I wanted

I wanted
That stuff
Company I enjoyed
Fresh air
And a good view
And children who called me mister

But

We grow up making do
With what is available

So

Friends were
Accidents
And love was a desperate plea
To satisfy a craving
With whatever was for sale

My life, I realized too late
Was lived in a discount store
And my living room was filled with
Hand me downs
Abandoned ideas
And half eaten recipes

The music
Never made it out of my head
And the tune I whistle
Through crooked lips
Is out of breath

So I look at the phone
With lots of people to call
But no one to talk to

As my heart
Congested with the plaque of waiting
Struggles to beat

As the sun goes down

©05.31.2017 ebn

The cut of a man

The stars cracked
And slid down the wall of the sky
Like dying tears
After gunshots

And though I was dressed presentably
I was fixated on catching the tail of that damned devil
Like I had just been born
Stuffed into a body too big to be loved
And hated
Because God chose to climb in there with me
While the jealous
spit

Even as I tapped my heel
To a rhythm – a holy ghost
That spoke like
Some invisible graffiti
Tattooed to a soul
That won’t sit still

Each one of them, my daddy
Hiccups from angels
The last raindrops of a raging storm
Kissing me goodnight
With swollen hearts

Choking on life
Plucked vines possessed with drunken deity
Knotted around necks
And pulled tight
Into pendulums

Flying to hell
From groaning limbs
Telling time
To stop
One too many times

©05.24.2017

The ball

On a great volume of breathing water
I waited for eyes to find me
Sentimental hands to reach out and
Rescue me from my listless boredom

The high ceilings of the cloudscape
Easily accommodated the flocks of thoughts
Lifted from me by the salt water like fingerprints
As I slipped over the slopes of each wave

Beneath me flowing fields of water grasses
Waved at me from just beneath the glassy surface
Offering me the illusion
That I was free and flying again

©05.23.2017 ebn

Love like

love like
sticky syrup fingers
hands don't shake
don't pick up
don't touch...

you got to
(and you bet not say this out loud)
suck 'em awhile
or wash 'em really good
before you use 'em again.

©05.22.2017

We black in corners

we black in corners
when lights off
whispering, mumbling
and talking shit
armed and ready to
throw them thangs
when shit done gone
too far
(we are?)
less the hammer white
and all that bangin
got an official permit
that won't quit until the job is done
and the last one
is you

©05.22.2017

A pack of dogs

a pack of dogs
salivating across the street
tongues wagging in frothy mouths
about how you made them groan
when you walked away

looked hard but
never saw you
never carried groceries for your grandmother
never held the door open for your mother
or brought you bouquets of dandelions

they buzzed around my ear
like summer bees
asking for directions
so they could make honey
from your flower

but never saw their sister
in your eyes, your smile, your laughter
never listened to you hum a tune
while hanging laundry in the backyard
never listened to your poetry
when you said grace

those other boys
would drop their heads
when your daddy came around
and never said, “good morning, sir.”
Or “good morning” to you, for that matter.

©05.22.2017

Art class

my footprint in the mud
kissed the earth
dried in the sun
bore witness that I was
old

i held fire
at the end of a stick
eyes and lungs burning
challenging wild and hungry beasts

but the wind came
blew out the fire
erased my footprints
and took me away

now i scrawl my memories
like graffiti on this white wall
angry desperate and afraid

so that souls who survive
will be agitated
to run in the rain
stretch in the sun
and let me breathe again

©05.22.2017 ebn