Remember we played at your dad’s funeral home
you hid in coffins scaring the shit out of me
laughing your deep belly laugh
my body trembled as each lid opened slowly.
Where are you now Bobby, new games for you to play?
Did Vietnam strike you down like so many friends?
I’d rather think not, feels better that way
Where’s your horse sister? I laughed as she galloped
the sidewalks of our neighborhood, a stallion with two legs.
Memories so dear to me now, I relive them every now and then
I hope you do too.
If you planted a tree for me
I would be happy
send you rain to make it grow
like trees should
with lonesome groans so quiet
not even earth could hear
such natural industry.
If you planted a garden
I would be so happy
I’d sing with thunder
and dance like lightening.
I’d visit with humming bird
silence and together with winged vibrato
we could sing the hungry masses.
If you had a baby I would sing
hosanna to a god of your choosing
give you a silver hammer to swing,
to praise the pope or Malcom X.
Let me be your silent servant,
your communist lover
Sieg Heil sweety and party on.
Bare baby slapped
twisted and gagged
born in violence
scabbing belly button
here you are
daddy’s gift to you
welcome to this world
don’t be hungry
for god’s sake
The Scrotum of Eternity
I’ve heard the melody
the one about a rock of ages,
the one Jesus wrote for Mary
while she slept in a cheap hotel room
near the Ocean City boardwalk.
The words melted onto his notepad.
Their children lay sleeping in this lion’s lair
of a world, a world he didn’t know nor understand.
Son of God? No, son of no one.
He was the bastard child of a myth.
Mary stirred in her sleep and Jesus stirred in places
myths are born.
Tomorrow he would search the dumpsters.
This king of kings starved while his fans ate escargot.
He and his family would travel the coast
nowhere near the Galilee.
Nowhere near the book of fiction
written by kings and scribes with bellies full of pizza.
The lantern cast shadows
like so many tentacles
reaching to each corner
in the dank dusty room.
An old woman stared sadly
a young man’s picture
framed and time yellowed
she once loved him fiercely.
Outside wind whispered life
through cracked windows
with eyes vacant
time robbed her of expression.
Secretly she kissed the picture
tucking it deep inside
her heart broken chest
and slowly began to die.
A night I remember well so well
blizzard road and a cherry red motor
ditches surrounded us and I but a child
no one near on a full moon path
we were lost and never stopped.
You died soon after, dark dirt mouth
white bearded cemetery swallowed you
something swallowed us five poor white
kids with hollowed sockets of brown
we crept into our beds that night your bed
empty yet breathing not life our life
turned on a dime in a forty eight chevy.
I watch as cars pass in gray November fog
wondering if tomorrow
for three white kids left.