Amino Acids

The most crucial amino acids come from the sea.
Containing necessary, life-sustaining,
lego-style proteins and elements,
they come from the sea.

These magical blocks of energy
cannot be produced by the also
magical, rhetorical, efficient human body.
They are magical blocks.

The sea, giver of all the stuff that makes our life,
is choking and spitting up sludge.
Its inhabitants are reducing themselves and
all the stuff that makes our life.

Without sea creatures to build our proteins,
those of us on land will forget
to sew, grow, create, and continue.
These creatures build our proteins.

Keeping Away from Love

Keeping away from love
is something I do not know how to do.

Though love is all-encompassing,
it is mercurial, fleeting, mysterious, bossy and unkind.

Keeping away from love
is like not getting lice in grammar school.

Though it is possible,
most are plagued with itchy, flaky, heart palpitations.

Keeping away from love
is a worthwhile exercise in religion, mathematics, and literature.

Though we use algorithms,
We forget the psalms and comma splices enter quickly.

Keeping away from love
saves time, is efficient, non-poetic and sensible.

Though on a schedule,
we skip lunches and procrastinate in order to feel passion.

Keeping away from love
is like ceasing to play guitar for the rest of time.

Though unrealistically demanding,
We always want the serenades from the ones that don’t know how.

Empty Bottle

It's dangerous to finish a bottle of whiskey in two days
and a love affair in twelve hours.

The stage sets, with one player, one prop, one instrument;
the empty bottle and the empty bed bring forth memory.

The guitar, weeping and shouting,
celebrates both types of intoxication.

All at once, the chemicals brought forth naturally (and unnaturally),
combine to create a frenzied, nostalgic glow.

Moderation, that trusty, knowing, sensible recluse,
is bullied, punched, and overtaken by passion and gluttony.

Drunken stupor, over lost lust or fermented grape,
seeps deep into blood, honoring loss.

Frantic memory-loss mingles with love's sweat;
the art of forgetting consequence reaches its climax.

Passed time overshadows hangover and (sometimes) regret;
the unmade bed and creaky guitar and empty bottle all clutter.

Untitled

Above,
the sky’s belly was grumbling
as its indigestion threatened menacingly.
Below,
the ground and people
and churches’ steps and basements
still drowned in terrestrial sorrows.

It had always been this way,
ever since the gods left love and passion
strewn upon the ocean floor.

Above,
the summer’s eve sweat
upon the rocky beaches and shores.
Below,
the seas turbulently let loose
life with upset stomachs and typhoids.

It will always be this way,
stormy and insincere, with the annoyance
of temperature and certainty of light.