I've Been Waiting (from "A Slip Of The Tongue")

in this small room
second floor
staring through screen windows
as the wind blows through.
the mountains rise
and the telephone poles reach like fences
into the horizon.
this whole view, this yellow dried death of
Arizona
pulls the gaze out from me
and into the memories that have resurfaced
today.

the time is 3:14pm
and the wind howls and haunts this
afternoon.

beyond those mountains
is another life,
and I saw on the news this morning that
a group of illegals got gunned down by an
unidentified vehicle carrying a machine gun.
some crazy asshole opened fire on a van of 25 illegals,
and some of the victims were children.
there were some who died, but the rest
rode the van for miles until it broke down
and they went by foot the rest of the way.

this small room
is safe
and I am
here
and these mountains here
bring down the whole
sky.

while I slept comfortably this morning
there were desperate illegals
getting shot to death
to take hold of this.

and all I can do here
is sit
and write
and
wait.

View Poem (posted 6:17 PM)  Leave Comment (1 comments)

I Don't Know What Else To Say (from "A Slip Of The Tongue")

really,
the river has run dry
the ink is dull
nights and days run together and I have grown
bored with all of this.
and in me
an unending night has opened like a flower
to let the demons file rank
to my door.
the snails have rotted in their shells.
the frogs have choked on the flies.
the world has turned gray
and my finger nails continue to grow long
and I look at them and debate and debate
when I will cut them.
the TV is a blank screen.
the internet is a question.
technology has become a familiar
whore.
I am sick with all of this,
and even a short vacation to the mountains cannot cure
this.
another drink
another drink,
more bottles and
hours and
days.
when the demons make their move
when they come for me
I will ask them
in that hour:

this life that I have been living,
is this what death
is like?

View Poem (posted 5:52 PM)  Leave Comment (0 comments)

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