LET DOWN PRAYER / I HAVEN'T WRITTEN A DRUNK POEM IN A WHILE

AND MAYBE THIS IS OUT OF A SENSE OF OBLIGATION
BUT I AM NOT OUT OF A SENSE OF OBLIGATION
AND YOU ARE NOT OUT OF A SENSE OF OBLIGATION
SO WHAT IS THIS?

IF WE WADDLED AROUND THE LAMPPOSTS LIKE A COUPLE OF DUCKS
WE COULD KNOW WHAT: THE WHATNOT OF THE MATTER
QUACK UNTIL THE SUNRISE LIKE THE COUPLE OF DUCKS
THAT WE ARE. FALL SHALLOW IN THE POND OF CARS AND LIGHT

I HAVE A JAR OF DEAD MOTHS. WOULD YOU LIKE TO HOLD IT?
I WOULD LIKE YOU TO HOLD THIS JAR OF DEAD MOTHS
THAT I HAVE SAVED UP FOR A MOMENT LIKE THIS
A MOMENT WHERE I COULD SHOW YOU DEEPEST RAINFLOOD

DOES YOUR TALK FEEL LIKE A RAINBOW COMING OUT OF YOUR MOUTH
BECAUSE THAT'S HOW MY EARS RECEIVE SOMETIMES
OTHER TIMES IT SOUNDS LIKE A PRAIRIE ON FIRE
CRACKLING WITHOUT PERMISSION INSIDE THE EVER

WHO IS THIS "YOU" THAT I ADDRESS IN ALL MY POEMS?
WHO ARE YOU? CAN I SLEEP INSIDE YOUR YOU?
AND WHEN A BABY STANDS UP NEW IS THAT REBELLION?
IS ALL OF THIS LIFE AN ACT OF REBELLION?

I MISS MOWING THE LAWN. I MISS SLAM-DUNKING
ON A SEVEN FOOT GOAL. I AM GOING TO CONJURE THE "YOU"
AND HOPE THAT YOU WILL LEAD ME THROUGH THIS POEM
WILL YOU BE MY VIRGIL, MY GUIDE?

SEE THAT WAS A REFERENCE TO DANTE. ARE YOU IMPRESSED?
I AM NOT. OK, BUT NOT. OK. GOODNIGHT. JK
I HAVE NOT REACHED THE END OF THIS POEM
ARE YOU STILL THERE? ARE YOU STILL WITHOUT SIN? NO?

I JUST PUT MY PALM ON THE TOP OF MY HEAD
AND I RUBBED THE SPOT THAT WOULD BE BALD
IF I HAD DECIDED TO BECOME A MONK
WHICH IS SOMETHING I WOULD NEVER DO

GOD IS NOT ALIVE INSIDE OF ME
GOD MAY BE ALIVE INSIDE OF YOU
I ONLY FEEL THE WORTH OF MY OWN WORTH
LIKE A DRUNKEN CAB DRIVER ON NEW YEAR'S EVE

LIKE A SPLAYED OUT HAND WITH THE KNIFE THRUSTS BETWEEN
I HAVE SEEN THE HAVOC WREAKED BY THE OTHER HAND
I KNOW THE HEART OF DARKNESS. I HAVE SEEN IT
WHICH IS ANOTHER LITERARY REFERENCE. RACK ME ANOTHER POINT

I CAN FEEL THE RAIN IN MY BONES
IT HAS THE TOUCH OF A DOWNY SHOT
I HAVE LICKED THE SAP FROM YOUR EYE
AND HAVE BEEN SUSTAINED BY YOUR SWEET

AND IF YOU WANT NOTHING FROM ME
THEN KNOW I AM FULLED FULLY BY "YOU"
THE "YOU X ME" SOLUTION IS YET UNSOLVED
OK. I AM LEAVING NOW, BUT I AM NOT

I CONTINUE. I FEEL THE ITCH UNDER THE SKIN
LIKE SWELL. LIKE A GODDAMN FOREST FIRE
FUELED BY BABY RABBITS AND DEAD MOTHS
I AM UNSTUNG IN THE COLONY WASPS

PLEASE LET ME REMAIN FOREVER UNSUSSED UNTO ME
LET ME COMMIT FLAGRANT FOULS AND BE EJECTED FROM THE GAME
I WOULD FRAME ALL THE RED CARDS AS A REMINDER
IF THAT WOULD COULD ME IN THE KNOWING OF YOU

BLEEDING CARCASS IN THE MOUTH OF THE VULTURE
THE SPIRIT OF UNKNOWN FLOWING RAMPANT LIKE PAINT
OFF THE BRUSH OF YOUR TONGUE. THE LICK OF YOUR LOVE
LIKE SO MUCH ALREADY DONE DIRT AND THE NOW...

THE NOW JUST KEEPS LICKING THE WHEN LIKE A BABY HYENA
I AM AN OBSTACLE TO MYSELF. IT IS LIKE IVAN ILYICH A LITTLE
WHICH IS ANOTHER LITERARY REFERENCE, AND I WILL KEEP MOVING
THROUGH THE REFERENCES AND THE NOT, BUT OK, WHATEVER

MY BED SMELLS LIKE PAINT AND THE HALLWAY IS A NUMB EXHIBITION
OF THE CELL THROUGH A VEIN THAT HAS NOT SEEN DISEASE
THAT HAS NOT EXPRESSED SORROW THROUGH RUPTURE
A RUPTURE LIKE A FLOCK OF WASPS OUT OF A DIRT SHELL

MY MIDWESTERN DIALOGUE WITH MYSELF SAYS LIE DOWN IN THE DITCH
LET THE FIELDS WRAP YOUR BODY ENRAPTURE YOUR MEMORIES
LET THE HEARTACHE OF VISION BE SWALLOWED BY THE COLD, COLD STALE
BUT MY FOREHEAD KEEPS PUSHING OUT LIKE A LOVER

AND THERE IS A NOSE UNDERNEATH THE LOVER
NOT A KEEN NOSE, NOT A BLOODHOUND NOSE
BUT A NOSE THAT IS ABOVE A MOUTH
WHICH IS A CONDUIT FOR THE SPITTLE I SPEAK THE MOST

UNLAP THIS BEER. DEFOREST THIS MUDDLE I THINK
BBQ THE FOREST OF EDEN AS VEGETABLES TO TOP ON BURGERS
AND BRATS. AND MORESO, I AM NOT A VOICE OF THIS VOICE
I AM A VOICE "YOU," YOU "YOU," WHOEVER "YOU" ARE

LET MY TONGUE LICK YOUR INNERMOST
LESS ROMANTICALLY, LET MY TYPE WORDS THAT DON'T FAIL
LET ME PUT FORTH MY BEST "FOOT," WHICH IS A REFERENCE TO PROSODY, GO ME.
LET MY LITTLE HEART SING LIKE LARYNGITIS AT CHRISTMAS

LET UNDO ME WHAT UNDO ME
AND SO FORTH, AND LET THIS POEM NOT FAIL
AS SO MANY POEMS HAVE FAILED

I LOVE YOU, I MEAN, I'M SORRY

WHAT DID I MEAN BY "YOUR DRESS, YOUR BLACK DRESS, YOUR FACE, KNIFE ME."
AND SOMETIMES, THE BLACKENING OF YOU AGAINST THE DAY WOULD DRINK ME
UNDER THE TABLE AND WARN ME WITH A GLANCE. BUT THESE DAYS, THESE FUCKING
DAYS, WILL KEEP ME AND KEEP ME.

AND I WILL KEEP THIS FACEBOOK GIFT FOREVER
THIS IMAGE OF A FOAM GLOVE. THIS WILL REMIND ME OF THE FALSE IDENTITIES
THAT YOU AND I AND EVERYONE FUCKS INTO THE SAND.

AND RIGHT NOW I AM SHAKING AND I KEEP THINKING THAT WE ARE ONLY
DIRT MOVING IN VAGUELY INTERESTING WAYS.