What’s left behind
Is sometimes worse
Than the taking
I’ve gotten over
The ick factor
If flying mamas
Need a dab of
Blood for eggs
Their lives
Short and unfair
Go for it
Bite me
You deserve it
Live as long as u can
The lineage of
Soaks the rays
That’s kinda cool
DNA joining all
Sorts of creatures
In mothership bods
Traveling through
An even larger
Cultural bod(ies)
Hey yeah I know
Diseases are passed
Yes yes I know
It’s a drag
When a lack of
Invites tiny welts
But I’ll itch you
In a distracted way
And shove off
But like I said
It’s a passive act
Of sustaining some
Kind of life
When the bites
We leave behind
Take 1000+ years
To dismantle


I had the passion 
but not the stamina
nor the discipline, 
no one knew how
to discipline me so 
they just let me be,

Let me play along,
let me think I was
somebody, I could
be somebody, even
without the no-how.

Never cared one bit 
when my bow didn’t
match the rest of the 
orchestra, I could get 
their notes right but 
always a little beyond,

sawing my bow across
the strings, cuttin it up
even if I wasn’t valuable
even if I lacked respect
for rules of European
thought and composure.

A crescendo of trying
to be somebody,
a decrescendo of trying 
to belong, I played along
o yes, I play along. 


Related Poems

Disease’s Gifts

For Peggy Munson

That you must accept
what you cannot prevent.  That fear inverts
the meaning of success.  That you can be fearless

when fear is all you have.
That fear is all you have.
That you aren’t alone in loneliness,

there’s a whole world here,
a pregnant, fascinating glimpse,
all stomach and hips,

of the life-creating love
you’re finally sick enough to feel.
That that glimpse can't stop you from melting

into the futures you fear
you will and will not have.
That you have, you still have,

everything you need to live:
night, ice, plums, a lap and a laptop, a name, a parent,
whipped cream, gossip, steaming plates

of life and death. 
That this is the end of the world.
That you will survive it.