(Parenthetical)

i don’t want a poem with pushed out words,
one that couldn’t capture the heated moment
of tears she keeps at the corners of her eyes,
a poem that pushes out unbelonging rhymes,
one that couldn’t draw a picture
of her head in my lap,
her sorrow seeping into my knees,
one that will tell me
(teacher’s note signed)
that my daughter has moved
from above average to average

i don’t want a poem
with pushed out thoughts
to taper my emotions back behind me
like my on-fire muscles during workouts,
riding up my back like a hot rope
that i will never pull tight enough

i want a poem like the songs i sing
(out of tune)
my own tears falling willingly
in the dark hours of morning
as i belt out lyrics
with the best of them,
my shaky voice
everything that is
inside and outside of me

i want a poem with well-formed words,
one that will sing to my soul,
make me remember this day
because it is like any other day
(it is unlike any other day)
i will only have it once,
and i want to grab that poem,
squeeze it in my palm,
and suck the bloody juice
until i can taste the truth
of the world found in imperfect poetry

Dreams of Spain

i hope my words are not
lost in translation, but
instead carried on wings of gold
across the sea,
where my dreams can take flight,
my family will prosper,
and my linguistic yearning
will meld into realistic love.

Lyrics

my morning drug
my evening relaxation
my ultimate need
my long-term desire

without my music
i woudn’t be me

whether it’s the slow rhythm
of alternative smooth,
the fiery banjo
of my Mumford,
the hard-core pounding-out
beat of my new hip-hop love

i wouldn’t be me
without my music

can i pound out my dreams?
can i let their words soothe me
into the oblivion,
the absence of pain,
the deepened longing
that i wish to absolve?

now that i have said
what i needed to say
i wait for lyrics
to take me away

the truth sits behind
the crumbling difference
between wrong and right
through the door i hear her crying
i steal their words
make them my own
make them
make them
make them my own

just as i take the world in my hands
i hold the whole world in my hands
i make it my own.

Details

she says she forgets
all the details of her life–
i put these words here
so i’ll remember
just how i didn’t expect the snow,
how warm his body was under the covers,
how he didn’t want me to go,
the flirtatious texts
that turned into spousely duties
(as always life intervenes)
the dark morning where
frozen in place
the bright lights of a new day
took the tears from her face
we read O Captain My Captain
and the seventh grade boy
who recalled Lincoln’s premonitory dream
made me remember why i teach.
these are the words that keep my day,
keep my memory
so those moments
(those subtle, fleeting moments)
can never. quite. disappear.

Flair (Flare)

handle with care
he says with flair
unlike the words
she harshly blurts
she asks for all
(her beck and call)
i must give in
to this life of sin
if my desires
could put out her fires
life would be sweet
he and i’d meet
but we all know
just how it’ll go
a flare up in trees
us on our knees
begging for mercy
a deliberate plea
should i give in
to this life of sin
should i give in
to flair’s twin?

Homophonic Love

i want to write this feeling
to right this feeling
give rites to this feeling
to scribe the soul
describe the soul
inscribe my soul upon your soul

there are no words
to right the rite
to write the right
to describe my scribe
to inscribe what i describe

only homophones
ringing into the night
(how i need a knight)
wringing into the night
(where is my knight?)

Clay

your voices flood my dreams
i come to school to crying
not mine
but her pain seeps through
the red skin of her cheeks
the ride home will be long hot
harrowing
words that shouldn’t be paired up
just like how
the world seems to work
mismatched pairs of desire
unwanted words shaped into
the molds set out by others
never my own truth
put out for everyone to see
like crackling clay
falling apart
from too many hours in the sun.

In My Own Words

Independent, instigative, isolated, intolerant
Negative, naughty, necessary, neglectful

Mercurial, mystical, magical, moody
Yearning, yielding, yelling, yapping

Olivine, oily, ornate, oscillating
Weary, wavering, weaning, warranted
Near, needy, new, neverending

Worn, wasted, waning, wanting
Ornery, oratorical, obnoxious, obstinate
Rowdy, resentful, resonant, redundant
Daring, delirious, demonic, despondent
Seductive, sly, supercilious, serious

Words

i sent the words
(there were clicks–
not yours)
i spent the time
(there were chips–
dark chocolate)

you didn’t respond
you couldn’t read
the words too thick
the chips already melted

you left them there for me
and i placed new words
under the light
words they shared in your absence

it was strange
having you walk in like that
not quite sure
if you should use your own words
or listen to ours

you waited
i wrote
(i always do)
you flipped off the light
that let them see
what i had written

in your usual manner
you ad-libbed
they laughed their usual laughs
but i managed to
feel less small
knowing they shared words with me

you stood in the back
video on
asking me a favor
(the chocolate
sitting in a back room
unrequested)

i took your center cut
put it in the microwave
and melted it for a perfect sundae

you won’t say a word
you will never know
just how warm
how perfectly cold
it tasted as i took my words
and swallowed them

What If

what if i just typed
like a speed demon of keys,
like i didn’t have to think
about the letters
beneath my fingers
or how the only one
i truly know by heart is
backspace?

what if the computer took over
and i lost control of the words,
the letters spilling out
in foreign codes
that no one could understand?

what if Joyce took over my hands
and every thought that entered my mind
for twenty four hours
could appear before me,
flooding the world with
academic nonsense?

What if i learned how to type,
to really type
everything that is important,
to delete everything that’s not,
to leave space for everything in between?