It'll Never Fly

Leo Cooper, in a bid to become jet propelled,
was hard at work in his basement workshop.

His nose, as they say, was to the grindstone.

Leo Cooper's anti-gravity boots might as well
have been powered by unicorn dust.

It'll never fly. I told him that.

Leo Cooper took a break, went upstairs,
made Sanka for himself and me.

I took artificial whitener.
Leo Cooper? He takes his Sanka black.

A Poem About Leo and His Uncle.

I don't know if Leo Cooper, the real Leo Cooper, has an Uncle, Ray or otherwise. I assume not. Don't take it personal, we are all Leo Cooper.


Leo Cooper was at his weird Uncle Ray's place,
For the afternoon.

Weird uncle Ray was as old as dust.
As old as lies.
As old as treachery.

Leo Cooper and weird, old Uncle Ray,
Were digging graves,
In the back garden.

"Not so shallow!" barked Uncle Ray.
"Make the walls even!" demanded Uncle Ray.

Leo Cooper dug graves all afternoon.
Not too shallow,
Not deep enough to disguise,
What always would be.

Hands blistered,
Face streaked with mud and sweat,
Leo Cooper sat with weird Uncle Ray,
Watching the summer sunshine fade into the end of the day.

Slowly sipping cold, tall, sweet lemonade,
Each lost in thoughts of their own.

5 Year Plan.

Henry Slade Talbot is coming back one day.
I know this,
I read it in Plain Truth magazine.

Henry Slade Talbot has been down so long,
That he's in a bowl full of cherries.
He's a mess.

And no amount of pain,
Torture,
Bloodletting,
Horrors unspeakable,
Will keep me from getting on the next bus out of town.

I'm on my way to lie,
At the feet of,
Henry Slade Talbot.

The reckoning is nigh.

Veronica.

Here's the story of this weird girl I knew when I was eight years old. Her family joined a cult and moved away. I wonder if she's ever written a poem about me?

In 1976
You and yours
Walked into the blackout.
Blinded.

Veronica called
And someone listened.
They found you
Hiding.
Hidden.
Blinded.
Bitten.

Lunar Eclipse.

Venus Flytrap vs. Bug

The boy and myself made this.

Fuckin' Rat.

Paranoid Love Song #3.

I’m hiding in this cold, dark alleyway,
Digging at the base of my skull with a protractor.
I know it’s in there.
Somewhere.

I was on my way to see you,
When someone began to follow me.
Silent footsteps,
But I knew I was not alone.
I took evasive action.

I’m being watched.
It could be the old woman collecting cans and bottles,
Or the silhouette in that dimly lit apartment.
Or the paperboy,
Or the family next door.

Why couldn’t it have been you?
Staring into my eyes?
Our love, more powerful than this,
Remote controlled listening device.

Why couldn’t it be you?

Paranoid Love Song #2.

I would have called,
But I can’t say my name,
Over the telephone line.

Just when I thought,
Everything was going to be,
Alright.

I saw this story on the news,
And if I can do one thing,
I can read between the lines.

I heard what that,
Foreign correspondent,
Said.

About you.
About me.

I should have called.