"Bling" is the Oxford English Dictionary's word of the day for December 29th, 2016. I had a hard time finding the beginning of this poem. I'm not sure it coheres. But it does a thing. And it's mostly a true thing.
Bling
The top of the Hostess Cupcake sparkles - mica
on the surface of a road - salt crystals suspended in slush -
the color of your lips after gloss
On the package << PARTIALLY PRODUCED WITH GENETIC ENGINEERING. >>
the DNA code of the icing rumbles on - is eaten
which of the 43 ingredients isn't modified
There is a word for a question meant to get to the root of the matter
and for that moment when someone refuses to answer -
it is named for a character in Goethe's Faust
I mean - we eat them anyway -
Earlier there was a low-flying plane over the apartment complex
and it was noteworthy for the propellers on its wings
even the homeless men stared at it in silence
I grew up around planes - I know when they are searching
but I never knew what
Showing posts with label homeless. Show all posts
Showing posts with label homeless. Show all posts
29 December 2016
24 August 2016
Poem-A-Day #177 : It Has Taken Me A Long Time But I Am Ready
It Has Taken Me A Long Time But I Am Ready
His hands are the color of leather
This is wrong I know it is because it feels like theft
He reaches through the empty space of the window
I hand him the three dollars that I have decided I don't need today
I am cheap - smug - airing of family secrets
I have come to my own words for absolution
and perhaps this is the worst part of it
I want to tell him that I am sorry but I tell him to be safe which is the same thing as sorry
My own fears of poverty - I am poor - will probably die poor
but I have a roof and sometimes food
and since I don't have hands that look
like they are coated in coal I am obviously better
I do not tell him more
and I sit and wait to turn the car into traffic in a silence that builds behind my ears like cicadas storming in their trees
Better than - all my life I have felt the pressure
of somehow climbing a ladder that wasn't even before me
a ladder that no one told me I could even climb
They are screaming
I wanted to sound better and look better
I put on that drag and do my business every day
The cicadas want me to know this as I drive my car into traffic
they need me to hear these words as I listen to my music
and think about my day before me
It is a weight
cheap - smug - and trying not to be noticed as such
I am like this man with the dirty hands sitting on a corner by a McDonald's
I am this man sitting with a cardboard sign that says HUNGRY / PLEASE HELP
His hands are the color of leather
This is wrong I know it is because it feels like theft
He reaches through the empty space of the window
I hand him the three dollars that I have decided I don't need today
I am cheap - smug - airing of family secrets
I have come to my own words for absolution
and perhaps this is the worst part of it
I want to tell him that I am sorry but I tell him to be safe which is the same thing as sorry
My own fears of poverty - I am poor - will probably die poor
but I have a roof and sometimes food
and since I don't have hands that look
like they are coated in coal I am obviously better
I do not tell him more
and I sit and wait to turn the car into traffic in a silence that builds behind my ears like cicadas storming in their trees
Better than - all my life I have felt the pressure
of somehow climbing a ladder that wasn't even before me
a ladder that no one told me I could even climb
They are screaming
I wanted to sound better and look better
I put on that drag and do my business every day
The cicadas want me to know this as I drive my car into traffic
they need me to hear these words as I listen to my music
and think about my day before me
It is a weight
cheap - smug - and trying not to be noticed as such
I am like this man with the dirty hands sitting on a corner by a McDonald's
I am this man sitting with a cardboard sign that says HUNGRY / PLEASE HELP
24 July 2016
Poem-A-Day #146 : 42
I still think about this man. He showed me where he had also been bitten by the brown recluse spider. Where the infection was boring a hole into his arm. Turning flesh into puss.
And I still charged him.
This poem is a reminder. I think of this man every time I feel my humanity slip.
42 (11/1/04)
He said his daughter died
That the service would be on Halloween
That she was bitten by a spider
while they lived on the streets
His jacket is too big for him
He is thirsty and wants a soda
I charge him for it
$1.60 for carbonated orange juice
I feel nothing until November
when, while standing at dawn
in a field
I realize I am cold
That I paid money to be cold
That I am in a field
in the mountains
by choice
And I charged him for a soda
the day before
he put his daughter in the earth
And I still charged him.
This poem is a reminder. I think of this man every time I feel my humanity slip.
42 (11/1/04)
He said his daughter died
That the service would be on Halloween
That she was bitten by a spider
while they lived on the streets
His jacket is too big for him
He is thirsty and wants a soda
I charge him for it
$1.60 for carbonated orange juice
I feel nothing until November
when, while standing at dawn
in a field
I realize I am cold
That I paid money to be cold
That I am in a field
in the mountains
by choice
And I charged him for a soda
the day before
he put his daughter in the earth
10 March 2016
Poem-A-Day #10 : Fragile
Fragile
At the counter the man was bleeding had on dark glasses was holding himself in a way to make him invisible but he was clearly there he fumbled his wallet and struggled to see through the swollen eye and finally took his glasses off
He said he got jumped
At the counter the man was mumbling incoherent was probably drunk his clothes looked like they slept in a gutter he was picking at a large oozing wound on his arm the skin was turning white around the edges there was a smell of death in the room
He said he was bitten by a brown recluse
At the counter the man tried to say 'coffee' but his voice caught in its throat and rattled he managed to order but spilled it on the floor his head was wrapped again and again and again in white gauze his eye was shot through with red his face was purple
He didn't say anything
At the counter the man was bleeding had on dark glasses was holding himself in a way to make him invisible but he was clearly there he fumbled his wallet and struggled to see through the swollen eye and finally took his glasses off
He said he got jumped
At the counter the man was mumbling incoherent was probably drunk his clothes looked like they slept in a gutter he was picking at a large oozing wound on his arm the skin was turning white around the edges there was a smell of death in the room
He said he was bitten by a brown recluse
At the counter the man tried to say 'coffee' but his voice caught in its throat and rattled he managed to order but spilled it on the floor his head was wrapped again and again and again in white gauze his eye was shot through with red his face was purple
He didn't say anything
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