Another Silly Sunrise

Just dragged the trash can

through the snow to the curb.

lol.

I made a hockey bet 

on the New Jersey Devils;

they lost and I yelled

Devils to myself.

lol.

Went to Arby's 

and they now have 

a small peach cobbler desert,

which was Troy Foyil's fave.

lol.

small mercies like these

are the best, because

when you count them,

they outnumber the depressing days.

lol.

these little victories, 

like Arby's

and another silly sunrise

add up.

Just a cute little slice of my night...

"Last Caress" by Misfits comes on.

I turn it up, along with the heat. 

It is cold in South Florida.

And I am waiting for my daughter

to get out of a pool party. 

I forgot my beanie.

My bald head is what is making me cold. 

And lack of white blood cells. 

I hope my daughter brings me a slice of cake.

A bunny hops in the dark front yard.

My daughter and her friends climb into the backseat.

I turn down the Misfits.

"Dad, can we drive Izzy and Jemma home?"

"Of course. Hey, y’all!"

Jemma asks if we can go to Chipotle.

No.

LOL.

They giggle the whole ride.

About Molly starting drama.

And boys being annoying. 

We drop Jemma off.

Making sure she gets inside ok. 
We drop Izzy off.

Making sure she gets inside ok. 

My daughter fills me in.

on the rest of hot gossip.

which is just silly, adorable.

middle school girl stuff.

I ask her if she swam. 

She says the pool was too cold.

I ask her if she ate.

They had Domino's. 

She didn't bring me any cake.  

Poem

I wanna do cocaine

with Kelly Munday

listen to Bayside

and vibe out.

life cycle of the roses

look at these beautiful things 

with these thorny legs to them 

and [the story of this] blossom 

that goes on and then dies.

reminders that we’re not living in a completely industrial hellscape.

sunrises.
birds.
music.
coffee.

pizza exists!
and chocolate chip cookies.
laughter.
making love.

poetry.
pottery.
fuck it, Pottery Barn!
a couch you didn’t earn but will nap on anyway.

the ocean.
the trees.
the backs of beautiful girls’ knees.
that soft place where summer rests.

handwritten notes.
late trains that still get you home.
dogs who forgive immediately.
Taco Bell!

old movies on sick days.
used bookstores that smell like dust and hope.
pay phones that won’t work but still listen.

wasting time in record stores. 

shared fries.

pancakes for the table!
extra guac.
stretching in the morning without pain.

cheap wine in real glasses.

expensive champagne in red solo cups. 
a song that knows your childhood.
a green light all the way through town.

windows open at night.
rain that doesn’t ask permission.
sleep that arrives unannounced.

an empty row on an airplane.

warm laundry.
something you thought you lost.
finding money in old coats.
inside jokes that survive decades.

the first sip of cold water.
the last slice nobody claimed.
stretch marks that tell the truth.

forgiveness that sneaks up on you.

sirens that fade instead of arrive.
a voicemail you never delete.
library cards.

love!

bare feet on tile.
a good pen.
crossing something off a list.

underlined sentences that underline you.

the smell of fresh bread.
the sound of a screen door shutting in autumn.
the luxury of boredom.

plans canceled kindly.

holding hands at red lights.
laughing in the wrong place.
crying in the right one.
silence that isn’t lonely.

a stranger saying bless you.

weather that matches your mood.
someone remembering your name.
leftovers that taste better.

late sunsets.

early mercy.

love.

love!

Books that poke through plastic bags

I don’t want videos of
people getting shot in Minnesota.
I want books that argue with death.

I bought some classics
at Five Below
A Christmas Carol
and Frankenstein.

A book of criticism
at Barnes & Noble
by the mall.

Some randos
from Dollar Tree
off Route 441.

I fake reiki
in the false calm
of January.

I don’t like knowing
my actions will shape my daughter.

And I don’t like knowing
that even my best ones
will still hurt her
a little.

So I buy books
to be better,
and show her that life
is about learning.

New New Year’s Resolution

Don’t match other people’s energy—
some of it is radioactive,
some of it runs on panic
and cheap applause.

I will guard my frequency
like a small, stubborn flame,
warm enough to keep going,
not loud enough to burn the house down.

This year I choose response over reflex,
breath over bravado,
and the quiet power
of staying myself.

icesk8er88 Apologist

what's it like living in sugar hill?

or do you say The Heights

cuz its cooler?

I bought drugs

in St. Nicks Park once,

and a Lacoste jacket

on 140th and Malcom X Blvd.

but thats Striver's Row.

if you live up there,

ya gotta listen to Big L,

the best rapper to never

make it big. 

have you been to Mama's Too?

one of my favorite pizza places.

It's a little south of you

on Broadway between 106th and 105th.

these are the dumb things

I would say to you

if you ever called.

I'd apologize 

but avoid the past, 

and cancer crap. 

we can never be together

but I wish we could be friends

and hook up every now and then.

Stolen Notes Towards Something...

with summer breath,
Ronda, Spain,
heat caught in stone,
your laugh echoing off the gorge
like it knew it would be remembered.

some pregnancy, perhaps,
a phrase held lightly,
as if saying it too loudly
might make the future flinch.

July on Enders Island, forthcoming,
days stretched thin as salt air,
nothing urgent,
everything important.

portrait of winter out west,
light slanting across distance,
cold enough to tell the truth
without cruelty.

between us unraveled,
not a breaking,
just threads loosened
so we could see the pattern.

below your uprooting,
roots exposed,
soil still clinging,
learning what stays when the ground changes.

living in DC with you, forthcoming,
an address we haven’t memorized yet,
already folded
into the word home.

I made Reggie Watts crack up in this episode of Bothering the Band!

The Varna System

Believe me...

From the colors of my spring

to the Kshatriyas.

From the easy evil

to Roland Flint.

From cancer

to Diogenes.

...I wanna believe like a child.

Going to the Oncologist on Groundhog Day

Drove to Boca 100 times today,

passed a Thai place in Deerfield Beach

where a gorgeous girl works. 

Forgot to send her

my favorite Tom Petty song

back in 2023. 

She still thinks her job defines her,

and I still think 

I could bartend. 

I am so glad I don't 

work in a restaurant

in 2026.

The service in South Florida sucks;

it's mostly girls in leggings calling me 'bruh'

or boys in shorts scrolling their phones.

I pass an Arby's 

and crank up 'Walls' by Tom Petty, 

from the "She's The One" soundtrack.

I read her poems

in the waiting room,

with my mask and beanie on. 

Cancer should change me

like a giant epipheral party

in my egoless soul.

But I can still be petty,

especially in traffic, 

with no place to put good news.

Life Starts From Here

I hope you can tell,

at least from the poems,

that I am trying

to be a better man.

Title: Heartburn

my spirit animal
is a cheese-addicted coyote
with acid reflux
always on the verge
of a panic attack.

he steals from dumpsters behind taco bells,
howls at the moon like it owes him money,
believes every siren is personal,
every shadow a diagnosis,
every burp a prophecy of doom.

still—
he keeps moving.
heart on fire, stomach in revolt,
limping through the night with crumbs on his mouth,
convinced the next bad decision
might save his life.

Curiosity #183

Whether it’s in a week

Or a wonderful forty more years,

I'm curious what people will say 

About me when I am gone…

But ultimately,

I do not

Really want 

To know. 

 

Wanna wear hotdog costumes and go play ski-ball?

I find myself

getting annoyed 

at the little things.

The self-checkout lanes,

because it feels 

like work!

I wish there were

a pill for that,

because I do not like it. 

How I have to log in

to everything 

all the time!

It's okay,

I knew she'd

never call. 

But I didn't know

I'd get super annoyed

at the wind!

And here I am writing 

an annoying poem

with a dumb title. 

supervene

I like your Mary Oliver style poems,

but I'd rather read your real voice.

The autumnal oaks speak

to the happy half moon

under which serpents 

swallow their tales.

Might as well cue the Dave Matthews

and read Infinite Jest while you're at it. 

The river rides the horizon,

like a roller coaster of time,

carving up the mountains

in the image of eternity.

Sure, every twig is important,

but when's the last time you snapped a twig on your thigh?

Poem

Catherine O'Hara died.

This is the worst day ever.

Despite having cancer.

For the second time.

In two years,

This is the saddest.

I have been in a while. 

Ghost Garden

the lilies sprang up
where the homes were torn down.
the lavender lingers
where love was left behind.

the roses remember
names no one says anymore,
and bees hum through empty air
as if someone is listening.

at dusk, the soil exhales grief,
roots holding what we couldn’t,
a garden grown from ghosts
that still know how to bloom.

Boise Noise

meet me in Boise.

middle of the country,

middle of our lives,

where nothing’s supposed to happen

and somehow does.

we will go to a dive bar.

low ceiling, bad lighting,

a jukebox that still believes in itself.

the bartender will have the eyes

of someone who’s seen worse

and kept the lights on anyway.

we’ll drink cheap

like we’re arguing with time.

laugh too loud.

pretend the past doesn’t exist.

it’ll sit between us anyway.

quiet,

like an unpaid tab,

like a scar that doesn’t ache

but never shuts up.

we’ll talk about nothing.

weather. music.

who moved away.

who didn’t make it.

who got sensible and disappeared.

this is the middle—

not the climax, not the wreckage,

just the long chord you hold

because you forgot how the song ends.

outside, Boise hums—

traffic, neon,

some kid starting a band in a garage

because rage still needs somewhere to go.

we won’t fix each other.

we won’t promise shit.

we’ll just sit there,

two bodies proving

we didn’t imagine everything.

meet me in Boise.

we’ll make noise

quiet enough to survive.

Poem

If I beat this cancer,

I want to start 

a 4-piece punk rock band,

just to scream.

Bothering the band went face-to-face with N8NOFACE!