I asked my wife before bed last night
if I should use my razor blade until I cut myself?
Why would you want to do that, she inquires,
So I know I’ve gotten maximum value out of it, I reply.
She tells me to go to sleep,
Probably wondering who she married,
After 25 years she knows how crazy I am
That value is paramount
Even with a little pain to prove it
Value is everything to me
It’s something that is fleeting fast
in our disposable world.
I’m going for it
What’s another scar on my humble face
Value and cheapness are two different entities
This is a conceptual thing
Some might say art
I say, “let it rip”….

They called me
Bent Key
as a child
as if this were
some kind of insult

Little did they
know how I could
open new doors.

The man next door
has a draconian law
anyone entering must take off his shoes, on his hanger on the outer
room is well hung a retinue of shoes
black, white, brown and yellow.

I’m still waiting
for a white pristine
invitation that never
arrives

I’m still looking
for a dress that’s
long been shredded

I’m still tapping
my foot waiting
for the music
but the orchestra
is out on a bender.

I tie a string
around my finger
I tie a rope
around my arm

big and small
reminders.

This is a sad rite
for the person I used
to be, the words
I used to worry over,

This is a beautiful
release so that my
fingers can stretch
to explore a new
earth and identity.

I carry a gift
they do not want.
I offer it and they scoff.
I write
while they look on
with rolling eyes
faces full of disdain.