Love Similies I fall for you like Karl Wallenda fell for the circusI fall for you like Fat Man fell for NagasakiI fall for you like DB Cooper My passion burns for you like a helium balloon in a solar flareLike a noonday ant under a bad boy’s magnifying glassLike the Hindenburg burns for the …
Author Archives: Mongo
Letting Go
Letting God on the train into sunsetmy history is so brittleephemeral and fleeting abandoned power linesstand forgotten marchingforlornly along the tracks old splintered poles tired fromhalf a century have dropped theirwire burdens into the underbrush my eyes don’t focus like they usedto so I lean back like these polestrying to see the details afraid to …
Excavation
Excavation They found my fossilized remainswhile excavating a freeway on-ramp.They were encased in volcanicrock, millions of years old.In fact you can still see the site today,abandoned within the cloverleaf of I-89. Of course, after the constructionall that remains is a vague outline—a foot, some hair, a couple teeth.And there isn’t even a plaqueto memorialize the …
Emily’s Legacy
Emily’s Legacy Emily Dickinson’s sunlit horsesand snakes sliding through the grasslive now on a New England farmwhere they look over bailsof freshly mowed hayand miss their patron terribly The northeast pastoralhas a long memorybut only back to Emilywho shuttered her windowswhen the ladies came to callbut never shooed away the beeor shrank back from the …
Distant Thunder
Distant Thunder I. The First Year Somewhere, off our mountain,the rumors say oldbattles continue. But here the sun is warm,and distant wars meanlittle to hummingbirds. News can be slow to reach us,and harder stillto comprehend. Yes, we know they are dying still.But the planes don’t fly overhere anymore, and although the thunder can sometimes soundlike …
Business Expenditures
Business Expenditures I unpack my lustin cheap hotel roomsof cities I’ll never see. I toss him carelesslywith my change and roomkey onto the nightstand, Where my lust sits forgottenas I shower and gaze into thenight, dripping with neon. My fingertips paint runes onclouded glass, and we hearlaughter across the hall. Fresh and clean andnewly dressed, …
Ben
Ben You say you don’t like poetry don’t want to hear it just never got it and I swoon because your air in my lungs wants to thicken into words birth verses composed of our mingled spit two tongues that nose playfully in the rain stanzas of falling sweat strophes written with a single finger …
Altar
Altar I worship nightlyat the shrine of your ass. For it is the cavewhere Buddha sleeps. A wishing wellfull of coins and dreams. A mysterious and unexpected letterto be opened slowly with deliciousanticipation. (First published in Dressing Room Poetry Journal, 2013)
Agent Rex
Agent Rex My dog is an anarchistwho slinks home at nightwith shame drippingfrom his muzzle. His eyes have become hardand glassy,his coat tattered from midnightdesperate close rangecombat training. My dog is an anarchistand no longer trusts his food.He uses the catas his taste tester.She doesn’t see the dangerso for now he lets her live. My …
My Patreon Feed is Live!
My Patreon Page is Live! It’s PATREON LAUNCH DAY! The Patreon feed for my novel (The Last Handful of Clover) officially goes live today! I’ve recorded a short introductory video for the launch. I’ll actually begin releasing book chapters on May 15, but I’m encouraging everyone I know to join now! It will help to …