Posted in Poems by the Brother on May 10, 2011 by familialdiscontent

The gap between my molars
must be a cozy cottage;
the worst house on the best street:

not much to look at, but
plenty to eat and drink.

Painful as it is,
it’s comforting to know
that there’s something
alive in us all.



Posted in Poems by the Brother on April 30, 2011 by familialdiscontent

It’s much like the the sprawling ruin
with the endless staircase:

every arcane cold grey block
icy and smooth under panicked feet;

it carries waves of orange fire deep within,
but somehow gutted and turned around:

licks of flame pierce the eye
after the break and the crash.

Much like that, and much like the terror
in sleep; something huge and green

always two stone steps behind
or two steps above

and you left both hot and cold
like an inauthentic dish

Authentically turned inside out
like a bowl of fried ice cream.


Posted in Poems by the Brother on April 16, 2011 by familialdiscontent

enters in a gust of
fresh pine cool
and a sour mash haze;
latched on
trash bragging angle
reaches in skin deep
chasing the take;
not suave
too raw

spreading on paved shapes;
to explore

on your horse
keep on truckin’
but remember:
time passes, Slick.


Posted in Poems by the Brother on March 26, 2011 by familialdiscontent

he displaces much of the air in the alley

his tattooed tuart limb
felled by some neural lightning storm
could crush a truck

and yet
big fingers prowl the pallet
as if cats’ heads lifted to sniff the wind
carefully nip cardboard coats at the neck
clutch cases like kittens

Sharing a birthday with Billy Collins

Posted in Poems by the Brother on March 22, 2011 by familialdiscontent

Rather than thinking ill of the dead—
people whose birthdays are spent,
despite the occasional Google banner
tugging at the dusty bones of their feet
and pulling paper hats over their crowns—

rather than thinking ill of anyone,
I wonder what Rilke wore in military school.
Red, yellow, blue or green?
Because the photos are black and white
his buttons, whether brass or silver,

will glow white like a moon that wishes
me good night and then greets me
in the morning, as she did this morning;
as she will greet others when twelve hours
have pulled their way across the oceans.

One of us is a predator

Posted in Poems by the Brother on March 12, 2011 by familialdiscontent

one of us
is a predator
but I can sit
even when
jaws close
on my hand

Writing workshop plus cold and flu pills equals

Posted in Poems by the Brother on March 5, 2011 by familialdiscontent

What then begins to fly is stuck in mud;
the sucking as it tries to break away,
to take a holiday from ropes and locks,
like Christmas peace, discarded wrapping rocks,
the cake and treetop star that frowns around
the room as platitudes dispensed for kids
that cry ‘Unfair!’ with sugar boiled blood,
their wibble wobble jelly venom sharp.
The star that flies in skyward streaks to run,
escape on feathered limb, but always brought
to earth among the fluff in a battered box;
a fate she can’t escape, she can’t live down.