Radio Silence

I’ve tried to write this poem
before, I think. but the title just gets
the Thomas Dolby song of the same name
stuck in my head and then
I’m too distracted to
continue. perhaps this time
I will succeed. so, anyway. I’ve
noticed you’ve gone dark.

(I dreamt about you last night.
I was throwing away a box of
Entenmann’s chocolate donuts
and trying to hide it from you
because it wasn’t something you needed
to be tempted by.)

I don’t know what to say
about this, other than somehow
I always thought you would
always be there – even if we
no longer spoke as often – that
I could still read your mind
from afar. but no longer, as
you’ve stopped broadcasting.
maybe without a platform
in which to preen in person
the whole endeavor
of putting your thoughts down
doesn’t seem worth it. well,
I’m sorry for that.

here’s where I should
try to make some argument
for it being good for you
to continue, but we both know
altruism doesn’t become me.

(not to mention my hypocrisy
vis-a-vis my own highly infrequent
signaling. pot, meet kettle: we’re both

so I’ll just say this:
think of your stalkers,
and kindly throw down
a breadcrumb
now and again
to let us know
your signal isn’t
completely gone.

crimes against humanity

you know
what you did. and you
know how totally unacceptable
it is. if you want
to be in society, that shit
just doesn’t fly, man.
so very very
not cool. I’ve been silent
for too long out of
cowardice but I’m
putting my
foot down. no
more. this
shall not stand.
I will find you
and I will make you
hurt the way
you hurt me.

so whoever left your
goddamn coat
on the floor at the
Sidewalk Open Stage
tangled around a chair
that made me trip
and nearly do
an embarrassing
faceplant in front
of everyone:
fuck you!


I’m childlike. or is that
childish? I don’t even try
very hard to adult. I
pretend to be normal
and fail, over and
over and over and
over again.

today I couldn’t even
amuse myself
for an hour
in a toy store.
where’s my
au pair?

far away, so close

do you understand that
the reason I don’t write
about you that often is
because you’re right here?
I can just tell you flat out
whatever I want to say.
there’s no need to couch
my thoughts in poesy, or
think of some mildly
clever angle. it’s just direct

there are others whom
I have complex constellations
of feelings towards, which
sometimes provides me
with a message to put
into this glass bottle.

but if you recall that poem
I wrote – before we were even
an item – in which I said
that there are only two things
that inspire me: rage and
unrequited love, you’ll know
that you don’t want
to be the subject of my poems,
baby. that would mean
we were breaking up.

things I didn’t say

last night I saw him,
for the first time
in months, and
I did not speak.

I saw his eyes on me
and turned away,
as if I didn’t even
notice. I felt
his thoughts and feelings,
his dark vibes
and creepy, lonely
from across the room.

twice I felt some
subterranean urge
rising inside myself
to talk to him, when
the situation gave rise
to an opportunity
to make a joke
or a comment
that he would uniquely
appreciate, but I stayed
resolute and
held my tongue.
no good could
come of it. we’ve
been down that path
before. plus
I didn’t want to give him
the satisfaction
of being the first
one to acknowledge
the other.

yes, it’s petty. I’m
petty around him.
that’s one of the many
reasons I refuse
to go back to the place
where I care
what he thinks.
I lived there for too long
and hated every
minute of it.

I successfully avoided him
until he left. good riddance
to bad rubbish. proof that
if you wait long enough,
the trash will
take itself out.

the lost hour

at 10:56 p.m. tonight,
my time, you
posted a thing. so far,

but. I happened to notice
that the time stamp says
11:56 pm. are you posting
from the future?
am I secretly
in another time zone?
I did travel, but
I’m pretty sure we’re
still in the same slice
of the pie that is
Eastern Standard

so where
did that hour go?
I’m sure
the answer is something
mundane and annoyingly
prosaic, like the servers
are located
in the middle of the
Atlantic Ocean, or
some developer
fucked up somewhere,
but I like to pretend
that that lost hour
was a magical one.

in my mind,
I dreamed a million
worlds of dreams
in that hour,
and then forgot them
because I went back in
time to the present.

I know. I’m wrong.
but let me have my