Gonna throw on

a plaid shirt

head on

down to the

corner diner

and get the

lumberjack breakfast.

in the lack of us

I have many regrets

but one encapsulates them

in a little

econo-regret

and that is that

I never kissed your belly

Little weighty

hefty nuggets

of information

live in my belly

button.

You can't have them.

We were halfway there,

open fields flying past us,

when Dad started trying to explain,

desperately leaning into me and the road

as wind roared through the windows

and pushed on his words.

By the time we arrived,

I had finished crying.

We got out of the car

to look at big rockets,

watch a movie about the sun,

and touch things

that had fallen from the sky.

there will be an anxious glow in my chest

and I'll be hovering

over a turntable

where spins

an old mono pressing

of Sgt. Pepper

glancing out

the window

lifting the needle

and gesticulating

like

William Shatner

hoping

to perfectly

time

the final

chord

of

A Day In The Life.

she might be candy

I must find out

if she is

as purposeful as that walk

that self-confident strut

as pensive as

that lip-biting thing

she does

kissing her

must be

like eating music

I used to write buttloads of poetry

'till the morning light

came to take them away.

Have you then prepared another buttload for me?

Yea,

for it was born in the valley of the buttloads,

and I have walked through the belly of the valley of the buttloads

and I have feared

no bullshit,

whence bullshit did rear its butt-ugly head,

as only bullshit knows how.

Yes,

I have lovingly prepared this,

another fine buttload of poetry

for you,

good morning light.

Take it away on good faith,

and beware the jealous day

might steal it from your hands.

(for Dad)

the moon over me

on Tuesday night

is a cold sun a-

drift in a starry gumbo

is a dust rabbit rolling

in a soup of specks

is a hungry lover bent

to grill out the blood

intent on seeing this

place naked of color

as I remain defiantly pink

on the ground

cutting

a left-handed shadow

if I were you

I would go fast on those skates

and dig my wheels into the curves

I would skate hard

and deliberately

until the gym thundered

like falling boulders

I would skate hard in circles

past Morgan who’s threatening to kiss you

past Colin who stole your best friend

I would skate too fast

and get my wheels tangled

and trip over my own foot

and fly into the hardwoods with my hands outstretched

I would hear a sharp crack

and feel my wrist go numb

and roll over on my back

and find my left forearm warped

a parabola

like a rubber cartoon

and later

if I were you

I would stare hard

and deliberately

as the doctor

with his bare hands

sweating and grunting

like he’s bending steel

squeezes it back

into place

I would try to explain

with a tired smile

as he removes the tourniquet

as the blood floods back into my arm

how the returning warmth

feels soft and red

and reminds me of

a cherry cough drop