Foggy, Windy, 50 Degrees

This three day, holiday weekend is supposed to be the unofficial beginning of summer, but it's foggy, windy and 50 degrees.

If this is summer, summer sucks.

I seem to have some memories of summer's past, when I was a kid, and I don't remember foggy, windy and 50 degrees.

Pretty sure I wouldn't have memories of swimming, canoeing, water balloon fights, endless games of basketball, soccer, touch football, etc. if it had been foggy, windy and 50 degrees.

What gives?

Who's the friggin' moron who ordered up this crap, anyway?

Oh Man.

So, I'm at the gym and I'm on the elliptical machine and they have these little TVs and I flip the thing on, start channel surfing. My choices are: a trio of 24-hour news channels, Martha Stewart, two ESPNs, several soap operas and Family Feud.

Ugh.

So I put the TV on channel 8, not really knowing what it is because they're at commercial.

Well, the show starts and I get Ty Pennington and his annoying crew on their way to do an Extreme Home Makeover. Inside of about two minutes, I'm all teary eyed because the family they are helping has a daughter who, at age 11 days (or some similarly insane age) had to have a heart transplant. Ok, I'm a sucker for these poor babies facing unreasonable challenges and coming through it.

What's my point? That ABC works really hard to pull your heart strings? That I was nearly crying on the elliptical machine in the middle of the YMCA on a Friday afternoon? That god is a bastard for putting a kid through all this?

I have no idea.

Five, Yes, Five.

I've had five people tell me they cried while reading the poetry in The Bones of Saints Under Glass.

Two said they cried while reading "The Other One Stopped." Two cried while reading "Swimming in Beauty and Light." And one cried while reading "Robots and Rivers."

Do you have any idea how good that feels? What that means to a poet?

I want to thank all five of them, truly, from the bottom of my thanking apparatus. I also want to thank everyone else who has bought a copy of Bones.

Thank you.
Thank you.
Thank you.
Thank you.
Thank you.

Another Good Day For A Poem

I Met a Girl Named Deluxe

she isn’t a stripper
though you might
not know it
just by reading
the curvesof her cover

she’s a stenographer
a word
I had to look
up, thinking
they were all
extinct

and a scientologist
which makes
me wonder
what it would take
to impress
her

she wears boots
that are perhaps
too high
for her profession
but all the judges
give her a pass

they are men

and her skin
such a mystifying
tone, her breasts
defy
both gravity
and logic

I met Deluxe
on a Friday

the 13th

she is the black
pussycat
crossing my path
to disastrous
result

Seriously.

How can  a movie called "X-Men Origins: Wolverine" be such a flaming pile of poo?

Looking Forward

How many people can honestly say they are living in the now? How many "living in the now" moments do you have in a day? In a week?

Most of the time we're busy looking forward to something. The next vacation...the end of the work day...that first beer of the night...the new DVD coming from Netflix. Something.

Or we're thinking about something that has already passed. Last night's great sex...a killer concert...the last vacation...that thing you said to your son that you really wished you hadn't said and would take back if you had a chance to relive that moment.

Hopes. Regrets. Joys. Heartbreaks.

Does the present even exist?

Have You?

Have you visited me on Facebook? Are we Facebook friends?

Hmm...ok.

Have you bought my book?

Why not? It's really easy. You just click on the amazing picture to your left. Yes, the one of the bird skeleton. That's the actual cover of my book, artwork by Hosho McCreesh (who is an amazing poet in his right).

You haven't bought it yet, have you?

Seriously? Why not?

I want you to send me an email and explain to me why you haven't bought my book yet.

nibblepoems@gmail.com

Go on. Go.

Go.