The Coffeepot (8/3/2020). -M.Weisgerber

Frozen then, same as every day to wake & make the long walk, all echoes 

with bare feet slithering ‘long to make their own slow start to chores, let 

the dog out, check the food list, sun filters through cracks on all the south 

lawn closed doors locked fast where a sewing room screams neon green.
 
I hated her pot, despised the mourning ritual she would always do the 

same long legged no tamed miscreant deviancy, no leverage, no change 

in patterns yet made nooses rung quick many out on her back deck yet 

but I will miss her in time, her love, by degrees even her sordid name. 
 
I miss the way she does it well, the morning times, the routine that
Would wake me, shake the last vestiges of all the dreams of blank sights, 

nights a way from the screaming, pleading, premonition of our very lives, 

some leverage against ghosts of her womb, the rooms all painted red.
 
So slog on dear view over past worthwhile double sink, the avocado

countertops’ varnish that will hold our merry trappings, the love

there a maelstrom soon to catch, no latch upon the east gate for

I am stupid, and sometimes the dog slips out there, yelling after.
 
I spilled sugar there once, all the bottles this rum once held, the one time 

she showed me how they had had pried apart the utter floorboards, made 

the center of this house a home, a showstop scene; light in the north panes 

part pieces took my rough soul slipshot from there; grains stuck in cracks.
 
I miss the press, miss the scent, miss the way the fine hairs of her arm slid

long as fingers passed them, she would turn then with a chin lift, glance 

ever at the lower nub & I was slain, I was slain – green eyes that swept 

away the hate & left only love, LOVE, the better parts of my very name.
 
Tear filled then as on the last day, the little flecks of brown & chips in her 

mane as I neared from behind, held, felt the soft part of her heat transfer 

back to me, a hand easing up from chores to fold over the top mine, 

spooned fast, this moment long to last, then CRASHED FAST, no more.
 
So no I will not regret the whine of the buzz of that infernal machine: the 

pooch barks to be let back in, washer squawks as it is done, shoes on, & 

as the totality springs to life & her long car takes her out to somewhere 

else, somewhere sleek in all the jade, I stand in awe that even such love, a
 
girl that has somehow thus claimed me, tamed me, shamed me - both. All. 

Let these words not rot then up the higher shelf, let them be a
 
warning to your worth – oh shine on, dear grinder of my dreams.    

The Milkshake (8/3/2020). -M.Weisgerber

It turns, it yearns for blood; the spitting then the holding, the cutting 

beside the folding, lies set for unbecoming – needs. For she sees, she 

weeps now when she wakes alone, not sad, not glad, no not there, just no 

one here & in a kitchen full of chill days, light sliding sideways, the room 

brightening wildly without me & w/out south wide windows gaping wide.
 
I woke there beside the pour, flailed upon the many nights of fog &

tepid moors that didn’t run, dreaded heat that sunk deep inside our bones:
fast batter – oh so much soft layer on layer to form that strange cake
(this is what happens when the air is right): I am tired of wandering, lead 

hat on as I seek her, belying her past - I remain the voice behind the veil. 
 
I wish to watch her place my hand in that dicing blended rain, I desire to 

see flesh shear, disintegrate, fracture, crumble into all the small
words I need to witness for last of me before the cracking of the storm the

falling of the barn, her dorm, the hatred I’ve been warned to give before. 
Not this foolishness she wishes to be – not the better part of me?  Shame.
 
I woke to stand alone, hurt a heart by which to live.  Surrendered. 
But no, alas: I remain with! Such love - there is a circle of bright between the furrowing my brow at a worry that may never come, I
struggle, shake in the moods that we made, the love that is gone there for someone else to find, wind then, yet it never was truly mine to claim. 
 
I went to look for you in the sky last night, and no
you weren’t there – how I was not surprised, lost dots flying high for
there is no lady rising to greet, no signal that I’ll find, no pause that calls,
each day means so much less than the one before, not colored prayers, no 

cries between droplets, no time – only a man not worth his dime.  
 
So I shall show you terror - of pure hate on the head of a pin; I’ll display 

teeth that bleed upon the breaking, the hundred thousand veins giving 

way, chemicals that invade beside the music that once we what made 

upon that bed was white, then teal, then everything between my brain 

waves giving way. Custard on the mouth side, needing a finger fold.
 
Dribbling tall along this messy mountain, your sheets cupped me, tangled 

fast as I stumbled up, ran down the far drive, out to where the cragside 

could claim me, past where slave owners did twirl and beat me.  They?

A shadow that was we, a fractal that can open, seedling be, but…but…
 
But no – you, like I, we are not ever like that, never
gave up till the needing, sleep beside the sheathing, covered lashes,
not cold, so very chill, lips moving towards remorse:
oh, how my core, my eternal spring then my eyes, my very soul it aches.  
 
Be there now, before it takes me (we?  us?  gone now, forever)

Last Day (5/19/2020). -M.Weisgerber

Take as long as you need, she said, meaning
GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE AS QUICK AS POSSIBLE.
It’s her female palpations falling out of sync again I'm told, I’ve heard;

a simple brain thing I’ve insisted upon seeing, even if I believe da negative.
 
Even if the stars suddenly spell her name out in the sky, even if the moon
falls and crushes everything in this land; my hand reaching forth to draw, 

to claw out the very letters in sand or flesh or heart -
oh love, I know what it is to scream out at the moon in the dark.

For I am (she is and yet can be!)
loudica, fondica, manic & proud.  I have several guitars up upon my wall. 

Don't play the piano, don't you dare now touch my art, cant shift the near 

table set (don’t move the welcome mat) or you’ll only break my heart.
Dont pray w/ me, cant stay w/ me, don’t be any way or in my way or else.

Come into my home where I can hurry you out, come
into my chest, where I can bury you rottenest deep, clean up all
yes all my housewares, wherein so you can loose your mind,
pet my dog now and then no more (know only she'll forever be mine)
 
I'll be there for you, she cried, meaning I'm on my own again, same as 

when I started to see the flailing simple be, same as the cutting of grass, 

falling on my ass when I slip upon the tall steps, a cactus prick, the cat is 

sick; on leaving this seedling heart where she can find it, & grow it quick.

 
Fall fast with me, she said, meaning:
you saw me run once so get your count-down timer ready, its
coming soon like nobody's Jesus, just make believe Sunday someday, so 
prep your heart, beware your mind – know that you will never be a mine.

Still in these moments I love her, still now she makes me proud, still
yes my heart is failing  fast yet I cannot shift the prow, the snow 

accumulates on the back porch don’t put it on the shelf, dear loveliest of 

craven dravens held – don’t do this to yourself.
 
Don’t fly down fastest back roads, don’t once more change your name, 

don’t be anything but stunning, blame only me & myself this moniker my 

shame & the lost words so don’t consider doing it to your yes so be that 

you my love what is simply found simply cant be unlost (not yet anyway)
 
…at least, not if the heart it stands & is true. 
(Let it stand.  True.)

Other Name. -M.Weisgerber

She’s the only one whose potent
Ink on my page is caught, drawn in
Tones of teal on bars of silk;
Pausing nearby respiration or else
Taking time to break our nostrils wide.
 
She is my sweet automation,
Encyclopedia of misconduct open
To misconstrued answers, guts, and so many bugs!
Curved from knees to feet, hand to bleed
Sweetness in of my lips to part, not sharp, not
 
All the things I need or yet still wish to be.
A ships steel sunk to need –sleek, and deathly proud,
Curl her toes to the point tip, a rune to rub, a
Vein to poke or capture, or with such love to and
Then dance these nights away.
 
Forgive me, I peeked at the sight
Bare bottom exposed then to summer sun.
You don’t notice your care, you curse, your cars are
Filthy now, broken glass in chocolate melt
taking time swerving on busy streets.
 
This kindly place, all of stone,
Here, where we had written to exchange,
And then I to die in (of?) ecstasy, or perhaps
For another moment, another love,
Another name by which to fail its all only just the same. 
 
A timid pattern yet to break. 

Initial Meeting (7/27/2020). -M.Weisgerber

Oh gods am I going to catalog every inch & twitch & turn of her?  I know
the way it was meant to be, I, not wanting to be in this hot place, her a bit
bored with intonation, not realizing that she’s going to claim a heart, I,
 
carrying a dreadful secret, so much pain & shame & hate of the hard days
moving the very way a brain could bake or shake, longing for cold surf, I
thinking she’d just be another number, her not realizing I was hers to take
 
down, then I came to love her most, the way were in time, the simple way
she hated and loved me to the point of choking strange shapes out of me,
my throat down upon the lane that those 50’s people wandered?  Streets,
 
her long drive, a strange sub where streetlights burned so very bright
against the dark before I entered, green grass against silence passing – it
is a swamp though which a heart could yet not drive it.  Out?  No, soon.
 
Oh lord, I think it is true, & in the first glance I had, you so tall, you so
self-assured & everything in between, reminding me of love as I lost my
self upon the heat, the scent, the very way glanced beside August fire,
 
cooking its way fast through the last of summer days, in a land I didn’t
want to be with a girl I didn’t then or yet as know didn’t want to open
or unfold, mostly from fear, mostly from the open heart getting shot again
 
she hoping to take me for a change, care for anyways – for a little while?
Didn’t know I needed to claim her too, didn’t know shame would not be
coming with self perseverance, or yelling, or passing or failing all, no.
 
Oh pain, oh lingering doubt red amongst the folds, a probability aligned
with the stars, the very moon, the high noon was gone as soon as I
learned to disagree; fickle then, heart so bold.  Don’t have to glance back
 
at the starcharts to find a match, somehow knowing the moon was full,
the very way she sat with long boot out tapping I assumed I made mistake
she’d fill me in as I would her soon enough in time, this lie, almost free..
 
“You can’t love her” they say, but on that Dante would disagree,
the pen shivering upon my knee, the tastes lingering on the lower lip the
quavering of a solid breast breaking upon the way we made up the rest.
 
Yes, we are ghosts within, woke upon the machine, yet
Somehow its all beginning to make slow perfect sense now, it’s
patterns form, the day give way to the temporary shelving disbelieving.
 
 
 
Sure, my first wrong thought was how to get you hot to bed, yes
My first impure passions gave way to need, tears, yes, all the subtle
Simple ways I came to love you weren’t worked out till the very end, yet
 
you claimed me, shamed me, unwound me thread by thread so that I,
simple fool that I came into this world as was, ready now for fighting, be
at call n beck for the way you bend your knees, back needing cracked,
 
Pop of jaw and flex before you held me, it was swell that we played days
On days of NEW, yet I never saw you sew!  Never once baked bread, no
didn’t meander boardwalks nor hold hands, separate ways drifting close,
 
her fast lips caught amongst the balm, the way she drank & cried fast of
her lost dad, & I then found my armor gone; I found my heart shift & I
somehow knew then that a day, a year, a lifetime would never be enough.
 
Could you see the bright sun on the wood of the places I used to play?
As a boy how much they meant, how I wanted you there, to stay, do you
know what it is to fall babe, new contagion on the land as the sun sets?
 
Oh God, these words like meeting your face are likely just a curse
to call at the many lovers that follow such strange paths, out onto the
Land mary countryside or what remains by the time I am done, for
 
I burn and yearn and want all that grass in all the countrysides that have
ever been to molt to char to turn the way your subtle look made ash of
piles so out of me, that log in fire trying to call out, forward, prepare, yet
 
margarita before the beer, hard to believe its going to be at least a year
before I miss the way we loved, love the way we kissed, missed you more
than a heart should could bare before it fractures, swollen so, chinks lil.
 
Thirty-three, striking out like Jesus does upon this strange merry land
chatting up stranger words, odd lyrics, that are beginning to be beautiful
somehow before the sun sets, before rain cools chiminea burning, all is
 
heat here, the sweat it is pouring so hard so fast so whenever you are near
Down.  All fall
Down.
 
I came to a fire beside a shore, a cantina upon the bend to claim her, but
in the end it was me and we and all these foolish words that only time can
mend then matter, & the way we once danced upon hard surf.  All is hard
 
here
and in time it all falls
drown.

You Hated (10/21/2020). -M.Weisgerber

You hated lying in that grave of a body that for so long made

up all the bitter hairs the fruit, the teeth rotting out between your smile, I 

hating the way this bed is larger now, so empty there that the thought of mad

ness goes way further than your lost deeds or mine.

You hated the way I grinned, loved there in the dead of night with I and this sickness 

missed you so much as to fret and worry and I didn't think to sleep or nod or drink since

deep of that poisin you tend to so deep, its well runneth over 

beyond your back gate, the far stoop, out the drive out to where your land ends where

the wood it rots, my heart it rots, the heat it rots it out too, all

the very last sweating part of hatred that I have for anything as

the grave opens wide and I tumble right in, by

your arms only now by your sides (when all I want, the molecules themselves crave to fall right in)

You hated that body of a grave so long, that I started to wonder why I cared and I and if

that tide could ever be beat (I should have fallen right in, swam so out to see) and I

out on the front porch now having to glance back as I walk away and I wondering if

the nails will give away and that timber one day will simply cave on down, inward.  

Take this hammer then, see what goodness a head can hold.  

Swing batter batter...if only one for park, then try one for the road.

Benethe the Miller Sign of Higher Life (5/25/2020). -M.Weisgerber

"Will you love me?"  she said, looking scared, seeming now arrested beneath wide sheets, my

hands clasping fast, face turning with the day outside, confusion on the mind slowly gaining;

a slipping sort of mental fatality growing deep.  Wheezy with the realization, garbled, mangling.

Falling fast beside the long fields.  

For we pretend met then in Dallas beneath the hot sun, the tarmac waiting, calling so for

your breath bating the threat of a dark horse arriving, in that she subtly asked

"Was your trip good?  Did you see all there was to do?" I not knowing what best to say

both of us now without clothes, her laying sideways as we always know time is slim.'

Yes the simple days would have passed thus in a haze, yes we would have lost ourselves, woulda

stayed the stout same caring yes I cared yes it matter(s)ed, yes its coming round rain again, yes its

falling fast now certainly its a strange tilt, the brightness grows, mortality holds

thick indeed as the bludgeon calls again, indeed its failure before the eyes fast a growing.  

Feeling thin, feeling any which way then to turn.  

To burn.

"Where do you want to go next?" I asked, flipping through the tube, the many brochures

lying thick round in a fan untouched from the day before, the digital clicking down

I think then we both were aware that we arrived on borrowed time, stranding continental divide

living the best between the stuffy sheets, the pieces of you and me - Mexico, I should thus say.

I content to watch her from any such cot through the long day, help her pack the undies

that both of us sometimes drop between the giggling, those tiny shards barely fabric

she enough to wind and love me, the simple ways we knew each other long, compatible in red

The Mississippi's that rage between us.  

The day receding round, the lack of caring of all other things as we held

yes the fucking WE made, going insane, going down another hole together 

yes the small parts simply mattering, yes that 3D Wolfenstein a calling, the ultimatum beginning 

Yes I cared and love, and now I have so little time to say, to hold her.  A little more time.  Please

I now make up the clouds begin to form beneath the crystal shape of a weeping eye, your

days make up the passions I hold, and though simple they for me are the great, the escape.

Anywhere closer to your love, your frame.  

Yet Dallas does not relent in heat yes the breweries called, yes

the art scene staggered uncontrollably yes the tempered winds blowing behind us now, yes

the very flat of the land is something that calls us outward, onwards - this is

what they call winter here, and sure you simple open pustule busting fell for my insanity yes

I tell her again and again the words that matter so.  The shoes scuff.  Witness marks hold us close

more honest than we ever knew ourselves.  Yet we have to look!  Gaze upon the Gorgon's maw, fall

into that fast love that maelstroms could not shake us, she, bleeding dearly, I this open wound

twisting open for a knife that has not been crafted for me to receive.  

I forever will be in love with you yes I made these words, the scenery up instead.

So the flat day moves on, the winter sun hangs low, yet 

"Will you hold me?"  she asked again unto the breeze, her long

neck pushing close, my hands these bitter things crafted just to mend.

"Yes," I said.  Forever and always, yes thus I meant, hopefully said latter part out loud.    

Wanted to take away such pain, only adding such instead.  

All Seasons (11/5/2020). -M.Weisgerber

Oh lover oh lover, look her at all the fall color!  It matches

you hair, the soft folds of that perfect dress look so

marvelous, alive as we turn and dance and as we revel

in so much simple candor!

Oh lover oh lover, when then can we thus be in love forever?

For winters first frost only adds to such astounding charm, the 

sun catches you just right on long lashes as you lean in for the long kiss, a

beau, a beauty, my lovely so!  (How I am smitten, I am slain!)

Oh lover oh lover, in your arms I find springs slipsilver luster, a

playful time for banter!  You are the bounce in my step, as we

stroll across the meadows, the park, all - a garden in your very eyes.

Your hands were made for holding, and in time you took mine...

Oh lady my lady, you are my land of eternal summer!  The

grace by which to sing about, the distant lightning in soft night 

skies rolling over, a hard clap, whispered rainfall washing out upon this 

opened soul, begging so for the love and wishes and moments made for two.

It is the fine wine of loving utterly, lost so in your draft 

a bit of gold for your loving, gentle hand

a nearing footstep on the dusty moor

the way I love you now, and (get ready for it! XD) yes, forevermore.  

your cat is misssing (11/11/2020). -M.Weisgerber

then my heart stops, the worry rising too, oh God

where did I place our bags, the heat rising over the day, your

strange face being lovely so, so hot, so sticky sweet yes, yet

where can a lady hide: the house is only so big!

the dog is where she should be yes

my gato is passed out on the lawn yes

i realized real quick i'm surrounded by fems, you

are one of the braver ones yet this is signaling now of the end

did we check the house, canvas the yard??  I don't know

what to do, where to go, what to say, how now best to love you, the

day goes on, the beach it calls, oh god I lost my job, my life, my girl, a hope

...a wife?  (coulda, woulda, shoulda...but not this time it seems)

so much road to travel down, so many tears yet to cry, yet

honest to god I always think my life was meant to end there in the surf, the waves;

the Carolina sunset where all dreams must eventually go to rot.  

To die.

where did I put the car keys, is it my turn yet to drive?  the

day grows hot, our tempers quick the whole rest of the day written here

a sigul best to keep, all the treasures told, but I should have known it then

the moment I didn't think, it was over when your cat had snuck away.

Oh, she's here in the foyer - time the to really start the day!

Leaf Rake (11/12/2020). -M.Weisgerber

First morning, of the rest of our lives!  Its

brisk out here, me tripping over everything in your garage, waking you up, along

with the dead passings, finding the tools, traipsing over ten years of your gentle planning, all

you the witty ways you placed those knickknacks, the clever things, making honest sense.

You unsure what silly I'm about to do, me piling light fluff in a pile before your dog jumps in

Laughing past the cold, working hard to beat the snow (thinking of planting grass seed in spring)

The first time over, the first moment to claim a heart, the first wonderful way I'll sneak 

up on you from behind not for fear, only for a goosing, then a hug, then more love (repeat all around).

The lawn isn't dead, just covered.  Your fears dissipate with cheek on cheek, a flush, another

rake pull and I am whole, another bag open and I have worth.  A house, a girl, her heart, this world.

I don't need to glance up to sense you gazing down, a high porch, a worry-wort, another night, the one

where she invited me inside!  Oh, a lucky guy, feeling great, feeling strong, another bag

out now to the curb cuz you know its funny how ten years of trouble can vanish in a hug, yes

I love you, yes I want that evenly yoked amazingness you casual mention after dark, yes

I want to keep these timeless treasures eternal (even as you 'harrumph', trying to figure me out!)

You didn't know what this means to me, allowed to clean, allowed to care, allowed

to go at my own pace, to run my hands through your hair, pull that lovely sideways grin in

close where kisses can occur, the joy of how I always enjoyed doing this as a kid, missing home.

(your dog rushes over!)

Soon I'll be in, soon too tea will be made and we will laugh and make cheer, there

is love there and it is right here and all the simple slow words make perfect sense.  

...next week I might start in on some decorations then in earnest!  XD

(like everything else, that is...if you'll let me!)  XD

Your Birthing (9/4/2020). -M.Weisgerber

There is a line in the sky drawn from me to you,

out to the horizon, out to the part where the better part it 

calls out of the blue, clinging fast to threads of the world

there, everywhere, there is a strong hill calling fast as...as

As the angels weep, as the dead the stupidly blind call for

release. 

As they witness what should and yet shall be.  

How can I, how should I, be, there, always

when you wont, can't simply make it

shake it, bake it, can't always then or 

what it simply seeks tries to be.

See it for it is in we, see

the waves glancing there, rolling off the topaz sea, see

tired then of trying oft to be thee, that

exhausted part, trying only to be.

Me.

You can't go, can go

(gotta go)

call it what is is

call

call it 

call ME

just call it what

call

it what it needs to 

be.

Just call, 

it is

what it is 

just another, your brother, it is

another...another...

call me then in a maybe far away

call me then there on, another day

Clinging fast to the fine lines, the thread

As the angles weep, as they scream out, cry then for release.

How can I, should I love, take a hand and heart

when you wont, can't make it, take it, shake it

see what it seeks to be.

See it for what it is in WE, see

the waves roil in the hard wine, an ocean, the sea

tired then of trying to be, exhausted

being me.

Screaming then, that 

petty thing.  

Down now, lost then to

another mind.  

The Flight (9/22/2020). -M.Weisgerber

Oh dubious fool, oh eloquent slinger of wit!  You faltered, you failed, you

twisted heartily in the wind, you...you...should have fallen from that great height, simply should

could not plot the way to keep that life alive, burning, turning in the bay you see that flame see 

the ways that could not matter to the word, the world, a light, you worrywart - brat upon my mind.  

Be there!  Cold to hot, down to back, there is nothing more than those times, nothing

better than the way we uplift ourselves, no more fool than to drive the others round to

jungle fruit, mofongo coming in a ready pile, laughter between the branches and that

one soft hammock where I tickled her feet, and really then loved her there above the tile.

So here I sit, flounderer of shame, here I pine for that girl further south, that flame - here I fall, bottle

slipping further from the upper shelf, here I go down again, so far; the opposite of landing.

Down you witless twat, out you philonious fool bickering every night!  What do you know other

than hope, other than the one sheer assumption this wont work, still you love, on you tarry and yet 

With a heart falling apart, mind chirping daily (hands thus shaking warily) you know

she wont read these words, really then never did the loving, wont, cannot, shall never, no, thus

did she ever love you...

Wont ever...didn't ever...I...I...so...so...

So why torture yourself as so?

The words don't matter, the day begins to fade, the dust

rots upon the bottom lip, yet here you sit and pine and cry and

try not to make it go all away.  

Pray for it then - you're going to need it...

-----

I flew then, once in a hard car, praying for the white lines, stepping fast on gas at last, least

hoping it wasn't too I, we, too late for another night just get there, push through the pass a warning

Oh how I've failed, I've failed!  She, a noble mind rotting all the way down, I simple fool born to fall

embrace of my heart, the knowing that this is it, better to get there soon, better to push for

something greater than that we are creating, better, better be. Best. There is screaming still to come, yes,

yet for a little while I may chance these surfs, the skies, the fast sand sticking  upon the hair, the

Simple way she worries too.  

Oh porch moper, no ring upon the mantle, don't holler at yourself, just push, 

just...just...

No bark upon the doorstep, no footsteps in the hall, just the tumbling out to basements that

whose floorboard now is carpeted (it has that wet funky stink in the fall), it makes

it easy for the elbows not to scrape, not hear me at my leaving, no...no...not approaching so...so..

Oh, the look in her eye, the hope on her lips, this imagination running wild!

No mountains here to guide me, only the heat of this island dark, just get there, push pedal onward ho?

This jestered fate, I knowing I've failed again cuz I loose everything (eventually even my name)

Oh love, in this moment I am captured, and with these greens and peepers, the coqui

matching your widening eyes, matching that Carvey sort of smile, your bicep showing, your, your..

no matter what else is to come you cannot remove this smitten attempt I have for you!

The beach then appears!!  There are footsteps on the plan, a woman

on the sand is moving there is moonlight fast arising, a hilltop; there is for one bright moment, a

hint of hope, a tinkling then of windchimes, a hand, a man, I stand...I....we

mattered.  Yes!  We are going to make it, yes.  Indeed.  The son tomorrow hot

will rise on us and hope and the simple fact I love you.  Too.

...that thought alone enough to make it through the rest of days.  Soon.

So make it, pray it, soon babe you will see these words and know I

know I...that I... (get those blankets, have them fast enrapt us!)

Nothing else will matter, nothing soon to shake us!

I love you love you do, and under this full moon I'll love you more

each day better than the last, each moment coming a gift to see your face, no more shame no

more hurt there, no smattering, no doom, just the simple fact I love you

and made it down here today.

ahhhwaa-diue!!  ;)   

These Things (and We) In Time Shall Fall Apart (10/20/2020). -M.Weisgerber

Yes, your are a monster.  Read these words and know they are true.

For now.  Somehow.  Till we and all and you and they and them (can) can break them change them.  

Make them, shape them, take them for another time, so simple and so...you, they...true...I

rot as all the hairs on your upper lip do, fall there as I did, for your heart to cut to sift, I...I...its true...I..

So hey love, I read your last messages sent, remembered how terrible you have

treated us, the world at that time and place and it was (they are) such awful things.  

You called out once before as night fell you are

you are you are you're, this is

a horror in the night, a list of several wounds opening all at once, the pretty girls all still looking at 

their facebook feeds, dressed in hiking attire climbing who knows where to

piss off the high peaks, raining death on every mans life you encounter, that slithering down forever to 

I hate these words, I hate the type script they meander off of, I

hate now the best of me and the lakes, the nearby oceans best for drowning in, I hate

type them as they beat at me, I write them as I know they aren't true as I then

fall apart when I saw the sentences you thought might be best strung

together my throat holds a belt for a tightrope a séance on high, falling soon.  (Forever?) I

Dangerous things, choking myself there in the dead of night, the dream you call of

death so close as to steal what little breathe I care to call my own I, you didn't try I

Its the things we string ourselves together for you and I and we and they and...someone...else...

...something there?  Women.  Do you know how to hold them close?  Do you to laugh at us as

they fuck in the dead of night, they break us in that house you and your husband sought, broke, bought

Do you know how you look, lined up right?  The same 1940s stunning, turning tired thankless red and

the shaking of a bed as you crawl towards me, thighs high on each side of a face as mine BREAKS for..

You are a monster, I so close behind, this mirror I (we) there

falling apart, I just being the same as you as are, snuck behind at least

woman to woman, not soul to bound hand to hold, not

soul to fold, not arm to dice not, everything that's turned out so very wrong still

such fragile things, the stupid teacups that we never bought, the vanity turned close the

art your house holds up for naught, the way the heat

sneaks in through all the smallest pains, the way

in the basement you'll find my love, my heart, the breakings of my brain you then there left you

you have that big house your husband's paying for, I

falling further, a circle spiraling, thickening, turning round. 

The kettle is still warm, yes

the kettle is war(m). 

Break it now before the thick; soon as the tepid crème it...it can rise.  

(A UFO, now hovering close - so black this thing.  So dark)

Grass Cutter (5/29/2020). -M.Weisgerber

Holy God love, I woke to myself and a large hole that now resides, 

stuck all the way below the throat broach, a hiccup following close, lost tunes upon the juke

carved all there by thick blades, or the untangling of those vines that wrapped your trees, the way

its June now - the way you once let me  simply lie there and love you.

Its time for cutting, love, and though you do not enjoy such falls, you

have then to know that its together we lift, together we thrive, together a way I break my mind, its

the haunting now not of manors, or streets or cities whole its, me love

finding all the parts then to jam deep into shuttered eyes.  A waking sleepful time.  

The part of you that I really tried to be, a land of opportunity missed (somehow 'Married Land' failed) somehow sitting on your back porch, sipping tea upon the high dive, fighting

both you and the wasps in a hard way, any way, the summer sliding over, striving fast

to earn the righteous life, the simple stay - a pushing to not let madness win this or any day.

I knew the words that mattered - I was so scared then now then always then to trust you 

(to live in the shadow of that life, a light, a home - any, all)

For a man can carve deep too, he too can hate all the same supple way as you.

Your insides giving way as you push the hard mower, guts, a uterus nigh as you sift through long grass

There is no blood upon the back deck, there's no footsteps in the hall, there's no

shouting from your bedroom, there's no ghost of me anywhere at all.  Failed things.

The one you hated to build, the one that there is carved in sin

the one that got the better part of you and I, the part that dies (died)

camina down below then, ready to catch wide the flame.  

Take it, make it, shake it, burn it, both.  Take my picture, put it where it belongs then on the shelf.

Burry it, carry it, tarry it ho.

The glass is risen, there is no crucifix in your house, there's

no reminder of the past lives, there's your no

journals rotting beside the gulf, there is...  (No bedframe giving way).

Do you let it now get overgrown?  Your mind I mean, the time watches take to show.  

Put that slide grass love maker across the way, a dead man on the lawn, a cutter

fearing all the insects buzz there, trying to think of what dads story suggestion could mean, didn't

contemplate the coming fade days only working hard, the cross didn't come here to save, the man, 

the grass its all the same.

To ensure I don't fold down there along with it - architect fateful who couldn't even build a home.  

  

Its always the worst before the next one (the clippings have a scent, I mean)

I can't think of pears, or your tidy shorts swaying in humid breeze; no songs.  I can't help

but fall again on the way its meant to then, should have been I cant

but simply sit and doodle or therefore fall apart, I think 

of the way you screamed at me when you left the truck, the tow, the dark - no human should endure that

no hatred will ever be as complete as (unless its simply disposing of a child?)  your love maybe

yes there is failing potential on this side, yes still worse than screams, yes worse still than, the man

who cheats still then at life, who knocks the very sanded foundations down, not build.  No fault there

than all the broken promises, yet I took the hammer to do what needed doing.  Myself.

I'm broken now, and though you may read these words and find new ways not to care, they, we

mattered.  We matter still.  I for one will not forget, the hornet stab of light, the

slugs out upon your kitchen door at night, the way I needed you to pray with me. 

A time.  That fresh start.  

Yes the heat rises here and I longingly desire on another carpet fresh, yes I wish

to chance it, yes to claim any passing tick who can feast merrily on what they find there, yes to

wish to close that back shed (the one where I forgot my boombox till you found it), the one

where everything goes to give way - the sweat upon your brow, the dangling fast on fine hairs.  Yes.

I dredge and I dredge and these words are now all I'll ever have except your hate

and when you get desperate enough to make anything grow, even that fertile soil

tastes cold, harbors simple monsters out on the hard snow we both know soon is coming

seems ripe enough to love to want, to break - no hot hate to melt away the lessening day.  

No fruit trees failing there.  Scratching my supple brows when bending.

(No leaves this or any year to rake) 

All I keep thinking is "how long could we have lasted: what really does it all mean?"

That ending brings time closer to you so soon, that

the grass is done the leaves come fall and

I sit and type forever, this a man covered up then in green.   

Sleeping soon, ah yes forever like.  All left to say then is

Adieu.  

All Your Songs are Angry Sex (3/4/2020). -M.Weisgerber

Happiness is a, thinks a, its a

fleeting whimsy thus away.

a drink to hold, of a breath to take, shake this, take this

god hole, fuck soul, fleeting memory to fade far away.  

Punk is,

Happiness now doesn't simply

Taste the same.  Gulp it all, now then smartly

down.  Make it, shake it, take it 

down

to the hole?

(Yours or mine?)  For

Punk is.  

Didn't know though, didn't see in then in time

falling now - is this me?  Is this the way 

love it's always meant to be.

Archeologist for another day, digging deep

make these hands of clay, shape them

make them dig, make them hold a beating heart, make

the supple ways I fall again matter so, make it matter, make it

count.  

All your songs they sound the same, all the
jazz flowing now through my open mind, all the

tales flowing outwards still, all the fingers now are bone, the deadlocks fall, punk is

all the thinking of you, and all the little fumes, all the times, the mess we made

no more lies.  

PUNK IS

Like the time I came out up upon your pants, like

the time I critiqued your work (I failed) like the fact your simply

not happy, like, your not having any of it, like your chastising all, also stuck also in your 

You'll ignore these words, the rants

as long as God lets it.

Your basement is out there, its holding us.  

Grab your husbands couch.

Punk is dead, there's some autocracy in the air, its shape

the same as the weight in your heart. Thicker than.  Thinner than.  This

Punk is your leaden weight, wrap it around these veins, punk

Put its face upon my name, carve, it is.  Punk is.  Out of words, some, w(h)ere lame.  

Shape it, make it...take it.  Make it.   Let.  It .  be.  me.  

  

Punk is history: I'll put it on my shelf, with all the Miles

of Davis collection growing beyond the gulf.  All the Beats

L's growing weary at my mournful tale, all the

pointless footsteps in your hall, all the

Punk is

failings that you cant seem to hold, not just me, punk is, everyone, cept the.

(God now its someone else)

Punk is dead, god let it crown our self appointed king, punk is it it

didn't build your house, punk is, your hopes, your name, your ever failing

dreams.  Punk is, it only kept you from me, punk is

Let it be you whose married then for the third time, no, punk it, fuck it

Punk,

cut your name upon your husbands heart (I wanted it to be me) out.

beyond the simple shores call, no third

trimester three a calling then, no we no thy no art no thou't.

Cut it, call it, out.

You know of sloppy seconds, you

see the way you move?  The

night air didn't frame you, punk is the

simple way you...you...

Punk didn't save a soul, punk

didn't try to rytme, punk looks

like the way your fuzz is beginning to smell, punk

doesn't seem to make the time.  

Punk didn't shave your heart out, punk

didn't give me back the love of mine, punk

didn't hold the shelf up, punk

didn't help find the cat that one time.  

Punk is.  Friendship all the no more

fucker toss himself outside your kitchen door.

Fucker breaks another mind apart, fucker is

all your doing is wasting time.  

Take it now, make it shine.  Punk is.  

Take my heart, give it to someone else instead.  

Punk is.

Break it out, shake it out, give it

to someone else instead.  

Punk is.

For happiness is always just

(fuck it, do you know?)

happiness is always just,

another day.

Take it, make it, break it,  Punk is

away, take it, make it, shape it

all the same. Punk is  

All just another, simple

 

Day

Away.

(From me?)

Punk is.

Punk is.

Like you, I

let it, I

(Punk is)

rot.

Almost Heaven (9/27/2020). -M.Weisgerber

I will show you love in this handful of dirt, 

I will take a hand, make a vow till change this land, I will

I will. I will.

Make it.  Right.  

Shake it.  Break it all.  

Right

(Enough even,

to change a mind (?))

I entered in there, tearful, bright white satin still and laughter on the mend

head full of snow, crowds gathered close, lifting each other in

the ways it was always meant to be, me, we, a pocket full of hope.

Long hair drifting close, whispers past a nose falling down all over.

"Hello," I spoke to the wind, saw recognition almost in that face

slow in the coming, another howdy, another day then passing

There is no hurt in this place there is, only coming to go, there is

nothing here so she can't see the way I move, can't see there is no 

simply moving on.

I will show you love in a handful of sin, I

will show you the soft lower belly of a man.  I will

do my best to do it all over again, I can't make it, cant shake it

can make it right.  Now.

Can't remember the good times, can't see past the moons shine here, no

there are worms growing below this place, there are

things that move just below the sight, gravel giving way, there are

open pits so near to name.  No shame.  

Looking up to the hard light, shaking fists past the thick lines

Don't know what the taste of cocaine is or could be don't know

how your doing now, but in this place, its all of white, its

the subtle collapsing of a mind, it is.  

I will show you love in this handful of dirt, 

I will show them a world without the hurt.

I will break the very turn of the sky I am

Armageddon man, a heart of hurt.  A prayer just flying by.  

There is no shapeshifting past this place.  So,

I saw her face standing there, we knowing the deeper things, still

able to share a chuckle and a good tale and even though I love her now, always, we

are a lifting of hands out in the night, we are

the way foreheads smack together just right, we were

a flipping her over on the bed I was, everything she needed just right then, we

were everything that could take on this world and walk down that drive and I

then knew how to make it.  ...right  

We spoke for a long time, her not burdened by another man, she

always made then for the running, I with a knapsack full of catsup,

posies filling up the other hand, the dead brain giving way, flesh giving in

babe in this place we are all passed on, all rotting bone past gone.  

another vibe rocking on.  

I will show you love in this handful of sand, I will

show you the better part of a man.  I will, be those things that once you spoke

I will, I will

break it.  

Shake it.

Take it.

Slow.

So she passed me then in cut suit laying thin, she

moved on because that heart knows so very little pain, lost then

no hurt here, no remembrance of the bad times, so

I don't exist to that heart floating on, burning still, shining on I

don't know what to do with guitar in hand, no tunes on radio playing

its all coming in as static, the slight noise claiming times.  I don't know

what her name should be, or why I recall her face, the place where we

fell then for a fast love.  Will stand here till the end of time.  

Lost now in this place of bright, this

time of coming

white.  

I will show you love in this mouthful of grins, 

I will take an ear, make a vow to change

how it is I will. I will.

Make it.  Shine bright.  Shake it all night.  Break into that heart all

Right

as it was meant

to be.