Idiotpalooza

My girlfriend wanted me

to accept her influence as much                                               

as she accepted mine,

even going so far

as slam dancing with me

in a muddy mosh pit,

despite her belief

that the best way to enjoy music

was listening to it alone

in the comfort of her home.

Then a muscular woman

with a jet-black pixie cut

and ice-blue eyes knocked 

my girlfriend to the ground.

I reached out my hand.
She swatted it away

as if it was a sweaty hornet,

told me to drop dead,

and stomped her way

through the ecstatic crowd.

I tapped my bottom lip

and lumbered out of the pit.

My confusion drifted

into a thick cloud 

of second-hand pot smoke

above the stage. I drowned

my sorrows in power chords.

~~~

The Return

Now that my father is dead, 

people have returned 
to the moon, 

and pictures have given others 

clear, precise, and splendid 

sets of lenses in which to view it 

and Earth from their perspectives, 

as blue, white, and silver semicircles, 

emerging from space’s vast darkness, 

like my father in my dream last night. 

I walked with my poodle in a park. 

My father sat on a beautiful, polished oak bench, 

aglow in a gold ray of sunlight. 

His hazel eyes were filled with mischief; 

his mustache was a fuzzy shadow 

above his thick lips, 

raised into a diamond-shaped smile. 

He called out our names 

and gave us the thumbs-up. 

Then he was gone. 

A row of tulips swooned.

~~~

Playtime

My Hulk action figure fell

from my shelf

like a green piece

of wild, bulging fruit.

Oh shit, I said, louder

than I thought. My mother

stomped into my room,

slapped me upside my head 

three times. Don’t fucking

curse again, or I will 

toss all these toys away.

I remember the door

slammed shut. I picked 

Hulk up, placing him under

my bed’s covers. I hope 

you feel better soon, Hulk,

I said. Have dreams 

of smashing things.

Soon, two sticky yellow

plastic letter blocks,

contrasted by 

my burgundy rug, 

spelled out: FU.

I turned on the lamp

on my bedside table, 

where Princess Leia Organa—

my favorite action figure—

stood, rolling those regal eyes.

~~~

we here at CACTI FUR and GRANDMA MOSES PRESS love this poet so much we published his book THUNDERSNOW back in 2017.