Saturday, December 8, 2012

Untitled

The common domestic pair,
Measured in units of misery,
Not happiness, not love.
The heaviest moments tip the scales,
And all the airy, ethereal ecstasy
Cannot be the ballast
That brings us back together
In the face of such despair.
It fills a room like humidity,
So dense the doors stick
In their swollen jambs
And make slamming less of a period,
More of an ellipsis,
So that we somehow manage the building up
And cannot fathom the breaking apart
When all that weight, that dense element
Falls around us,
Shaking our foundation.

Tuesday, April 17, 2012

It's much easier to share

  • It's much easier to share
    Sadness on common shoulders,
    To settle tragic memory
    Like incense in a room,
    Than the perfume
    That is Joy.

    That pleasant, fresh-baked
    Happiness is less,
    Just less, and distress
    Is such sweet punch to swallow.

    I should have sensed
    The heady lingering scent
    Is too great, that its
  • Pesky presence seems a slight.
  • It's not. It assists as it stings
  • To smooth the lines
  • Binding two distinct times,
  • Soothes as it bites.

Monday, March 5, 2012

Thank you, Sunday

Let's sing a song for Sunday,
Chanteuse, nocturnal muse,
And night-nurse.
We couldn't hate you,
Your wake-up call so sweet,
The anti-lullaby.
Thanks for singing us awake
For morning smokes, and meditations
On snow-crusted granite.

Thanks for staying up--
Listening to snores
And finishing our puzzles--
Warming your voice for sunrise.

Tony Degan

Tony Degan, Tony Degan, next time

You take my lunch money

I’m going to tell my brother because

People like you

Deserve

To get the shit beat out of them

Sometimes, too

Thursday, December 29, 2011

The mouse's mouth

Forbidden bits
The mouse's mouth
Forever seems to seek
The cheeky mouse
For choicest cheese
Is anything but meek
They found, these
Sixteen, seventeen
Blind, brown mice
The nicest bits
The bestest bits
(Are these new bits
If they've bitten before?)
Do their blind, blue eyes
Know the difference?
Would they nibble
Anyway, a little bitter
To sniff and whisper
"I've had better"
And blink, forget,
Proceed?

Thursday, April 7, 2011

december war

our voices can't bring us back together.
i've lost not a battle but a war.
the only way out is through
except that's hardly ever really the case, is it?
the only way out is to turn back!
and to keep going is basically certain death,
saying the only way out is through
is really just accepting that you're fucked,
because you're so far fucked
that you can't even turn back.

Sunday, March 13, 2011

Wednesday, March 9, 2011

Now with purpose

When a shiny silver surface
Made her shudder like a circus
Tightrope walker, now with purpose,
Now with worry, now with nerves as
She could barely see the curves of
Her own face, did she deserve this,
To be made to shake and shiver
--strange, the mix of pain and pleasure
--Like she felt upon her very frame
The hushed but heavy dancing
Of a ghost across her grave?

Monday, January 31, 2011