trying not to be, existential
typing, and there
are no words today,
there is only
acid burning
in my stomach
and blood drying
in my brain
along with
a notice of
foreclosure
sitting opened
and unfolded
on the kitchen
table, the
creases of
the letter
like knives
stabbing my
life so far,
wounding
my pride
and leaving
it for dead
right there
on my
kitchen
table.
and life,
I think about life,
I think about
all of the money
that I've earned
and spent, money
spent on gold cards
and take out meals
and beer at the bar
for five bucks a
bottle, and I think that
today
life really isn't
worth living,
but it might be tomorrow.
Not Breathing or Bleeding
they say this is normal.
they say this is how
the planet turns
how the weather changes
and I can tell you in
Michigan, when I was a kid,
there'd be snow on the
ground from November
all the way to March
and just this past January
it was sixty degrees outside
and they say
don't worry
or they say
kiss your ass goodbye
because we're all going to burn
and it doesn't seem
to matter because
my truck still gets eight miles
to the gallon and the freeways
are choked with exhaust
and indifference and insanity
and big corporations still
operate in the third world so
they can pollute the planet
anyway they want
and there are those who
scream for justice
and Jesus is still nailed to the cross
not breathing or bleeding.
