necklaces

collaborative poem by vince bauters and josh zoerner

"necklace"

cold shoulders and hungry eyes, i

fit you back in recklessly, but i am

relentless.

i speak when spoken to.

you describe yourself as an animal

with spots on its skin, and i am

less impressed than i was hours ago.

these notions of

pursuit

give white

knuckle fever.

if i were to cleanse myself in

dark water the jaws of my mouth

would remain clenched, held still

i am a colorless moon setting.

fireplace

collaborative piece from vince bauters and josh zoerner

"fireplace"

i was sleeping in trying

to hide. it was

the only time

i was mismanaging

clinging to the sheet and

October light. Michigan rain held in the

screen and no appetite for

apples.

i could sit outside in the fog, watch

swans, but you would tell me to

come inside.

give a steady, white hand to the

child playing man near the river. and bring

us all into the same room

where dim lights reveal a

silent understanding of creating

one's swan song.

kids

"kids"

they see you in fields,

in the rotten leaves.

i watch you sink in.

...

just a little haiku, something full length soon. keep

your eyes

open.

n/a

new poetry "theme" being explored: small towns, their feel, and secrets.

little late to mention that, it seems.

...

i have so much to say, to everyone.

silver plume, colorado

"silver plume, colorado"

a glass on the oak table is filled

with dry whiskey. i move like a ghost

through this house, through these

walls.

i could've loved you.

if we could see ourselves in the blowing

dust, would our cheeks become rosy?

miners clutch shovels and

hammers. we have given so much,

so much blood, we should be kings.

from the doorway,

i heard you whisper

words

into the corners of the room.

i told you, "this will be the year that

kills us all."

bedford, pennsylvania

"bedford, pennsylvania"

the chipping sparrow are stirring; the snow geese

feel the water rise against their feet. Autumn

spends her time running from

December.

townsfolk are keeping the secrets of

their mothers and father. shame, and a

desperate feeling to fall asleep.

grandad's bones keeping creaking. he tells me

we deserve this. i am not worried,

the winter will pass and my hunger will

follow.

alias

"alias"

my mouth is open for all to

walk in and then stumble

right out. were you searching for

clarity?

this is like walking into your closet

finding that the skeletons have

started talking.

the darkness under my eyes

grows. my ship is sinking, i am

buried in the world, in the secrets,

and the earth.

i wake up each day and hear the bones

chattering, "excite me, we don't need connection

at all."