A poem about exorcising the unsaid into meaning. — Enter the phantoms on stage. The male and the female, Who in all their spectral vogue, Led on to relieve an all too familiar subject. The puppeteer / metteur en scène, Has eliminated any unnecessary dialogue, To capture the purity of the unsaid. Through distillation of mind into pantomime, Our animated…

About the fear of dissolution. — Aged fifty and four months, Reaching a total height of one meter fifty, Which he has sought to stretch and expand, Irreparably obsessed with occupying, As much space as his body would allow. He lived in a house twice his age which he acquired by, Conveniently suing doctors for malpractice, And had…

Greased up in ox marrow, He sought the eighth meridian and, A fishing rod long enough, To whisk him up into outer space, As close to the sun as his lungs would allow. Man’s search for meaning has always gazed to the ether, To counter the pull of gravity tugging at…

Of the transformative power of laughter. — We as a species have to objectify our pain and our sorrow. So that it may finally become unstuck. So that it may acquire the quality Of clear river water washing Over death, over love, over tragedy; Mysteriously setting us free from this or that prison. It begins with moans and groans and sorrow And…

Reimagined 1960’s Absurdism. — I am primed to live deeply, Love purely and rejoice in the absurd. I am here to stay and suck the marrow. Embracing the drunken, The madness of my youth. Short-lived and primordial, The search for contemplation, To find yourself reflected in, Bell bottom jeans, flower crowns, guitar solos, Rages, Orgies, Omens of the ephemeral. Eclectic Art, Transcendental…

A poem about discovering our parents’ unlikely victories. — In his world, he held power, Gently cupped between two hands. He developed a system of sounds so unique, Stemming from onomatopoeia, From monosyllables and meaningful hums, That only mycelium seemed to understand. He explored the farthest edges of the mind, Articulating the present, Under moonless nights, He conversed with the jungle, With…

A poem about pervasive thoughts. — It’s impossible to get the waiter’s attention. While I wait, I watch the different textures, Patterns, red lips, head-scarfs, and silky-summer-dresses, Wrapped around Tania, Carmen, Umma, Magdalena’s body. Or whatever her name was. Madness, ordering artichoke salad instead of lobster bisque because… The waistline. That hungry ghost who won’t let…