Daily Archives: September 27, 2016

Me For President

Originally posted 3/14/2011.

I would make a good President
because I would have to be dragged
kicking and screaming to the job

because I am relatively free of the mental defect
that would make me want the job
and that makes me more qualified
than those who usually try and do it

I would make a good President
of these Disunited States
because of all the hot bones in my closet
I’ve been everything at one point or another
and everyone could find in me something to hate
or declare me unfit for the office

I would make a good President
My father’s right off the rez
My mother’s an immigrant
(don’t worry, she got here legally —
not so sure about my dad)
I’ve got the American Dream covered — 
was here
came here
am colonized and

I’d make a good President
because I have inhaled
snorted popped booted swallowed
all the good national drugs —
casual cruelty to my fellow Americans
I’m on the wagon now but
I still know my way around
a finger flipped in traffic
whether domestic or foreign
(I know my enemies can change
on a dime into allies and back again
from years of merging onto freeways)

I’d make a great President
because I’ve got the allegedly necessary genitalia
for the job
and I don’t look biracial
so I can be slotted without too much fuss
I know how to wink and nudge
and slap a back when a back
needs slapping

I’m not running
If nominated will not run
If elected will not serve
(but boy howdy I’d be good at it)

Oh man you’ll be kicking yourself
next time the vote comes around
that I wasn’t in the race

In fact
I’m thinking of changing my name
to None Of The Above

just to test the waters


They are sitting on a bench
at one end of a long room.

They are staring at a far-end door
and speculating on where it may lead.

They offer thoughts: it may lead
outdoors, to another room, to a hallway.

They are only sure of one thing:
wherever it leads is clearly elsewhere. 

They cannot tell if it is locked or even,
possibly, ajar; this lighting is so terrible, who could say.

It seems so easy: walk over and see,
possibly leave this long dark room,

but someone has written
names of all their ex-lovers in Vaseline

on this polished stone floor and thus covered
the distance between here and there in hazard.

They are terrified to slip and fall
on such a surface. They aren’t getting any younger

and in this light they might
hit their head upon stone and bleed out unnoticed.

So they remain on the bench.
The room keeps getting darker. 

Somehow it seems
that the room is getting longer as well.

Suicide Prevention

He was bawling
as he crossed the line
to make it out
of October alive

as humble as a clock
with two broken hands
for whom time had stopped
beyond a dim recognition of its passage
a small whirring at his center

and nothing more

He had not planned to see November
but a single puff of wind
caught a maple tree perfectly
and moved it in a way he’d not considered
when thinking of reasons to stay 

When it swayed
a handful of red leaves
clinging to one branch end
lifted into a sunbeam
almost as a hand
might rise to bless one
in dire need of 
attention to their wounds

and while he never in general
was much given to seeing
such obvious and mundane moments
as signs
and indeed understood that nature
isn’t here for humanity in any sense
at all

he still found that rise
in the small spray of red
to be reminiscent enough
of a past dim moment of comfort
that for one moment he felt
more than the small whirring of time
in his broken movement

and thus moved
he broke down and cried
and chose
to make it through October
and at least see November arrive

to see what it might bring