Talking about weather they say meat substitutes are spies like prose poems or undercover agents who can’t keep their mouths shut, who keep talking about the weather meanwhile my grandpa died the way he lived— talking about the weather, flirting with nurses, dead-set on never letting tofu pass his lips when you live in a […]
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Forthcoming from Beatlick Press in September 2021 “In his stunning sophomore effort, The Pieces You Have Left, Tim Staley brings you to the woods and asks you to stay the night. In this moving and fast-paced collection, Staley touches on an array of subjects–space travel, love, fatherhood, masculinity, death, solitude, youth, and dementia–delving deeper than ever […]
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After I See Your Post About Visiting L.A. I reach out– longing for connection. When surrounded by seagulls, I look for the first semblance of friend. Not that we have much to anchor anymore, conversationally. Dolzani’s English class. I didn’t read assigned books. Didn’t become The Old Man and The Sea. So many years to […]
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Transplants Supply and demand—- Two coats, even in July, one wool, hooded, the other matching sweat pants. Underneath? Long johns. Feel better? He needed air, on bad days especially, especially when the tide came in, when the wheelchair was too obdurate, when effort was a graft some small hope provided and waiting was […]
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After Ahmaud Arbery 3.23.20 His arrival here cut one background from another. Five hands sprung from each of his wrists. I wipe the ashes off the armoire. I light a new stick of incense Morning Star Mellow Pine. He sits on my sofa deliberately. The muscle spasm in his leg ribbons the room. From the […]
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“Gravity Grateful” Looking down from high places doesn’t bother me at all but when I have to look up at things, like buildings, it makes me nervous cause it feels like some kind of force like a magnet or something is going to pull me up and lift me off the ground which is a […]
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“a little bird” I stare at the shed and notice a bluebird on that nearby tree, on that branch halfway up, chirping. Hey, my coworker says Hey, I say Are you distracted, she says Sorry, I say And she leaves And I go back to my bird. But it is no longer chirping on that […]
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Red Pick-Up Truck Daddy stood sticks In the corners of the bed And tied on a tarp To keep the worst of the sun off us. He laid down blue moving pads And lifted us little girls With our frayed cotton dresses And brown, bony knees Into the bed with coloring books And a few […]
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Make it clear in my mind, Jesus,
am I whacked-out on Double Cross Vodka
or have I flipped out calling myself
Limburger omelet chef?
I hate question marks and angels
with crazed wings.
You know the type, John the Baptist
toking weed, stoned out of his mind, storyteller,
foul smells from poor hygiene, eating habits
open mouth, swallowing grasshoppers,
so silky, smooth as sweet honey.
Add 3 eggs in a skillet, Parmesan/Romano blend,
2 cheeses add-on, shiitake mushrooms, turmeric,
chopped kale, hint hot chili peppers, cheers.
Scramble me, I’m cracked.
I rock faith in jungle music, dance nude.
Everything is a potential poem to me.
My omelette, my life, my booze, master cook,
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DRUNK AND HELPLESS IN THE DARK
Some of us lie
Drunk and helpless in the dark
Waiting for the angel that never comes
Because there is no her
Beyond the sad spiraling reveries
Of the drunken insomniac
Smiling wanly in the glow
Of a halo
That exists only
HUMANITY IS DOOMED
I heard the birds that chirp at night
And I saw the cats under the tree.
I know the cats need to eat
And I know the birds want to live.
So here I am
In the parking lot of a Walgreens,
Rooting for nothing.
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