LiVE
Mag!

Don’t Eat A Pen! (when you italicize words)

"Parlez-moi d’Amour…"

A doorbell rings.
A phone rings.
A floor shines

"More storms, please!"

Walking inside
invisible (un)readable books
on War & Peace,

I scream in someone else’s voice
to feel my skull & lungs.

A girl, wearing her father’s shirt,
fooling herself, waiting
for another downpour

is not me.

“Rules for a sonnet?”
I have no idea.

(Don’t) beat the dog
that barks at the sticky unpleasantness
of the master who feeds him! Let him sink

in his own sweat,
so he’ll become a “Muse-Ripping” floor mop.

“Notes of anguish?” Where are they?

Roses on a fence
peak their redness.

“Nothing” death hangs in the air
when we talk about love.

One Way Dialogue With Delmore

Do you mind me using the word: “fun”
to describe your bagatelles?

Hope not.

Ego? What ego?
I don’t own wheels.
I don’t drive.

Rain keeps falling on us
as if it’s the end of something.

We save your “inside” stories gulped in a deluge.
We toast them in the oven to dry.

“Shower or Bath?”
You are lucky to have such a choice.
What about the ones who have neither?

Watch out!
Be gentle!
Pages have become too crisp to turn.
They fall like leaves.

A desire to write a “good” poem?
What is “good”?
You tell me.

“fun” or “good” —
Who knows!
All poems are full of (un)just words,
no matter.

So, let’s not get ourselves bored to death,
even if the rain doesn’t stop.

Don’t you think that’s an idea?