1/3
the smell of ozone
the sharp feeling of december night
too cold to rain too warm to snow
looping plastic rope around the sailboats tow
and frost rises prickly-fragile along the rim of sea
where frisbees fly to sink and rocks tumble smooth
a hand is warm on the neck the neck warms the hand
and the only hot air is from a mouth and eyes wound bright
and blisters form stinging red in the corners of everything
the wind picks up the storm is nigh
the stays begin to sing
the pier is full-on empty now
the winter’s wedding’s fled and gone
we have to wait a whole year now to come and make repairs
crank obsequience from rust and ableness from junk
the temptation today is to
fall upon the deck and wait for the rest
the after to swiftly claim its warm prize
seductive, anti-productive, that nest that
lifts to the clouds and a bit beyond
2/3
i don’t think i could trust myself to be a man
i’ve always said i’d whip my dick out and knock shit over
but what if i took it too far?
i’d stick it in and not remember beyond pleasure and
who knows who gets knocked over then?
i’d swagger around and collect backpats and man-hugs
with the solid whap of a fist on the back
meaning love and acceptance too obvious to state
too embarrassing to contemplate at any length
past the bottom of a beer and the morning after the night
i love you man means i love this whole bar and
in general i love generals and coaches and men
who taught me these emphermerous things that
mean so much to me like the fact i don’t run
but i do or the fact i am not cruel but i’ve been
known to say a thing or two so no not with this arm
strength, not with this swang, it’s better that
the way i walk does not talk beyond don’t talk to me
because what happens in that world is no good
probably for anybody. i would be bad behind the barrel
of any power. i admit it. i’m here.
* 3/3
What’s it like at night, old man?
with anger for all your years
What’s it like looking at that other bed
what’s it like to remember tears
You lean on a cane but you wish you could wield it
You walk longside a field and wish you could till it
but none of it is you except bourbon and literature
and racism called timewarp and sexism called charm
Cause it’s only time to be gentle, old man
Watch and wait for an election old man
and leave it alone because what’s in it?
Plans that don’t include you - for true
And there’s that newsboy so rude to you
And you wonder who will miss you
Well I will
So there
— smk 10 jan 2012
