July 2012
14 posts
Watching My Brother
There are as many worlds as
there are people
and I’m watching my little brother’s
world being stuffed inside a football helmet
tight and safe
and now it is being carried off onto a
football field by his body.
.
The rain is rubbing its knuckles on the
tops of heads and on sleeves
and umbrellas.
Our ancestors sit in the stadium lights
a quiet cloud of witnesses.
.
On Friday nights angels stoop...
Sweat
There’s a man sitting snug outside
of Morning Times, smoking a
cigarette. The smoke is rising over him
like the ghost of a child
and he doesn’t taste the
the tinge of salt that lines
his cigarette.
It was left behind by
a twelve year old Guatemalan kid who
picked and dried it in a Carolina field.
The hot smirk of the sun
was nipping at his neck
as he plucked the fresh leaves.
His hands were...
The Vigil
The dead aren’t that exactly
they’d say the same of us
if we would listen but they know we
won’t so, they poke holes in the sky.
They poke holes in the sky and
set big burning candles there on
the shoulder of the warrior
and the tip of bow and
the horn of the bull
and on the scales.
.
It’s a vigil, really,
but they don’t stay long
they have all the time
in our life to pity us
but, they’d rather...
Papaw
When someone dies all of a sudden
their life flashes before their eyes all at once,
but when the doctor tells you
you have 7 months to live,
you can take your time
and watch your life like a movie.
.
I’ve never seen my life flash before my eyes
but yours did once
when dad showed me your home movies,
your memories, that had snuck out of your head
and into the boxes in the attic.
.
As I watched...
Snorting Poetry
In the beginning
my friends said that poetry
goes well with a salad
or dry rubbed on a steak
or by even itself with a nice, dark beer.
“It just, mellows you out, ya know?”
Why is it then
that I am sitting in the gapping mouth
of my empty apartment living room
on the dry tongue of my couch
staring stir-crazy into a series of
little white rows of diced letters and metaphors.
What am I...
Preachers Say the Darndest Things
My dog dies when I was 13.
The vet said she drank too much antifreeze
and that she was never coming out of the coma.
When I was young I used to think that her nose
had healing powers.
If I had a headache I would press her nose
against my forehead, and feel better.
And now her nose was dry and still.
As we walked out of the animal hospital that night
the moon was the color of...
6:00 A.M.
I still cannot sleep
as I sit between floors
of black fire
quiet, still.
My clock is marching across the wall
like the moon
its tick tock teeth
chewing on eternity
smacking its infinite lips.
I am hungry now
I cut a slice out of the moon
and put it on a plate
place it on my bed.
My legs are mired in sheets
rolling like waves across my stomach
my slice of the moon floating
alone and...
Party Talk
It’s Friday night
we’re at a party, and
you’re telling me about your test on Tuesday.
And my thoughts are running naked
through the house
like children after a bath
running from the towel.
Our friends are all chatting and dancing
and you’re telling me about your test on Tuesday.
And I’m getting married in the fireplace
to a girl that looks kind of like Scarlett Johanssen
and a...
Apocalypse in Aminor (Or The Self-Fulfilling End...
Right after I hit puberty
I became a prophet.
Most of my friends were just counting the hairs on their chins
or getting insecure about their pecs
But I was dreaming dreams of the end of the world.
At night, I was laying my head down on my pillow
my own little Patmos
and seeing into the future…
One night I was at Neal Middle School
and our class walked single file out to the buses
to a...
Jurassic Parking Lot
Durham is famous for its dinosaurs.
I used to think they were real,
and I was going to ride one but
when we got out of the car I saw that
they weren’t moving, and I just
thought they were sad, or old,
but now I know they’re just statues.
Someone stole the head of the Brontosaurus
when I was in 7th grade, but
they gave it back.
That’s the one I would have ridden –
the Brontosaurus. We...
The Question of Good Poetry
So I’m going to say something really pretentious and let you in on a question that I get from time to time. It usually sounds something like this: “How do you write good poetry?” Yes, that is a bit of an awkward question to ask anyone who writes anything, but I can give you a few little nuggets of knowledge that generally lead to a better understanding of what poetry can be,...
Bite Less / Taste More ------> (Inspiration) →
So here’s the sister blog to this one… check it check it…
WatchIf you haven’t seen it yet, here it is… “The Strong One,” winner of the Campus MovieFest Best Picture Award, directed by Nicolas Sailer, shot by Josh Bielick, and written by Tim Reavis (myself). Check it out…
Why Blog...
I have found a need in my life; that happens every so often. I am afraid, however, that meeting that need will require a bit of pride-deprivation on my part. You see, I write, and I need to write; but, I have failed miserably and consistently at writing “just for me,” and making a daily habit out of it. If I’m writing something, I need to be writing for something, or someone -...
