Listening to the Missoula Floods; a Calling (8/20/2020). -M.Weisgerber

 Righteous hard, flowing fast: hatred grown now then to last (this hard pain)

Crabby (11/20/2019). -M.Weisgerber

 The heat, the sun; hot to tarry ho!  Oh how the heart shivers for a world &
a girl as we two loved by the simple sea, now babe your frame rises up as 

a secret treasure known only between the we & us that's yet to be there is

a mallet on the table, a bib upon the chest - a loafing of the rest which is

commiserate w/ such highs; earrings?  There is a dew drop on your thigh,

a shaker maker of Bay of Olde beside each hand and nostril left to kiss, I

lift a pinky to remove a teardrop from a cheekside stained rouge delicate, 

seeking to set our passions dueling I, desire something you can take along

with your passing a gift to match your care, I need it (I want I want I want)!!

So she grumbles in hard dark, does not understand why or how I wander

when Fells moon lights a shining of the way, heading for the north part of 

the bay & her name & all our legs they feel so similar, wrapped so close.

Yet all I can think of is the man that came before, yea all I can do is

recall which it was is going yet to be; which street will lead you & me to 

we home now.  How many yellowed woods can lead out to azure sea?

I want to stretch out on these same sands that the brachyura roam, I want to

be eaten alive as their mandibles clatter closed (fine whiskers under chin)

use ever vertebrate bone to hold you, to know your moans, deep under

the same murky stars shining for thee; us.

I was here last year on the same loam as the same worries that fluttered near

I tiptoed carefully cuz sometimes shards of glass are buried there shallow

yet growing well now, feeling stronger with you & the days & the sights.

If you pry one tendril off my soul sure it's yours to keep, yet the hole fills

up so fast with filaments and fibers, gamely workmen reconnecting joints 

as the appendages gain traction along with a color blue: all else whispers!

Yet this same token exists to catch dust & souls, memories that move fast, 

quicker than her hand as she reached forth by which to accept (to smack),

oh how I (HATED) loved that simple starshine glitter in her eyes, dragged

her off the beach to dance out in the street between chickens fleeing bikes

her up to the edge of a soft bed where cliffside nears, a rush of hard waves

gobbling up shore & souls & worried memories fading fast, then CRASH!

So yea I have something small, the least of which to show I can care & if

you'll wear them once I'll know your mine, once is more than enough if 

when you come back to claim me (shame me, maim me both I swear)

I swear (sear?) I'll give you something else you simply cant lend back to me.

Never Thought I’d be Here, this Sadness, Madness Held (11/20/2020). -M.Weisgerber

What a day is this that I wake so cold & also so very much alone, I

a pitiful wreck another of a hundred million more designed for bait, kept

alive by malicious hands to shovel hate & superstitions your way, toiling

so hard as to make a heart & a brain forget; they call me wretched.

Swearing that you would pray, pay for all the love we didn’t have to have
Taking the time away from me, from us, everything in between.
Rotting inside a vision held, telling, told all.  (Insanity?)
Nueva is just a name - my game is love. 
 
Not. be care.  free there.  Free Love.
 
Make us
Free.
 
Falling apart, found somewhere in the black between the quasars, I trip, I 
spoil inside the sun you insist on casting, the war worth waging strung up 
on genitals preaching, high school high score being the all time high
all the time yes yet then still we are flailing there, high beyond goalposts.
 
There was a table too, white clothier there was on a wall behind, fast red
bleeding deep, pulling a weeping child & lover out through the void there 
that is everything that we doth now make & define & cast our lines, our 
lives, our lots beside the barnyard terrycloth pulling fast.  Shed there.
 
My mind seethes out there beside the partition where you criticized my 
tastes, my loving heart to collapse on wooden steps, making the turn 
where the dog carves witness marks for all the times we wouldn’t hug, 
wouldn’t yell out at the gloom that consumes your past holds fast to ware.
 
You wouldn’t pray, fucktard, when I asked, claimed Christian when your 
sex fast falling, a debauchery slogging fast (did they know we sexed upon 
the second time?) same as when you’re coming cast, no second cuming 
before the diodes shift, before the wand doth find that crotch I paid for. 
 
It.  Stings.  More than your nails upon a chest did rake, pull it up from the 
sands where I lay, passed the gold I poured a bottle full at a time into doth 
lies, does try upon the same swallowed pile as wont fit inside a mouth so 
greedy as not to let the words fly free – forgiveness isn’t in your nature.
 
Bastard.
 
So pack it into the ground, where I will say any words that will cut or 
score or make your mind forget not that hatred can have a flavor here.
 
Fed Freely.

It Starts with the Screaming (Oh My...) (9/13/2020). -M.Weisgerber

 Then the pleading, the begging, the whimpered whispered crying, oh God

giving way to the dreadful shame of flailing, knowing all what’s given, 
assuming what is soon to follow, Lord take it, cut it, sew it shut, let us 
know any other love than this, let me, let any other sight of us fail. Useful
 
For my heart breaks, my soul it shakes down to where toes touch nimbus
collapse to the floor, inhale the spores that nightshade offers so freely,
dying of dreams stacked so neatly; let the bones shatter at the sight,
breaking will come soon, but love how, just tell me oft how
 
you will look upon these words and not notice?  The pupils widen so, the
small part of your mind that witnesses each word & sentence sprung, not
from my pen but from a deeper well of this hive alive, these lips still 
quivering for your love, a moment, anything this world knows good.  Yet
 
sure she see everything a man has yet to give & say it’s not enough?  A 
LIFE?! it’s better than receiving (A KNIFE)? certainly held fast, quaking
hands are best to give, held then to condemn yet nothing more than the
very soul of a man; a human opened up more freely than tools allow.
 
So no, no, it starts with the quiet, then giving in to pleading, a mind
flaming out towards disbelieving; a breaking of a heart, yes I shook yours 
you took mine too, but love I swear that madness now is worth it, the 
many months of toil for a moment in the Son, I, I,
 
I want to take sexist attitudes & squash such simple faces, I want to yell
platitudes from rooftops I’ll never live to see, I want to ride, ride
hard shaped cold of polar opposites blended together, get rid of lines of
any equator or the other dividing parts that forever thus kept us apart.
 
Still more failure then yet to be.  Yet to come.
 
So how do you cast eyes upon this quaking face, the lines this blood filled 
socket of eyes that pass, rays from slanted turns of the earth, the very
pacing of the days giving in to night, the panic of the right to say I love.
 
You.  You mattered.
And if the red comes?  And the screaming, and the hate, oh you, love
if you thought just a simple betrayal was all that’s worst to offer, then you
no you didn’t know the poets odium or the talent of a torn mind.  No you
 
You didnt, dont know the furry of a man, the shaking of fists to dark skies
don’t know how to take to the seas; for he sails for days on hope, he
writes lyrics to an ode that crashes mightily on strange shores you’ll not
no simply will not ever need, to shatter & clatter again & again & again?
 
Fury, love, hatred – what do you know of this music, the words? I, I
shall show you madness held on the head of a grain of sand, I shall paint 
you a lighthouse collapsing into the sea, I & a hundred thousand million 
more of my ilk to come shall render your heart immortal, love.  Timeless.
 
A holler against hard surf, a trial between the nerves caught on razor rock
the space between the lip & the cup that goes where the heat makes it
dance between the moments of strange words, the blur of black upon 
the white, blue - no this knight rides not for you but for hope in hope itself. 
 
I want to be sad for all the days we never had, jump for the joys we kept,
conquered armies of legions of trial & despair knowing not your lies, lair
glorious, simply stunningly, those things you barely knew, held awhile
giving way to what’s to come; shadows behind the spots of sun, or fate.
 
All you have to do, all you have to do is…
 
So heart, dear other organs failing now or never meant yet to be, yet
(What is this feeling coming over my veins?) 
what is this sense, birthing beyond the shame?
Take me, make me, shake me all.  Hold me love, in deus ex rexa,
 
heed this wary call. 
(or with the simple knowing, take then and receive.)
 
It starts with the, it
starts with the
It
It starts with
 
(the pleading)
 
 
Adieu.  

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.)