"President Trump"

President Trump

I was trying to think of a nickname for the new president. The first thing that came to mind was President Shit, or President Shit for Brains, and they're not inaccurate, ‎but somehow they lack the proper punch, the proper oompf. President Diarrhea is nice, but it's too many syllables, and besides, the diarrhea that he invokes is way more disgusting than the normal diarrhea you might picture in your mind if you were just sitting around picturing diarrhea in your mind.

I'm thinking about some really loose, really diseased shit, with chunks of the most horrific, horrible bits of shit in it: corn, obviously, and pepper, and bits of black and green shit you don't know what the fuck it is, and really, I would also want to conjure up an image of sticking a funnel down his throat and making him eat it. And there's really no word for that. And certainly no one-syllable word.

Jon Oliver likes to call him Drumpf, and that gets close to it. But I'm beginning to become convinced that there is no word. I think instead, the solution for me-although I'm open to other solutions here- is to just call him President Trump, with the caveat that the word "trump" should, from this moment until the end of time, evoke the image of forcing the most disgusting diarrhea-like person imaginable to eat the most disgusting diarrhea that can possibly be conceived of. For now, at least, that works for me.

December 3, 2016

"Not a Happy Day"

Not a Happy Day

It was by no means a happy day. Not a single happy thing had happened There had been some things that he had hoped would happen that would have been happy, and those things had not happened. And some sad things, that he had hoped would not happen, had happened.

And yet he found himself smiling. He found that he was happy. He found that the pilot light inside of himself was on, was glowing brightly and flickering happily, and seemed to be packed with the promise of a possible conflagration of joy, given the proper catalyst. That is to say, he had hope.

He smiled at the clouds over the Hudson on his way to work. As he rode along the bike path, he sang the saddest songs he could think of and they made him so happy.

Over the course of the day, he found himself continually looking at his phone, in hopes of a happy call, a happy text, a happy message, a happy anything, but nothing came. He continued to smile and remain hopeful--not in a desperate or pathetic way, or in a false way, but in a real and true way. He didn't know empirically that everything was going to be fine. In fact, he knew empirically that it wouldn't be fine--there would be, over the course of the rest of his life, sickness and death and heartache and despair and all sorts of other sad things. But he knew, somehow that he would be fine. And he knew that there would be happy things in his future as well.

The day went on, with nothing particularly good or happy happening. He left the office and went on about the things he needed to do, and they all got done, which gave him some small comfort. He went home, happy that nothing truly bad had happened, and sad that nothing all that happy had.

He had looked forward to this day, and as it died, he found himself lying in bed, sad and happy, and looking forward to tomorrow.

November 29, 2016

"Just Beyond the Staten Island Ferry"

Just Beyond the Staten Island Ferry

Just beyond the Staten Island Ferry
I saw a high school student, elated
Over his successful hand-feeding
Of a peanut to a squirrel.

The nigger took the peanut
right out of my hand!
He shouted to his friends,
As the squirrel darted back
Behind the brush.

November 3, 2016

"The Suit"

The Suit

I
The Suit
Hangs on a hanger
That hangs on a peg
On a wall
In my office:

An inspiration
An indictment
A goal
A dream that mocks me.

II
I tried on the suit yesterday
The one I haven't fit into in over a year
I didn't think it would fit, and it didn't
And I have a longer way to go than I thought.

III
I've been asked,
Why do you have the suit?
Do you have to wear suits at work?

And I say,
No, I don't have to wear suits
But the jackets cover up my body
I have a lot of body shame
The suit helps mitigate the body shame
When I can fit into it, that is.

IV
I have been accused of having
Distorted body image
But the fact is,
I have a small frame
Extra weight looks worse on me
Than it does on other people.

My body image is realistic, I think:
Right now, I am a fat piece of shit
And once I can wear the suit again
I won't be.

V
About a month ago
I had some shirts I couldn't button
I can button them now
But I won't really be ok
Until I can wear the suit.

VI
It is possible,
If I continue at my current rate of weight loss,
That at some point
The suit will be too big for me
I would rather that didn't happen
If I could maintain a weight
Such that I could keep wearing the suit comfortably
I believe I would be satisfied
I don't want to be a skeleton
I just want to not feel the way I feel anymore.

They say happiness comes from within
But they only say that to make me feel better
It doesn't make me feel better
Because it is a lie.

VII
I took a picture of the suit today
I will post it on Facebook
And when I can finally fit into the suit again
I will take a picture of me wearing it
And post it on Facebook.

The picture of me wearing the suit
Will probably get a lot of likes
It will probably get more likes
Than this poem will.

November 1, 2016

"Beware of the Nice "

Beware of the Nice

She said, "I'm actually not a nice person. My specialty is in observing and telling it how I see and feel it. "

I said, " I know you're not nice. I think that's why I trust you so much and like you so much."

You, on the other hand, were always very, very, nice.

Too bad I didn't know enough to beware of the nice.

October 28, 2016

"God(s)"

God(s)

To be with all the gods there are and to see them and hear them and feel them everywhere, in everyone and everything,

To sit with the self until the god inside answers whatever it is you might be asking,

To see the angry god in your enemy, and hear the friendly god in your friend's kind words,

To see the love god in the ones you love, and feel the fuck god in whoever you are fucking,

To be with the death god when you kill an insect, or go to a funeral, or eat a hamburger,

To hear the god in the wind, feel the god in the stones and the sand and the water and the earth and the air,

To see the fire god in the fire, hear the music god in song,

To see god in the art, in the artist, in the art lovers looking at the art; to see we are all creators and consumers and destroyers every day,

To feel the god of pain in your breaking heart, and see the god of sadness and compassion in the one who is breaking your heart, to know the god that you are in your broken heart,

To see that the gods do not exist in some supernatural realm, because there's no such thing as the supernatural--gods can only exist in what there actually is, if gods or anything can be said to exist at all,

To look into the eyes of whoever is in front of you, anywhere, anytime, all the time, all the time, and see the god that is there, and know it, and know it, and be with it,

To know that god is everywhere and nowhere, everything and nothing,

To see god, to feel god, to know god, to love god, with all your heart and all your soul and all your mind.

October 25, 2016

"Loss"

 Loss

The only happy thing
About how sad I've been
Is how much weight I've lost
I'm almost thin.

And that truly is a very happy thing
It makes me so happy, I could almost sing
So happy, that if I could only bring
This happiness to you, I would indeed

But only if I could bring it to you
Without the sadness too.

October 23, 2016

(I wrote this in the shower, after a surprisingly non-traumatic look in the mirror.)