBar #poetry 


Photo by Michelle Bacon Life is not a bowl of ice cream
It is not leftovers
It’s not even a fresh stalk of celery
Waiting to be chopped and mingled
In a succulent trinity Dish

Remove the refrigerator door
Let the kids play
There is nothing hidden in the ice
Crack the egg open

Whip yourself if you must
Do not contaminate the dance floor
With ill will

The cold brings sores
The heat cooks meat
Both pass the germs through us

Lifting the clocks
Of our grand fathers
Excavating the thoughts
Of our great grand mothers

Red and green
The stop and go
Of Christmas contradictions

A child is crying for a candy cane
A man is dying in the frozen rain
Let’s make it vanish like David Blaine

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Lessons from this old house
The importance of a wet return

When we are lucky it just happens
No thoughts required

But we are not always lucky
And there are men for those times

Men with breasts and vaginas
Spilling out from their overalls

Hammers and pepper mills
Yo la tengo

Grapefruit spoon
Serrated edge
Scrapes the pulp from
From the soft inner walls

Whose responsible
For all this blood
That first gentrifying coffee

Who’s taping this
Late at night
While the other is asleep

Old Toys

Quiet confidence
A resting animal

Chasing the tadpole
Inside my body

A dog collar in heaven
Starbucks enema
Erect on demand

The meat between the
Wheels and the road

A bird on the other side of the glass

Our future is not a marshmallow
It is liquid sunlight

There is a couch at the
End of the bed
A table and a chair
Paper on the desk

A dim light reminds us
Of of old toys

Sifting through old photographs
Thinking deeply about
Mindsets of the people
In the pictures

We live in the gift

President Trump

I am feeling the rush of anxious emotions that I’m sure most of my good friends are experiencing at this unbelievable turn of events in American History. I am a white, heterosexual, male, feminist, liberal, artist. Not necessarily in that order. I am going through a bit of an inner conflict between my biology and my psychology right now. Every look in the mirror, to some degree, I can’t help but see the face of this painful shift in our political system. But when I look inside myself I am reminded of my friends and I am inspired to the moon by their capacity for love, understanding, and strength. All I want to say is:


It’s going to take a while for all of this to sink in. Maybe it’s going to take four years? I encourage you to allow yourselves all the emotions you are experiencing right now.  Please, remember that you are the same beautiful people you were yesterday, as you are today, as you will be tomorrow. We are going to get through this, together.