July 1, 2018

Sometimes Overt, Often Stealth

Let me tell you about my friend,
Fuck You. He's been with me for
so long now that I don't remember
when we met, but he's always been
on the roster, always been in my
ear, always been a presence,
sometimes overt, often stealth.

Let me tell you about my friend,
Fuck You and how I've missed the
way he stiffens my spine and
hardens my resolve, the way he
transforms frustration into fuel
like some kind of deep-set
photosynthesis that only exists
when the circumstances demand.

Let me tell you about my friend,
Fuck You and how he seems to
come around when I need him
the most, when I begin to buckle
and sway from the weight of all
that's come before and what
appears to lie ahead, a tightrope
walk in blizzard conditions.

And let me thank my friend,
Fuck You. Let me thank him for
the steadfastness and the rough
required shoves, for the no-shit
stares and the late night talkdowns,
for getting me this far and for
waiting in the shadows until he's
needed once again.

by Eric Evans

in volume 6 issue 1

Somewhere Between Angel and Gargoyle

i just love that image
of all those old timers
just sitting at the wishing
well in the middle of the mall
with all those glistening coins
thrown in the fountain by romantics
and delinquents sincerely hoping
and wishing for a better existence
and they got that look on their face
with eyes glazed over like please
just leave me the fuck alone and
seen it all and just grateful that
their wives are just giving them
a couple moments shopping
with no crises or psycho
dramas and whether
someone picks them
up or not all good
and like that feeling
of feeling stranded
and no one to be
responsible for
and irrelevant
and doesn't matter
and all the better
a certain kind
of postmodern
wasted and wired
version of buddha

by Joseph Reich
in volume 6 issue 1

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