Good Penmanship is a Sign of a Soiled Mind: Don't Spit on the Welcome Mat

this poem will never be finished her grace, gentle to calm an outstretched and anxious palm, quiets all storm of memory, her own tide awash a melody of opaque recognition that, by definition, is a hazy spell no slumber can break, no number of make-believe apparitions, to wrap her heart in such toughness as to clear the lane of her progress from debris, her grace unto me is the pinpoint of light that steadies and readies my own night as it descends and unbends, her grace, gentle and calm.

dawn comes with a stomach ache. I clear the calendar with my sleeve. I step in cat pee. winter rime? You're jogging early. They'll ground the balloons but not Stan and Ollie. That's the only meat I get on this holiday. I eat beef, I eat saints, I eat seers, I eat further. My plate was never full; I need tomatoes, so I ate nothing but homicidal side-eye from Mom. "Whatever it is, I'm against it." When you turn seven, you need to be exposed to Groucho Marx. That's my best Thanksgiving memory: one sleepless night and one PBS marathon of Marx Brothers movies. My father stayed up late to watch and record Jimmy Cagney movies, one of which was accidentally taped over to record Wrestlemania IV. Men on a mission find men on a mission. The courthouse where I work has several occupancies. The offices hold volumes of state appellate reports and mouse and insect glue traps; The deadlier are the legal tomes. When Santa turns his sleigh in...

I. I sold the glock and bought a crib. The glock 48 was perfect! So's my daughter...so far. II. Who ordered the Creole interpreter? Marshal, ask the clerk and steal  some kisses from his bowl.  We won't need the Creole for tomorrow, but the bowl's nearly empty. Court's not really in session without a full bowl of Hershey's Kisses. I know my rights. Mr. State Attorney? Affirmative . III. Mr. State Attorney, all my cases are ready. Isn't that marvelous? (Dad noises) IV. Defendant's name is Oval, but the guy's shaped like a pear. And he works for Amazon. Another one from Amazon! Why do all the meth-heads and parole violators work for Amazon? Amazon's cleaning up the neighborhood . V. I've dreamed it. So it was. It was a fingersnap, hit the music and go. I was boozin' on Mars. Bring the liquor, bring the gravity, make it happen. Chase a Monster with a shot of Crystal Palace, no more worries. ...

(poet's preface: I wanted to entitle this one, 'Cagesack',  but I opted for the soundbite, clear-as-mud 'Dark Decisions' because I figured it would be preferred by Nicholas and John. Other potential titles: 'Rick Astley and the Overnight Recovery' and 'Robert Shaw and His Resting Shark Face'.) CUSACK: you're going on a journey with a heat-seeking panther riding a Yamaha-1 bending time cross-country at 180 miles per hour.  The panther is denigrated as a one-sided perfectionist, but I don't  need to tell you the not-so-feel-goods are so terrifically wrong.  CAGE: I believe the one-sided perfectionist in search  of employment needs tutelage because he is a dope.  True greatness is terrifying; the constant is the ant.  CUSACK: And the ants are signing the checks, you fabulists. Last night, God turned the garden hose on the Olympians, soaking togas and diluting drinks, but he couldn't extinguish the action at...

the chapters are prolonged the proofreading adumbrated I often cleaned the birthday cake knife I did my best (but you needed x-ray glasses to notice) Madame Curie,   play your defensible metaphors be immodest be Picasso be the other Frozen movie, trapped on a ski lift above the undying Sonny Liston is not getting up Sonny Liston is staying down the speakerphone has increased both the divorce rate and the amputation rate anyone who touches a decent girl buys the farm. the melody modulates the mob we all fail at geometry (ego, try me). why does the Angel of Death wear so much make-up just to watch a Packers game? you don’t expect Willem Dafoe. you never expect Willem Dafoe, and I don’t accept Willem Dafoe as a guest of Kelly& Ryan, more like the sly diabetic mastermind taking hostage the show, the slyer producer in the wings thinking: spin-off. hey…yellow aurora… how are you, really ?

The two best things that ever could have happened are us…and us again.

As the dean handed the Bachelor’s Degree to me, Matt and Amy’s wedding invitation in my pocket began to warm, and I scratched my thigh awkwardly as I returned to my seat, cold perspiration falling down my nose onto my Mr. Potato Head tie, and I thought: “I could sure use those weekend passes to the Martian colonies right about now, Mr. Bradbury; overnight mail, if you please.” (I also remembered I needed to buy a present – how much money can I earn in the two days between graduation and Matt and Amy’s wedding?— I should’ve listened to my maternal grandmother when she was trying to teach me to crochet; I could’ve made shimmery periwinkle fallout suits) On the day of the wedding, I couldn’t remember the location of my shoe polish (I was in Pennsylvania , and the polish was in New Jersey ). The scuffs on the fronts of the shoes likely occurred when I tripped up the concrete steps of the reception hall at Aunt Mary Pat’s wedding in Mamaroneck...

Don't gravitate; levitate. Scare the physicists.