Monday, February 19, 2007

Dark Humor

The evaporation of lives appeared as a joke.

This my attempt at a one lined poem.

Friday, February 16, 2007

The Ugliest Man

Years after appearing, the ugliest man
hides in a room, shadows life from afar,
dizzies those close, and
angers strangers.

An emotionlessness set upon you like
mandatory overtime. Growling labor
brings tears, self-doubt.

No time-and-a-half.
Definitely no double-time.

No one blames you for quitting. You gave
some notice. Dropped some hints that
things needed to upgrade.

Where’s this plane heading? No
safe spots in sight. The landing gear
is stuck. An engine’s out, gauges spinning.
Oh yeah, the pilot’s drunk.

A conversation between winter’s
weather and loneliness brought

to my attention that
the ugliest man was me.

Friday, February 02, 2007

It’s Been 21 Years

It’s time for football on Super Bowl Sunday.
We’ve go our mittens, stiff drinks, and
hotdogs ready for a
Chicago Bear’s victory.

Like a salamander, I hide under rocks and logs waiting,
been waiting so long, for this moment like a newborn killing
time before it can legally consume alcohol.

Before the game we throw yellow snowballs
at each other. Especially, Lions and Packer fans.

We smoke grass and slam beers from
Milwaukee and St. Louis. A girl, some
painter, brings a sixer form Holland.

In the end, the Monster’s of the Midway shall
defeat the Colts of Indy by nine.
It’ll be Goulden.

We’ll all do our own kind of shuffle.