There’s more people here Than you might think

image 
There’s more people here
Than you might think 

Pay no attention to swings and poles 

What is the source of your drama
Cars splitting in two?
Born in the wrong body?
Dreams of decapitation?

Neverminding memories.
We must all sit down together
Over a breakfast of our broken eggs 

We share many things

Roasting over the rib pit
Our juices run together 

We must consider
For a moment
The bones we suck on 

When we run
our lungs grow stronger

We share the air
With many tiny things 

A white plague
A plague of pollen
A plague of flowers 

We let go of the
Instincts 

The guilt
For Beating our meat 

We drink in the smoke
Like wine
We dance with the fire
Like a true true
Love 

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Show Poem: Death by more for less… June 12 / Chicago, IL / Auxiliary Arts Center #SchwervonPoetry

Schwervon!

image photo by Michael Fawnsluh

Death by more for less

The shortcomings of self regulation
The saga of self motivation

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Feeding time
You don’t have to go hungry
But you can’t eat here

When love mapping
Beware of buried
Power lines

With all the praise required
God is surely the neediest
Of all beings

I escape the bluebird
With an active mind

Reading into things
Before understanding

The pages of a book
Lapping like waves
On the side of a
Mossy dock

Hill top
Green highways
Black bean burgers
With the ghost of Mark Twain

Lost glasses
In molasses

Eyelids stuck shut
Fields of fuel

Wishing did not feel so
All alone
Learning to eat chicken
On the bone

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I’m starting to believe  The more expensive wine is better

Ground mouth.
I’m starting to believe 

The more expensive wine is better

The papers write themselves 

Numb pinkies

Wake up every morning 

And summon the assistants

Listen to the computer glitches 

Unsweetened dreams 

Dobro in the sun 

Alone time

Walking memories 

The best  ways to help 

Me overcoming Like 

Pictures other people take 

Mixing the wind of 

Tools to break and fix 

To reveal 

weaker and More magical


The Christmas lights
Finally took down

Posing for photographs
Post office penguins

The wrong sized bags for things
I love how you use them

a serial drama
Looking at my time here

Too long
We linger in coffee shoppes

Across the room
listening
to each other

It’s right
How I know

weaker and
More magical

The color on paper

I don’t have to choose
The freedom comes

We listen to the sound.

We have freed ourselves
Of the soldiers
And the tattoo artists.