Tag Archives: birthday

Poem for Brian McGackin

A short, simple burst of verse that appears
at first mundane, a slacker’s sonnet, a simple
twist of words that somehow still obscure these
patterns, little games of surreptitious puns and
plays on phrase that only the most astute readers
will pick up on, pick upon, between the subtle
allusions to Seal, or Harry Potter, or, inevitably,
soccer, this false banality that hides a sense
of suffering, of Guinness, of meaning that is
all too often missed though it’s clever when it
lets you in and waives its endless turnpike fees,
a strong syllabic voice that set this website
into motion, keeps my sentences on track, even
when he was kind of a dick about it; but in the end
the purpose or intention is made clear, often
through a seemingly non-sequitur saying that sneaks
in at the climax, the culmination of a short
linguistic journey that illuminates in retrospect
the bullshit lines before it: Happy Birthday.

To My Father As He Reaches Middle Age

Great men of this life have lived
To be twice as old as you.
They find reason to live
Like a man finds money
In his pocket for lunch.
They find joy in longevity
Like lungs taste fresh winter winds.
They find changes in life
Like every other man,
No more a surprise
Than a sunrise.
For all their years
They reach,
They teach,
They live each.

Quarter Century Crisis on Infinite Earths

Today is my 25th birthday. After losing $160 at the casino this weekend, I am presently suffering from a 101 degree fever. Furthermore, there is water leaking into my apartment from the unit upstairs.

I ain’t writin’ shit today.

24

Two dozen
years, like eggs,
embryonic, unfertilized,
unlife cracked and splashed
over sizzle-pop olive
oil heating hash the morning after.
One broken piece,
small, brown, jagged edge,
shaped like Connecticut, drifts
into a cloudy white sea
turning tundra when it’s ready
to consume. Delicious.
Shattered out utero armor.
Not enough to notice, or cut
you from the inside, but enough
that you might hear a faint crunch
inside your head, reverberating
amidst the pillars of teeth, feel
them grind into shell and devour.

Equation for the poultry
life that is, sacrificed for
nourishment
unTwo
another.another
young unlife, fried,
over easy, golden insides
hardened, yolk spilling
out across the pan:

shells couldn’t carry
the weight of this walk.