Casuistry of The Seas

Casuistry of The Seas

Folklore holds various alternate positions that one might
require to be re-appropriated quietly while they do not pay

attention that could very much be consumed by the creep
of yellow mold and a vinegary sort of flavor left on the back

of a tongue spending too much time tasting and not enough
at the other things that tongues are useful for.

So no, I don't buy into all of this, I don't accept what might be
accepted as a sort of palliative to the general ebb of things.

But, stuff being what stuff being is stuff, stuff can otherwise
come in useful which stuff being sort of kept but resented

with a sort of turned up sort of attitude, where turned down
might remain the motions that have been or what else

the takenness of things that put in a lot of pressure,
barometric or otherwise, the point is that it increases

that ears pop, that I end up with the bends and my blood
overoxidizes and that's that then, and leave the rest
of it all for future generations to dissect and to analyze.

Greenpoint Brooklyn, 1999

Greenpoint Brooklyn, 1999

Czech rebel I remember not so much the rest dear
America what pieces of me will you keep?

It was 99 cents and yeasty and so good cold
and I don't know that anybody paid rent there

but there we were and what love I did not yet think
I knew. Dear America, do you have in small cedar boxes

my pieces of the East River that have kept me rapt
where wrapped I have held summers like that.

Dear America, do you remember that the dope
was dry shake all stems and seeds all cut with

ephedrine in glycerine capsules melting micro
dots under our tongues. What is still dear, America

this place that I come back to, sweating now in
recollection the collected plaster crumbles like snow

field raptures like me like we have never been called
dear, America. Still. Still in with the cheap stuff distilled

from the meltwater in summer, maybe tho but for
but for the condensation, the sweat on the bottle

and sweltering like we do. Dear America, we've had our
differential equations, our earthquake laser targetting

systems like eye beams the railing we have railed
our Laotian season, we tho quiet, a Graham Greene

quiet of us dear, America I have questions. I have a list
of requirements. I have unmet demands and tattoos

on the skin inside my mouth where ink like burnt skin
hangs down and scrapes against my tongue so slainte

we like our arm chair irish famine anarchists drink our own health and wonder
yet at another year dear America, we have got at least one more.

Happy April Fools Day

I'm trying again to do the poem a day thing for national poetry writing month. If past years are a good predictor then I will probably be giving up in the next few days. In the meantime here's my first NaPoWriMo poem

Happy April Fools Day