witness

By Kervin | June 2, 2010 | No Comments

the cruiser turned around to drive off
after she put her boxed things
in the seat

straight to voicemail

By Kervin | June 1, 2010 | No Comments

the phone rings. caller id reads “jesus fighting a velociraptor.”
christ, not again

they’re not content with their situation.
guess i’ll pick up and play receiver

“she just always wants a fight,” says He.
“put her on,” maybe I can gain some insight
awkward fumble while jesus fights the
velociraptor to hold the phone

“hello.”
“SKRREEEEEEEAARRRCCHHGGH”
“mhm. could you put jesus back on?”

clatter crunch thud. scuffle scuffle. crrricck.

“you see, kid? this is what i’m talking about.
never any capacity for a conversation; selfish
bitch.”

Click.

fighting

By Kervin | May 19, 2010 | 1 Comment

i am bred with such contempt
and not biologically

but as far as i recall i’ve tripped on hate, maim, destroy, kill:
silly short words whose simplicity fail to grasp
an aching desire to disassemble with violence

words voicing “you’re wrong,” and i turn around and break my wrist
trying to break myself without being broken
because my god, that’s easier than horse-whip apathy

screaming blood-soaked words backed by blood-soaked lungs spitting gravel
tearing throat, red and white, blisters boil and broken, Xs and Qs.

much like i walked through the nursery today
rows of irises pushed up and out of topsoil.

i called, they responded; so i walked
pressed in a place where “free love” and “the blues” met
this finite matrix–plotting a point where i stood
i strolled along, “her favorite,” one called “carelessness” broken under my foot

do I have your attention yet.

so i ached to press my back in the soil
grow and blossom and bloom and for one second serve as some fucking sort of example
before i wilt and die

nobody will read a bad poet, not for one second.
either i will get better
or i won’t
and i will die with blood in my soil

another twisted remnant dissolved to minerals