Posts Tagged ‘brothers’

Between the Risks

January 25, 2010

your six-string pickings are familiar like little red wagons

and white gravel drives or pedaling past barn skeletons

to Shirley’s grave in summer, self-taught on the few days left

to be young.


at fifteen I asked the nighttime forest to adopt me

into a broken clock religion of firefly rites

and boundless chapels housing windows shining

across midnight ceilings.  I was baptized

by the high sweet voices you gave me

and crucified the glaze on my eyes,

throat ringing harmony.


for years I could only love the things you loved

without hesitance, my heart was your heart

and it walked around outside me, burning

and humming strains of genius.


if there’s only room for one song when my

synapses are misfiring finally,

I want it to be yours:


d  a  b  g d

f#  g  a  d

c  d  g  b  d  g


Coagulate Trust

January 18, 2010

our darling doe eyes and receding hairlines

are built on twisted ladder halves of complementary

acidic elegance, skulls sparking hot thoughts compartmentally

like God-wrought charging elephants stampeding

twenty-four triumphant feet crushing dry grass

with soft flesh under a noontide flash

of a hot, wet, center-set

self-destructible sun.


we run on dark-spotted blood and it shows.

My Name Is Layne And I Am Seven Years Old And My Brother Dustin Is A Dumbhead

December 1, 2009

He pushed me down on the carpet because

he’s dumb and stupid and a poopbrain and

I’m gonna get our dog Lassie and ride on her back

like a big fluffy pony and her eyes are gonna

be big red fireballs that will burn him and shoot

lasers at his butt and she will say scary things like

“Abandon all hope, ye who enter here” and

“You feelin’ lucky, punk?” because even though I am

seven years old and don’t get cultural references

my dog does because she is smart and watches

TV and eats name-brand dog food.  After she burns

him crispy with her fireball eyes she will chase him

into my room and all of my stuffed Lion King toys

will band together and hunt him because that’s what

lions do because I am a total dweeb when I’m seven

years old and love reading ZooBooks, freaking ZooBooks,

but I’m not good at sports and I don’t like gym class and

I’m overweight and have huge glasses and in five years

when I ask Adam Wadsworth to dance with me at the

sixth-grade dance it will be super awkward because I

am still overweight with big glasses and I was

a late bloomer and he doesn’t like me that way

but I do because we both read Redwall and he looks

nice in button-up shirts.  My Lion King toys will

corner Dustin and Simba and Nala will rip off his

arms and legs and hide them in the backyard

and under the deck and stuff because they will be

hard to find and I won’t get them for him because

he is a fartface, and I will say “Ha ha ha, who’s fat

and dumb now?” and he will cry and want me to

love him again and I won’t because I’m mad

and I don’t have to.  Then me and Simba and Nala

and Lassie will start singing “We Will Rock You”

because I do know that song because Dustin plays

that CD on the stereo downstairs and we will stomp

and clap and laugh and it will be so much fun.

Then I will close the door to my room and after

a while I will want to play 2-player Mario and then

I will say something not mean to Dustin and we will

play Mario together and he will say funny things in

funny voices and we will laugh a lot.  I will like it

and Mom will make mac’n’cheese for supper and

it will be the best day ever.

Two Four Time

November 13, 2009

I was a gentler soul before I knew how to operate

a motor vehicle.  I was a gentler soul before

my friends told me being nice was trite.

one time my brother played a song on the piano

downstairs and I held my head because

it moved me.  one time I woke up and my

legs didn’t work.  my mother cried because

she thought I might never walk again.  my

mother cried because our family fell apart

September of last year.  you sing dirty songs

about me in front of our grandparents.  you

sing like James Brown really well even though

you’re white.  people tell me that I am the spitting

image of my father.  people tell me that God turns

the gears in my body.  big dogs make me feel safe.

big dogs killed my parents’ Chihuahuas, which is

funny because Chihuahuas are annoying.  I still

think about how the orange flowers on Degonia

look in summer.  I still think about the albums

you played in the basement, the places I went

in my head when I heard a man’s voice.