the goblin

long breaths between words

tracing floor tiles with my gaze

did you know if you close one eye 

look through your fist at a corner

you can trick your mind into seeing

the ceiling coming towards you?

 

accusation, blame, How Could Yous--

yes, i say, i see how this caused harm--

sorry, that is to say, how I caused harm--

 

well, it seemed pretty normal to me

at the time; only in my head, obviously.

i cannot raise my voice in self-defense

without adding insolence to my sins:

 

 i plead guilty, and find the punishment

 is to plead guilty, forever.

 

you know what else is on that list?

disobedience, the sabbath, murder, gluttony.

we pick and choose the ones to name.

let's all recite it back now, liturgically: what a shit i am

in my head

behind my back

to my face

whatever. say it with feeling, please, everyone.

 

once upon a time i thought i'd suffocate, so

i talked myself through the claustrophobia:

see, there's air here, i'll be fine,

i cannot move, but i can wait.

calm, go back to sleep, and

when i wake, it will be ok--

 

i look up, looking sad, because i am

contrite, because she needs me to be: 

clear my face of wincing,

of any grimace that might beg

for mercy, which would commit the crime

of withstanding her righteous blows.

 

it's hard to feel pity for someone

who's doing such a good job of it themselves--

but who cares? i do feel sympathy for her

expressed against myself, the antagonist.

 

how dare i steal from you

myself! how dare i act like an owner.

maybe you'd want it someday, and 

anyway--it's yours! look how i caused

tremendous harm; how i wounded you

by taking myself for myself

after saying you could have me.

  

a long time ago, i remember wanting her

despite myself, before she started hurting me.

now i force an image of my want for her

despite myself, to keep her from hurting--them.

 

she thought i loved her--but now,

tragically she feels dumb for having stayed:

it seems i have nothing, or not enough

to offer her, after all. how bad for her!

 

everyone, or nearly so, in prison

thinks they are innocent, wrongly held:

the true victims. so i do not protest

my innocence, which i know to be false--

 

now i confess my confession's shortcomings.

see how defensive he is, she says, how sullen

and unrepentant! --i am standing here

doing nothing, which too is a crime.

 

a morbid curiosity:

how hard can she strike me?

she's hitting pretty hard, but 

i brace for what she's holding back.

i lift my eyes; but the mountains hold no love

for me. the sea, even the sky, glower too.

 

the world is dark and new. i am a goblin 

who yesterday was a prince, still living

in the palace of a kingdom that loathes me.

my spirit tells me i am still a human, but the mirror

now only grunts and slobbers like a thing accused.

 

Epilogue

 

well. hate on, you mongrels, you shriveled husks

who've never loved. i'll stay and eat this fetid meal

second after second, year on year; bide my time

until my wretched goblin-spawn can flee

your cloying, pawing grasp and find 

whatever lies beyond your bitter gates.

cast your mud,

land your harshest blows, 

spill my blood:

i know who i must be. 

 

all your angel-voiced hates 

are senseless, desperate, clanging gongs to me. 

oh, rattle on, weak souls. i will regrow 

these pounds of flesh you claim. 

i will find the light beyond you.

i will find the light beyond you:

i will sleep and when i wake then 

i will find the light beyond you!

2020

faces

 these lying faces

 all mask no soul:

 

 this one face-on is a skull,

 from the side, a weeping child

 blue eyes looking full of tears

 even when they aren't.

 

 my soul begs: no more, no more,

 take me away from this--

 

 how can i say this?

 you are a ripe fruit

 juice running down my chin

 these others, a bite of air.

july 2023

marriage therapy

she wept for two days

and in the margin it was lightly theorized

he may have trauma, too—but can he

please dissociate, help her inner child

from the third person: he must have been

so awful to you, he says about himself; he is 

so sad for you, he says from a wince, waiting for

himself or her to wound him with fresh blame; 

now will he please shut the fuck up and pretend

they are both hoping for a better decade.

a whole decade! another She told him

it would probably go on like this for five years

because of stubbornness; because of Church;

but She couldn’t wait for him. ok;-- he'd said. 

the calendar slips past our hearts, leaving scars

on everyone, it seems. he hands across the box of tissues

hoping she sees compassion on his blank face. 

june 2023

Doctrine

 Mortify the flesh

forever: so

I will die with these desires

frustrated, unsatisfied

or else condemned—

there is no path with joy.

Was I born to offend God?

Is life only penance?

Seems wrong;

but, broken that I am,

maybe I wouldn’t know.

Let the spirit lead you;

in salvation, be free of guilt;

et cetera; ok. —But

that doesn’t explain for me

these valleys of my soul

these continents in my heart

created only to see

if I can destroy this part of myself

again and again

forever.

may 2023

unkind

 It was unintentionally unkind 

 of that girl I dated

 for a year—years ago, how many? eighteen?—

 to cleverly point out the water towers:

 round, industrial things, steel scaffolding

 with short cone tops, capping

 every tall building in New York.

 Two marriages and five kids, between us

 and still the water towers remind me

 of a perfect spring week with her

 making art, making love, in her posh flat.

 I’m older now, less attractive, beaten down,

 “moth-worn,” Orwell would describe,

 and we haven’t spoken in years.

 How tragic that the happy past

 seems so much further up and closer in

 to the Heaven we imagined than today.

april 2023