Cockroach Villanelle

I lay on my back, flicking my head
You kicked me aside on your way up the stair
Hey man, I'm trying to be dead

Once, your girlfriend found me in your bed
She screamed bloody murder and washed her hair
I lay on my back, flicking my head

You could have squashed me, but I sit here instead
for three days now, flailing my legs in the air
Hey man, I'm trying to be dead

I'll still be here when you humans are dead
After you've poisoned the last clean air
I lay on my back, flicking my head.

You went to the kitchen to get some bread
And kicked me again, way over there
I lay on my back, flicking my head
Hey man, I'm trying to be dead.

Redo

The yearning
for a do-over,
the need to repeat things
the right way
is not nearly as entertaining
as the want
to do it again
even wronger than before

Saying the right words
can't compare to the immediate
satisfaction
of the wrong actions
if I've already screwed up in the past
who's to keep my correction
from going all out with it?

I see the face of my interviewer
not entirely recallable, but distinctly describable
Shrunk
Dolled
Icy
Blonde
Indifferent

I see the face of my interviewer
upset from her routine, as the day would have it
To busy to get a line of coke off the toilet seats

Letter

Karl

Sheila should have given this to you. If she didn't, and you just now found this after salvaging my pawnable belongings from the house, fire her. We couldn't afford a housekeeper when you were growing up, and that was even before we couldn't afford the healthcare that kept me dangling these past few days (months?)
Where was my wisdom, Karl? Where is it now? I can't say anything profound or wise about death, about whether or not I fear it, about riding the decline to incapacitation. I realize that my error in being unable to do this in my last days is the error I have made throughout my entire life. Was I not just the tunnel, arched and idle as the train of life rushed beneath me, never looking or responding except to support myself and the necessities of life above? Probably. What didn't I share with you? I shared little wisdom with you. That is because I had little wisdom to share. When you get (got) to be my age, the most inane statements can come off to some people as your own unique brand of wisdom. Perhaps you got that from someone else. Perhaps you got it from me? I never felt as though I had any to offer, even when masking what would be an ordinary statement (or understatement) as 'wisdom'. I would have been wiser for you, Karl, if I could go back, encounter several more decades that I could safely make up my mind about. But what then? Would my wisdom have the same effect on you? I'll never know what you really gleaned from my old age. When you were reading me "The Devil's Dictionary" some time ago, I began writing my own definitions, things that I'm sure Bierce would have put in (and said better). But I came up with my own for aging. Aging: The process of exchanging appearance and vigor for wisdom. I never fulfilled my own definition. Or I did. Nevertheless, I'd go back and fix it anyway, for your sake, and I hope you understand that it would be purely for your sake and not for mine.

Do you remember that day, one of your high school spring breaks, when you, your brother and I went to the park? You said, somewhat critically, that 'this will be a day to remember when the apocalypse happens' I've remembered that day ever since, and more for your words than for the scenery, or the way the sun streaked the fog rising off the lake. I don't (didn't) fully disagree with what you said, the world didn't end (in my lifetime, anyway, no guarentees!) But I thought about the apocalypse not in terms of the world, but in terms of myself? Perhaps that is selfish. What I mean is, it is a day to savor for your own personal apocalypse. But if I remember it for what you said, and you said that for remembering something else (the pretty day), then am I remembering the wisdom that you gave to me? Or was it wise of me to take your comment (possibly forgotten by you by now) and look at it in that objective sense that made it stand out in my imagination as wisdom? Am I losing you? The mind wobbles.

The next line is about penguins
They're flightless birds
and the next one's about cars
don't get run over by one
I'm not sure what the next line's about
because aoawifh[q308fhq[938fhq3
but the one thing I would really hate
would be if my grandmother died
and I ended the statement
with dramatic ellipsis
...

fuck

Caveman Love Lament

she a one who don't do right
me a fool think she alright
she no like to think of me
me try hard to make her me

me make tools for she have home
she take all leave me alone
me no like her go away
me try get her anyway

me try yelling in the din
me make clothes from leopard skin
she no care what I do most
she go sunbathe on the coast

she say see me later then
she run off with hunting men
she come back three day or more
she no get the meat from boar

me watch she no see a lot
she stay home and eat a lot
me like party, me go wild
she like party, she have child

she no nice to look at now
me no like to want her now
me no like her do her deeds
me have life now, she have breed

The sing

in

Her step

has

Turned to

drawl

--------

The wing

in

her step

has

Turned to

crawl

----

I shit and look out upon all the sorrows of the world, and upon all opressions and shame