A Future Waffle.
You ate waffles on the porch while
I sang you songs in my voice-
cracking like the deli sidewalk
driven over once or twice or
one-hundred thousand times.
I had a dream of us leaving to
be happy somewhere warm …
and it’s me and you and our dog.
I draw it out in a map on a chalk
board, with dotted lines and
arrows. This is the blueprint for
avoiding too-slow, heavy walk.
I’ll tattoo inside the coffee shop
you open. I’ll help clean the soft-
serve machines. I had a dream of
us leaving to be happy in the sun.
She shows me the history of every plant in the yard …
from Arbor Day tree sales at school to
the funeral tulips left from loved ones passed on…
And a movie told me that life isn’t short …
It’s goddamn long.
They tide came for me, to wash over my feet
and my home and my way of living.
It all turned up wet sand, with bubbles from
things still clawing where we can not see.
The state paid my rent
With only one expense:
The ire of my generation.
The house got cleaned down to the sockets…
all was peaceful all was quiet,
and I walked out into the garden.
She put money in my pocket and told
me to bring home purple violets …
And we planted them with our hands
and the ghosts were put to rest.
We were made to sit, tonight, in this backyard …
and you asked what I thought about Dead Alive.
My father watches old movies of his father
taking vacations on a distant horizon line …
and we see the TV glow from inside.
A raccoon with flashlight eyes sneaks around
the side of my house. He is fat with garbage.
Sounds like people I knew once.
You drew a map on cement between bricks
of every time we’d ever shoplifted…
When our life expectancies were forever…
we had everything we thought we needed.
The Standard Part II
We’re playing Shea Stadium
and sweating out Coors…
4 o’clock freakout…
7 o’clock doors.
Drinking tea kissed with Codeine as
a beard mops the floors.
An inhale deep…
A hotel with a bench to warm…
a woman in tears
a lover forlorn.
Her problems just like a song,
at the end of the road is
a bridge to get home.
My dog runs around cables and
has since he was born
when I drove to a breeder
just ahead of that storm…
Selfish is waiting for the day when
Nothing needs saving…
You don’t have the words.
The Standard Pt 1.
Order my poetry book here!: The Human Projector
A woman is crying in front of The Standard
right into her Styrofoam tray of street meat…
She’s yelling and sucking back snot…
hot sauce, white sauce, in a mess piled up.
A minivan advertises the coming of some
prophet with a mustache and a bob cut…
and a megaphone crackles and rings out,
“Save the world by saving yourself.”
This is the subtle buzz of a chainsaw
as it passes through all the wet bark…
My friends are all right on the cusp of
being someone standing or someone cut.
Selfish is me with headphones on
inside of a GNC trying to figure out the
best way to get the THC out of my body.
I get my news from a plaster cast of
endless streams and endless facts
told by names, numbers and thumbnails
that will these things into existence.
A woman is crying in front of The Standard
on the perfect day for a mushroom trip…
my shoulders grow heavy under my neck…
This weighs more than hallucinogenics.
How’s Your Day
The apartment smells like nasal spray
and vitamins and bong water.
One fat girl is double-fisting cereal.
A television makes me remember Steve Irwin
as one of the few who loved his job.
In response to a national tragedy,
She dyes her hair and refreshes a browser
hoping the internet has a good day…
A pregnant woman is laid off at the office…
The cobra will foot the bill and she’ll
pay when she’s able.
Out of the back of my Lean Pocket spills
some cheesy life blood and my
dinner is spoiled.
A child on my block releases a birthday
balloon around ten o’clock …
and we can see it get caught on a street light,
then start to melt …robbed like a jeweler
New book, The Human Projector, on sale on Amazon:
Find my other books here: www.nickorsini.com
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Human Projector, my new book, on sale now!
Hi all- so my new book, The Human Projector, is on sale on Amazon now! It’s only $3 …a collection of the best work on this site (and some new poems and letters)
Thank you so much for all the help and support. Every purchase helps support independent writing and writers …really hope you can all pick it up at the link below:
New Book on Sale Tomorrow!
Hi all! My new book, Human Projector …a collection of the best poems off this site as well as some new work, is available on Amazon tomorrow! It’s only three dollars so it won’t hurt your wallet! Please check it out and support independent writing.
My new website is NickOrsini.com …so you can go there for all my book news and interviews.
I want to thank you all for supporting me and my work since 2008-2009. It means so much to me and I hope to personally thank all of you so soon!
Write to me here!
We watched horror movies on tape
and laughed between the grains …
and July started to feel too small
to be left in August’s wake.
I worked at Jim Dandy’s flipping
sauced pulled pork sandwiches…
and you woke up early to throw the
newspapers stacked on your dash.
You ate like a queen as long as you
knew me ..and your lemony hands,
with all the paper cuts, burning from
all the Wet-Naps I’d sneak in your bag.
That day on the quarry, our goodbye …
and my glasses followed you walking
until you blinked out against the sky…