the margins

inside the margins

i got to wake up
outside the margins
where they chose
not to see me
the way I saw
myself

they preferred
not to see me
at all

blue the color of
the blood survived the suburbs
on meatloaf and
microwave popcorn

you spend a quality lifetime
with yourself. you know who you are

latchkey
circles the neck

yet they suggest or imagine you
fit into an image they fashioned

i don’t play inside the margins
i am no cookie to be cut

sitcom ina tv
cherry ina bonbon
chardonnay
ina box
ina fridge

to be seen is
my right
if not
the law

urban dictionary. constitution

made an urban dictionary out of our constitution

When you came into my life I was shooting pool, and neither were the other kids in school. There was a break and all the balls started rolling, and who could be prepared for a world administered by twitter feed, half-mad on fast food fry-batter, running down an uphill battle? The recycled oil had turned, the battery gone dead. A postmortem analysis found the conditions out of which the nightmare came to steam. All the way in the back of the tired rolodex of eighties-punctured index cards, we located the moment butter got sideswiped by Country Crock. Even the name gave it away! Yet we accepted the substitute and without any hardcore/softcore vetting. Consider us fucked right there.

Dare I look into these projects you are slumming? Somewhere in each one a person pushed out front, coat-tails blowing up egos in need of personality. Altruism was suddenly a four-letter word like media and Muslim. You made an urban dictionary out of the constitution. Wannabe celebrities still slinging their ghostwritten books, to get a stab at some easy cash before the crap inside all the margins falls out of consciousness and to your cutting room floor… now ankle deep in film, archaic, in a dark corner of ill-literatures.

Meanwhile…

Here we find a thorough & recent review of my work:
GIBNEYS BLOG: BOOK REVIEW