What Happiness Costs

Sitting on my couch,
Eating good cashews.
Owing nothing
To anyone.
Wanting nothing more
Than to be
Where I am
At that moment.

Happiness costs less
And much, much more
Than you think it does.

Dear Sleep

We haven't been friendly lately,
Between the nightmares and coffee
I haven't visited you as much
As I should have. Tonight
I'm up late again and tomorrow
I'll miss you even more as I sink
Further and further into the surreal life
Phantoms swimming up
To pull me into the deep end of the pool
And you think I've lost you
You think I'm a stranger in a strange land
And while this is all true
I'll finally catch you like a young dude
Riding his bike as fast as he can
Through the empty streets of a small town
That doesn't give a fuck.

Drunken Rave #3

Many ways you can get drunk,
But pre-planned rings the most hollow
And desperate and tonight I feel a little
Desperate a little drunk a little
Tired.

New love makes you tired.
Most poets don't tell you that,
They want to believe new love makes
You sleepless aching and hot in the
Long, long night.

But it really isn't like that.

New love is like coming home after
Being out in the cold for a long, long time
And slipping into your favorite night wear
By a roaring fire that's been built for you
In advance and someone handing you the drink
You've been thirsting for
And putting your feet up as your drooping eyes
Close you feel an afghan being dropped
Over you covering you in so much
Fucking warmth.

New love is like sleep
A long time coming.

Poem for Meat Loaf

Chubby goofball rocker
Jean-jacketed vanguard of an army of dispossessed
Lonesome losers fingers itching
To rock and roll and rock some more
Together we'll kick down all
Old rotted doors rescue all the girls
We do not deserve (on paper),
We, unabashed romantics,
We, the drunkard pot smoking
Video game loving freaks
So many grand gestures
Falling from us like dying leaves
In a world hellbent on being realistic
And dull dull dull.

Together we will make a last stand
And consume the world in gulps
The only way anything can truly
Be loved.

Sometimes I Need to Settle Down

Why why why
Coffee coffee coffee!

Rolling like a freight train
Flying like an aeroplane

Nimble fingers periodical
Tiny silver necklace against
Pale flesh

Leaves falling so loudly
Outside my windows
Newly opened spaces

Now I can see a tower
In the distance
And at the top of this tower
Is a spastic monkey
And that monkey
Is my brother.

Bored At Work

How long will humanity need to be bored at work?
How long must this go on?
Is it worth food and shelter?
I guess. But you always have to
Leave
That food and shelter and return to
Work
And sit patiently while your life slips
Through the world like
Sand.

The best thing you can hope for
A good night on TV and maybe
A trip to the bar where you will
Bitch about work and eat buffalo wings.

No,
This isn'tjust about getting a new job.
This isn't even about spoiled 1st world countries.
This is about creating an entire world
Where robots do the dull stuff
And everyone else gets to save the Galaxy.

Real social planning;
Is that so much to ask,
You fancy fancy scientists?

A Smacking Poem

Sometimes
I just feel like
Smacking you.

If it makes you feel better,
You can smack me
Too.

Are You Happy?

Here I am, lying on the floor
Staring at your fine, fine heels
As you walk out that door
Slamming it in that sexy way
You developed over a plethora
Of tooth and nail and now I am
Talking to random people in bars
Asking questions I don't want to have
Answered because the only real answer
Is YOU WILL DIE we will ALL DIE
And when we are gone this all
Moves on.

All My Spills

Last night I spilled wine in a bookstore,
But this was by far not my first transgression.

I have spilled in Brittish manor houses.
I have spilled on the decks of cruise ships.
I have spilled at high school, college, and fancy
Graduate school dinners.
A legion of parties, museums, a dozen places where spilling
Was otherwise unthinkable. One Chistmas Eve
Stands out
In particular.
I was only sixteen and the loud drunken adults had left
A bottle of red wine out on the white clothed table.
I tried some, liked it,
And drank some more.

You can probably see where this is
Going.
You can probably tell that if you were here
Right now, sitting quietly with me,
I'd spill anything you asked.

Suddenly

Cold rain tore through my chest like shrapnel
And my coat fell ragged around my feet. When
I tried to run for it I tripped and smashed my face
Into the asphalt and through my one good eye I saw
Lightning hovering over me like a guardian angel
And when I asked if I could please get up it poured into me,
Crawled up inside me like a rat into its warm nest.

Later, the storm passed, I stood up, scorched but
Whole. I walked home and took a long, hot shower,
My fingers trembling as I soaped up,
My eyes still filled with so much light.

A Toast to Destruction

The blue planet was getting cocky
So they came and leveled everything
They could get their goddamn hands on
Cows flew everywhere along with
Tax accountants and the whole swirling mass
Really took flight and that was how I knew
To open that bottle of wine I'd been saving
For a special occasion, for a day
That everyone would remember.

Relative Poetry Goes on Hiatus

We'd like to thank our wonderful readers, but sleep has fallen upon us.

Zzzzzzzzzzz..................

Why Must You Try and Hug Me?

Oh no.
You're here again.
Don't you have anything better
To do with your time than
Visit Me at My Place of Workship?

What's that? No, Crazy Stranger,
I don't want a hug. You smell
Like gasoline coated with
Gasoline.

I think I'll hide here in the backroom
Where it's quiet and dark and maybe
You will mistake me for a mop on
Steriods and confused, you will go away
Happily cackling as you hug the UPS man.

How Much I Loved You

You entered the room
Smiling,
Shy.

We both laughed, because we
Felt like laughing.

I wanted to hug you right then,
Lift you off the ground and
Press your softness into me.

I could not believe
That you made me believe
In something I did not believe in.

Kissing You

Your tongue and my tongue wrestle
Smackdown! style and you grip my shoulders
Like I want to get away but I don't,
I'd like to stay and get to know you.
I'm a bit rusty here, but girls still wear bras
Right? With those damn hooks and whatnot
Did you eat something with garlic? Man,
Kissing is just so romantic just so freaking
Great who needs sex when you can wrap
Yourself in anothers slobbery tongue?

Dear Jackie, from "That 70's Show"

Oh my god oh my god oh my god
I'm, like, your biggest fan. Really!
You wouldn't believe how many times
I've checked out what outfit you were wearing
When I should have been following a perfectly
Good plot. You sexy sexy thing, I want to brush
Your silky black hair and slow dance with you
To George Jones. If you let me grab your
Butt, I'll be in Heaven, all the pain I've ever felt
Receding to nothing. Please Jackie Burkheart,
Be my Valentine and I will keep you well hydrated.

Poem For My Ex-Girlfriends

Ladies,
You've grown up so fast.

One of you is married, with child
And husband, now carefully nestled near
The place you grew up. You don't
E-mail me, but your mother does,
And I'm glad for you. I really am.

Another of you is getting married
This summer. You represent
The hopefulness I felt in college,
And at your wedding I will try
Not to get too drunk and embarrass
You in front of your friends, most
Of whom I dislike immensely.

And the third of you is dating
Again. That's cool. I can dig it.
Just don't let me meet the guy
For as long as possible. I tend to
Say things, and do things, but you
Know all of this already, we held
Hands for a good long time.

Ladies,
Did you know Valentine's Day is coming up?
I think I'll watch Apocalypse Now
And laugh at all the napalm.

Fresh Air

Impossible

This light and airy creature

Giggling in my arms

As if she has been here all along

Just when I thought

I would never breathe so freely

Again.

How to Deal with a Thief

If you try to steal my wallet one more time,
Serious consequences will ensue.

You don't believe me?
Just try! Just dip into my
babysitting money one
More time you freakish
Drunkard with your big
Beer guzzling throat and
Tremendously LOUD voice,
Out-shouting everyone and
Their Mom. Buying drink
After drink like you think you're
Some sort of Captain of Industry.

Sure, laugh it up now,
Mr. Happy Go Lucky,
But we'll have to work all this off
Together, in the Poor House
Of weekend revelery.

Jesus Song (For Ned, Who Sat With Me on That Christian Music Only Bus Ride)

Jesus,
You are my Jesus.
Better than Cheez-its,
Jesus!

Jesus,
You are Awesome.
You are truly
Magic.

That thing you did with water & wine?
Fuck ya!

Jesus,
What did you think
Of the "art piece"
Piss Christ?

I bet it pissed you off,
Didn't it?

Jesus,
You are
My Jesus.

Better than Cheez-its,
Jesus.

Atlantis Blue (Written Five Years Ago)

I will gather myself and follow Ishmael to the sea.  
I will search for Atlantis by swimming down, way
Down into the chilled darkness of blue gone black.
I will grope among the clammy blind, the bottom dwelling.
My proof will lie in the places known only to the drowned,
Where they are forever gone but still entering your sleep,
Shouting wisdom you cannot remember.

I know Atlantis is there.  When I find it I will scream
And kick and defy the midnight ocean until I return to
The sunny surface of our fairytale world
That must ignore the Lost City.

when it's too early to be awake...

I stumble out of bed
in the darkness of my hidey hole,
thirsty, arms outstretched,
trying not to think trying not to think
to stay asleep as I open the
door to my refridgerator,
its radiant electric light
showing me more
than I'm ready to see.

What Leo Tolstoy Knew About Love

You will be changed and changed again.
And when the storm is over, you will
Have to pick up your heart in a pail and
Keep walking along the shoreline, the smell
Of rotting fish either perfume or pestilence,
Depending on where the voyage has taken you.
Kneading sand with your toes, it is your own
Heart you must answer to, not all those ships
Broken on the rocks then washed back to sea.

Poem By My Cousin, Steve

“On waking at 4 a.m. to the floor shaking, and going downstairs to find Mrs. Robinson, twelve hours on the lam from her hamster cage, jammed in the smoking furnace” by Steve Norman


Her name was never so ripe
for parody, we hum the bars
God bless you please
and laugh a little, the furnace switch
now flipped to off, the floor above us
no longer a fault line.
We close the door to her aluminum
tomb, deciding to leave it all
for the morning, and upstairs we collapse
back onto our beds
with closure.

I lay and think for a moment
how I don’t care that she’s dead – she’s
someone else’s
eight-dollar emotional investment –
and yet I recall
the secret joy, the thrill
expanding inside me like helium
each second after I discovered her cage
empty, her door
open,
hanging awkwardly from its hinges,
a challenge to us and the world to create
something better, stronger,
less conquerable.
To think it all only came to this
waste.

Though, a week later
when the Minnegasco man hands
us a hundred-dollar furnace bill
I’ll understand the true hell blaze of glory
she went out in, and I’ll swear I hear
her laughing a high-pitched
nasally hamster laugh as I write out the check.

Drunken Rave #2

The other night I met a girl at a bar
And she told me I could not be a writer.
I could not possibly be a writer. Astounded,
An entire alternate history rushed before my eyes.

I would have married that woman who was good for
me.

I would have gone to football practice, instead of that Springsteen
concert.

I would have worked with my father, I would have lived in
Hungry Hollow.

I would be zit free fat free Lutheran unthinking investing in shipping,
And real-estate.

I would have been as dull, and solid, as a post planted in concrete.

You would have met me at a party, I would not have been in my room
Typing.

This poem would not exist.

Put Me in Your Pocket

Please put me in your pocket.
I bet it's warm in there.
I bet it's safe.
Your pocket is a wonderland.
Your pocket is like a veteran, all-pro offensive line,
Feet well-planted in pass protection.
I won't cause any trouble,
I swear, I have no sharp objects
In my own pockets,
Nothing that will prod you
Overmuch.

Don't Mind Me, Placid Suburban Family!

I'm just here to hook up the cable.
Also, the plants need to be watered
The cat set on fire and then
Allowed to roam free in the backyard.
Don't mind me, I'm just sleeping with
Your daughter for the hell of it she likes
It when I sing opera between the sheets
You should think about re-decorating
Consider re-sale values add a bathtub to
Your dry existence no don't get up I'm
Just going to smash a few kitchy items with
This 42 ounce wooden Lousiville Slugger;
Now that's heft! Please allow me to eat
All your lite microwave popcorn
you might choke on a kernal and then
Where would you be?

Dead, stupid!

Dead as a Beanie Baby!

Ancient Love in the Afternoon

His love tackled him
And he gasped.

She was strong,
Golden muscular without
A forgiving inch of fat.

“You’re like a Spartan warrior
Woman,” he said, laughing
As she subdued him.

“It’s called exercise,” she replied,
“You should try it.”

The man considered exercise and basked
In the lazy sunlight
Of their shared afternoon.

“No thanks,” he replied at last,
“I am a born Athenian.”

Somewhere in the depths of history
Socrates laughed,
Patting his fat belly.

Reality is Crashing

Monkeys are everywhere
You cannot run
You cannot hide
So many monkeys
Feel dead inside

It Comes In Waves

Tonight

I want to sprint barefoot
Into the ocean

Until a wave
knocks me down and
I will laugh

Like a maniac
Swallowing seaweed
Clawing sand

As the riptide
Pulls me out so much farther
Than I would've gone

Alone

thoughts from the moon

I would curl up with you
In a soft crater. All that dust
Sifting between us, settling
Over us, like a blanket as the
Stars burned and Earth rose
In the sky (so blue with water,
Oceans deeper than you'd think).
Your fists would relax because
If you think the moon is beautiful
On a clear, silvery night in winter,
Try looking at everything you love
From the sterile vacuum of space.

A Journey to the Center of the Earth

The comet smashed into my house
As I was ordering a pizza, dragging
Me towards the center of the earth
I grasped at roots as I was pulled
Through layers of sediment
Dinosaur bones mocked me and
The comet would not let me go.

What?

Hell yes it was hard to breathe.
How would you like magma
Crammed down your throat?

The Last Beacon of Light

The VFW had closed and we stumbled out into the dark night
Our throats soar from singing and drinking and my old friend
Turned to me and asked, "Are you hungry?" and I stopped
And considered the question and finally I said yes, yes I am
Hungry and so he led me through the frosted streets of Uptown
To a brightly lit diner and it was 2:37 AM and I asked for a booth
For the two of us but they said sorry, we're so busy at this time of
Night you need more than two people for a booth so I said okay
And we sat down at the counter like two gunslingers and the joint
Buzzing happy drunks spilling out of their seats eating omelets
A boisterous commune of like-minded spirits shouting at each other
This is where the party is, this is what I've been searching
For this and eggs benedict with crab meat and we ate until we were
So full all of us like moths drawn to the night's last beacon of light.

An Exhortation

You took a bad shot
Right in the goddamn face
Your teeth popping
Stars everywhere
Your eyes level with the ants
As you slammed into the earth

But get up.
Shake it off.
The world still exists
You can still walk freely
Breathing, your lungs expanding
Like the Grinch’s heart on Christmas morning.

For God’s sake, tighten the
Laces on your old walking shoes
And get the fuck up.
Allow the world
To embrace you
Once again.

zombie zombie zombie

If I was a zombie I wouldn't take shit from nobody
I would drive alone in the carpool lane and if the cops
Didn't like it I'd bite them in their cop arms and smile
My rotten smile and then I'd hit the gas on my way to
A zombie convention somewhere, maybe in Florida,
Where I'd gamble my zombie inheritance one nickle at a time
And if I won I'd shout "Aggaaa shla ragga toasd chomp chomp!"
Then shamble my badass self to the all-you-can-devour buffet
Freshly warm human flesh laid out on white linen tablecloths
The background dinner music chainsaws and shrill screams
And after I finally got my fill I'd go out and vote Republican.

Afternoon Nap in January

I wake to a groggy darkness
Have I slept until midnight?
Have I missed something
No one should miss?

No, it's only 4:23.
I growl like a surly bear
Blinking until all the honey
Has left my mind.

Poem for the Child Empress in The Film Adaptation of The Never Ending Story

We were the same age when I first saw you
And I knew already I loved you
But you were trapped behind a glass screen
And lived in a world much more
Exciting than Lake Crystal, MN.

I wanted to be there to hold you
As your beautiful empire crumbled
And the ravenous Nothing came to devour
Even your foggy blue eyes; you were sick,
You needed a new name.

Like Sebastian, I would lose a mother young
And the actress who played you probably
Is a crack whore now all innocence lost
I drink whiskey and write and I hope someday I
Rediscover that one grain of sand.