January 6, 2001

Where are they, if no longer at the mens and womens restrooms?
Where are they, if not at Lacks and J. C. Pennys?
Where are they, if no longer hidden in Sams Liquor Mart and Cathys Classic Cuts?
Are they gone forever, or have they just taken the low road,
splicing sentences and breaking up series in the Oxford fashion.
Have they teemed up to quote or partnered with an aspiring period to separate complete thoughts?
Or are they somewhere less conventional, stretching out leisurely atop French vowels or tanning just above the Spanish "n?"

If I ever find them don't worry about me spreading them around.
I will keep them safely guarded, my little punctuative menagerie.
Holding them all, guilt free, knowing I'm the only one left who cares about possession.

January 5, 2009

Give me the cold and rainy days,

The moorish days all black and numb.

Give me the trench coat and mercury days,

The dense gray days of a Bronte novel.

Give me a knife and a bag and a ladder

And I will, with the hilt of the knife,

Cut open the clouds and collect in my bag

The dark drum rumbles of these days.

And there they'll hide, until on some

Garish summer morning when we are all more

Austen than Hawthorne, I will pour out melancholy

Like a swarm and sting us back to sober.

January 4, 2009

All I ask is that you quake,

that you shudder,

that you feel the weight of me

and splinter.

That your porcelain palms

dissolve to dust.

And your china bones,

back to sand.

All I ask is that you

humbly burst into umbilical flame,

pregnant with the knowledge

that I am your god,

that I am your god,

that I am

      your god.

January 3, 2008

In response to my roommate's recent receipt of a solicited advertisement from Harvard School of Divinity.

I am not judging you 

though Lord knows my 

gavel is weighty.

I am not judging you

because I too want the 

fattest calf.

But I can't help but

think in subjects such as faith

your reverence for one name

would surely shadow the other.

I can't help but think that

your view of one crimson

would distract you from another.

I can't help but think

that God-fearing men who reach 

too high, will land a priest

of man-fearing gods.

January 2, 2008

And some of you are doubtlessly already disappointed now that you see January 2nd's post appearing on January 3rd, but you must remember that my promise was only to write a poem a day.  There are times that due to access issues these mediocre poems will appear a day or two late.  

I recently found out that the girl I thought I would always marry is engaged.  I write this to her and the countless other beauties I've waited out for nought.

I wanted to see the underside of

your chin as I, one-kneed, fumbled

for your dime thin ring.

I wanted to see you minutes

before morning, the last night

we kissed in pieces.

I wanted to see your eyes cautiously

glance around the standing congregation

as my heavy breath blew the candles cold.

I wanted to see your hands,

impossibly smooth, as they reached

to steal mine from pocketed purgatory.

I wanted to see the space between

your parted lips that now hold words

you'll only say to him.

January 1, 2009

Re-solution

Tired of weight loss and language acquisition, bored with exercise and more time with the family, uninterested in pottery or better oral care, I've made a new list of resolutions whose success seems as likely as those aforementioned.

This year I resolve to yodel.
Loud and long from Manhattan
to the Matterhorn, I will sing my
mountainous mating song.

This year I resolve to herd cattle.
On a spotted roan sway-back I will
corral dogies from the wild plains
of my city apartment to suitable
and moneyed ranch men

This year I resolve to win a Grammy.
As I take the stage and golden
phonograph I will hold it high
thanking only the New Year for
its endless support and encouragement.

This year I resolve to cast the first
stone, unapologetically and with a
pitcher's authority. I will use it to break
your glass houses and to kill your two birds.

This year I resolve to cure cancer
and AIDS and homosexuality and alcoholism
and insomnia and egoism and apathy
and poverty and peanut allergies.

This year I resolve to end war.
This year I resolve to recycle peace.
This year I resolve to fix us.
This year I resolve to break us again.

This year I resolve to hold this year
like a grape, pull off its sour skin with my teeth
and leave its tasteless meat in the bowl.

And thus, it begins...

In the tired and perhaps egomaniacal way that poets of the past have publicly declared their New Year's resolution to write one poem a day and serve it cold to the waiting patrons of their hot n ready diners, I too have decided to commit to a 365 day poetic practice. I am not claiming that these poems will all be good. It is highly possible that none will be good. I do, however, think that it is high time that I commit to something and see it through. I am counting on the readers of this blog and the dedicated patrons of the far superior WJW to see me through on this adventure. Because of tiem restraints and not having a computer with internet it is possible that I will not be able to post each day. I will, however, give you my Aggie word that if a poem is posted with a date as its title, that poem was written during that day CST. I'm excited about this little journey and the small tribe of travellers who will see it through with me. It is my hope that December 31, 2009 will be a day of accomplishment. May this new dedication to my poetry blog be a path to expression, honesty, and occassional targeted assault on people, places, or things.