Monday, March 31, 2008

Sunday Afternoon

Smoked German Sausage
an inch and a half in diameter
this sucker is thick
just off the grill
still hissing

NCAA tournament on TV
Elite Eight
the cliche fits--
David vs Goliath.

and each bite is smothered with grilled onions
and the game is back-and-forth deep threes quick drives pumping fists
and the bun is covered in cream cheese and spicy brown mustard
and it's four o'clock
and I still haven't gotten dressed
and the house is empty
and I can barely get my mouth around this sausage
and Davidson is beating Kansas
and Kanas is beating Davidson
and David picks up another stone
and it finds it's mark
and Kansas is reeling
and it's Sunday afternoon
and I don't have to work tomorrow
and everything is just


Thursday, March 27, 2008

Hungry Ducks

the man on the park bench
had been sitting there
picking some sort of meat
out of his teeth for 15 minutes

he'd pick and pick and pick
until he got a real nice chunk
give it a good inspection
then throw it back in the grinder

normally people of his generation
come to parks to feed ducks
and make awkward conversation

not him
he came to examine
and finish his dinner

Maybe he wanted to die in the park
and that was why he came here
to sit and wait for death

It had to be on his mind
his hand was shaking as he picked out the meat
death was in those shakes

15 minutes turned into an hour
and the ducks went unfed
and the young women pushing strollers
went by without even having to acknowledge the old man
who was still there
shakily picking meat out of his teeth.

Monday, March 17, 2008

Saint Thomas

So here is a brand new one. Inspired by a Bruce Beasely poem. This probably isn't finished, but I think it is close. I've been tripping around this poem ever since I started writing, it feels good to have written it. (oh and don't forget to post prompts if you have them). I promise my next post will be a lighter subject.

Thomas was not going to be taken in
not after what had happened
not after every one of his hopes
had gone up in smoke
in a single day

When his friends told him
he said unless I see
the imprint of nails in his hands,
put my finger in the holes in hands
and put my hand in his side
I will not believe

We doubters understand
what is to look at faith
with envy

We cling to stories
play them in our head
until their our own

The women who fought the crowd
just to touch the hem of His garment
because she believed

The centurion who told Jesus
just say the word
and my servant will be healed

We doubters have written one story
on the inside of our eyelids

A man came to Jesus
asked him to heal his son
Jesus said
all things are possible
to him who believes

the man replied
Lord, I believe
help my unbelief

We doubters have been repeating those words
two millenia and counting
chewed them up like tums
to calm our stomachs
repeated them until they become a mantra
until our voices are hoarse
until the unbelief is helped

Thomas knew
the cure for his unbelief

When Christ came to him
Thomas must have felt his stomach churning
as the color sank from his face
seeped down to his feet

His knees had to be shaking
eyes had tearing up

He could not have known what to do--
Christ guided him, took his hand
Reach here with your finger
and see my hands,
reach here with your hand
and put it into my side
and believe

In church the faithful sing songs
imagining what they will do
when they get to heaven
running, dancing and singing

When I meet Him
face to face
my knees will shake
my eyes will tear
and my stomach will churn
as He takes my hand and says

Reach here with your finger
and see my hands,
reach here with your hand
and put it into my side
and believe

I imagine the line
will be long.

Wednesday, March 12, 2008

Me and God

-This was in last years Jeopardy magazine, that made me very very happy. Soon enough, I'll start posting more new material.

When I pray, me and God go hiking
we run up mountains
skip rocks
climb trees
and stare off into space

When I pray, we play
we have homerun derbies
create small towns with mud and rocks
we get dirty and drink juice boxes
me and God, we laugh

When I pray, I drown
the weight of what I don't understand
pushes into my lungs
flailing stops
and strong hands take hold

When I pray, God walks with me
we sing country songs
take pictures and frequent detours

When I pray, God talks plain
uses small words
short sentences
His face is expressive

Tuesday, March 11, 2008

Retirement Plan

I’ve been building a house
in your eye.

Pueblo style
on the edge of your pupil.

Someday I’ll retire there,
sit quiet and still.

At the edge of the dark
I’ll wait for echoes.

Sunday, March 9, 2008


So I'm really lousy at writing prompts and writing poems from prompts. This is something I would like to improve upon. I changed my blog so anyone can leave comments. I am well aware not many people read this, but of the ones who do I think it would be cool to involve them more. So if you have any good prompt ideas you should leave them as comments on this post. In about two weeks I'll chose 4 (assuming that there are 4 to chose from), post those prompts as a post and then anyone who wants to can post their poems written from that prompt. I will of course be participating as well.

Possibly, we could all vote on which poem we like most and the can receive the coveted Mooty award.

Saturday, March 8, 2008

With Respect to Hank Scorpio

Your chimp has betrayed you.
There is no hope.
The laser will split you in twain
while I wait for my tea to cool.
Your wife will be taken care of.

Wind Damage- Ryan Johnson

I think this poem is bad-ass. I realize not many people read this, but the ones who do I think will be happy to read this.

Its been windy lately, one morning
we found a tree fallen on a PT Cruiser
parked along Indian St.
Branches lay on streets, across power lines,
in my backyard, greyed by dead moss and old rain.
They're scattered there, in my yard, not enough
to cover the grass, just enough to be noticed for a moment
before the landlord scoops them up this weekend.

Like the branches I remember laying sparsely
about a graveyard I wandered through
in the afternoon a few years ago.
I found a headstone, some name I don't remember,
born 1930, died 1933.
This child's parent's must have
been distraught, their minds overwhelmed
back when it happened.
But now, they are buried in the same dirt as him -- or her
I don't remember.

When we saw the Cruiser supporting the fallen tree
with its hideous purple mass, a friend laughingly
commented on the pure justice of God.
I smiled and wondered how there wasn’t more damage.

Friday, March 7, 2008


she was all shivers in the corner
hadn't eaten in weeks
fur soaked with urine
head between her legs

if her life were a movie
it would be well into the credits
somewhere around the key grip

Jay and I looked at eachother
then back at her
she was the one
we liked

Jay picked her up by the horns
tossed her in the wheel barrow
I hauled her up to the woods
while he went for bullets

first shot: her legs waved wildly
like she was trying to run
second shot: her right hind leg kept going
third shot: the leg slowed and stopped

I went back to the trailer
sucked down a High Life
smoked my pipe
vultures circled the property for a week

Tuesday, March 4, 2008

Edmonds Marina

The sound laps against gravel
we lick our ice cream
looking at boats
point out the ones we like
think of where we would take them

We Imagine a life drifting down the coast
summer's in Alaska, Christmas in Cabo
dreams slip from our tongues
while we wait for the sun to crown the Olympics

June in Washington means a long wait
but time is something we have
we balance on drift wood,
skip stones, and chase sea gulls

High school is over
we are blank sheets
without rent, jobs or curfews
flowers un-wilted

Some of us will dry out in kitchen windows
bent over from broken marriages and mortgage payments
some will fall through paper shredders in cubicles
making spreadsheets with astronomy degrees

Some of us will never believe in anything again
suck in carcinogens and cheap beer
and wait for a fairy tale ending
to convert us from pessimism

Some of us will be preserved
pressed between the pages of our favorite books
waiting tables and writing
a life somewhere else

Some of us will never have the chance to wilt
collapse under a mountain of debt and pain killers
or falloff dorm-room balchonies with bloodshot eyes
bodies found the next morning

Some of us will burn out
give up on the straight and narrow
and good posture
slouch into a whiskey-soda

Most of us will lose our color
looking back on days like today
wish we could spend forever
on beaches and sunsets

Right now we hang on monkey bars
go down slides and play catch
squint as the last sun beam escapes
through the cracks of the Olympics

Past Due

I am 12 months pregnant
with the things I've wanted to tell you
my belly is swollen
my face glows when I'm around you
I pull a Moses
bag over my head
to hide the conspicuous luminescence
the bag keeps the lies secret

Like that time when I first met you
I said I like your shoes
what wanted to tell you
was that you were so beautiful
I could puke

Or that time I said
the stars reminded me of your eyes
what I wanted to say
was that your eyes reminded me
of the Light of Elendil
which Frodo used to fight of Shelob
on the steps of Cirith Ungol
in his quest to destroy the ring of power

One time I even wanted make an analogy
about your earrings
that involved Geoducks,
and Monsters destroying city skylines at sunset

I may be a coward
but there are reasons for me not speaking my mind
regardless of my reasons
I know that a day is coming
when my water will break
and a tidal wave of awkwardness
will sweep you far from me
into the arms of someone
whose compliments and sweeter, kinder and most importantly
don't reference fantasy novels

When that does happen
I want you to know:
if you were covered pastrami
in a bizarre sandwich shop accident
then were attacked by a hive giant honeybees
until your body swelled up to 150 % it's normal size
and you had a case of pink-eye

You're smile would still leave me

Woman at the Well

It was hot
kind of hot that made sitting in the shade
complaining about the heat with no shirt on
sucking on a high life
a full day

kind of heat they tell geriatrics
and small children to avoid

kind of heat that leads to day dreams
of sleeping in a king size bed of Otterpops

if He had driven out here
there would be marks on His legs
from where he peeled them off
of vinyl seats

this was the middle nowhere
twelve miles from the nearest inn
slurpees still a couple millennia away

He needed a drink.

right now,
He wished he didn’t live in a desert
He wondered why he had taken up the company
of so many slack jawed yokels
blue collar tools with small vocabularies

they told Him to wait
apparently they forgot
who the leader of their operation was
he was the Hannibal to their A-team
a fact they'd do well to remember

they told Him to wait
because apparently there was
a woman of ill repute
a lady with loose morals

as if He would be embarrassed
they were an uppity bunch

if the son of Man was thirsty
the son of Man was going to get a drink
even if the well was in the middle of a brothel
frequented by Hitler, Ted Bundy, Nero
and the defensive line of the 1985 Bears

it was a hot day and He was thirsty
He was going to get a drink of water.

Socrates and John the Baptist

Socrates and John the Baptist got in a fist fight
breathed fire
swung wildly
pulled beards
shouted and screamed

kicked up a dust storm
that was seen for miles.
St. Peter broke the fight up.
John the Baptist had a bloody nose
Socrates lost an ear
swallowed whole by the locust eater.

After the fight
Socrates heard crickets everywhere he went
quit his philosopher job
went into pest control.