My Fowl Mouth

My fascination 

with ducks

has seemingly

skyrocketed

since autocorrect

entered my life

30 Apr 2020

Redundant Circles Never Leading Anywhere

The slight hint

of green is enough

to excite my feet

rapidly into motion,

wind rippling 

through my fur

For a moment,

I feel alive

The thrill dies

in a few short strides

as I’m met with bars,

a gate, a fence, a wall

A trap I can’t seem 

to escape

Déjà vu,

every damn day

My life defined,

enclosed,

by the men who 

built my narrow bars,

selling tickets 

so children could see

the sad remnants 

of my caged life

I pace in desperation,

my life reduced

to redundant circles

never leading me anywhere

Despite the illusion

of comfort,

my body knows

that trapped

is not where I belong

Mar 2020

This was written as part of The Zoo, which is a collaboration (in writing and performance) with Zach, combining music and poetry. You can view the full piece here:

The Zoo - Zach and Keith 

Hinges

They wanted me 

to stay inside their box,

to color 

inside their lines

They wanted me 

to stay inside their box,

easily judged,

easily classified

They wanted me 

to stay inside their box,

afraid, 

if my box moved,

their box would

topple from its

comfortable perch

They wanted me 

to stay inside their box,

but their box

was narrow

and empty

They wanted me 

to stay inside their box,

but there were

hinges on the lid

26 Apr 2020

Watch the one minute animated video

Deejaying to an Audience of One

Once, 

we controlled

the airwaves

Well,

within a tiny radius,

for a couple hours

each week

Blasting

Weird Al

and the Beatles

and whoever else

we pulled from

our backpacks

each Wednesday night

Now,

headphones

keep me company

on long walks alone

And

I still control

the music

But

the audience,

as statistically 

insignificant

as it was,

has dwindled

to one

New

discoveries and

underappreciated gems

fill my ears

Leaving

me longing

for the days,

sitting beside

one of my

best friends,

microphones

in front of us,

laughing and jamming,

the decision

of which track

would next hit 

the airwaves 

sitting snugly

in our hands

24 Apr 2020

Memories That Dance in the Rain

Childhood memories

tiptoe, twist,

tango, and tap dance

their way among

the drops

Drops of rain

onto the photographs

of our minds,

embrittled from

our oily hands,

whose loving touch

has left them

bent and warped  

Drops

inadvertently

embellished

with family lore

and yellowed

from the endless

procession of 

sunlight

until we can 

no longer tell

which moisture

is the true

memory of sweat

and which drops

were simply

the result

of the rain

24 Apr 2020

Watch it performed, with Theresa Göttl Brightman

God is a File-Folder-Manila Horse’s Head

Her chair creeks

as she reaches

for the last folder

in the last drawer

of her file cabinet

She knows

(of course she knows,

she knows everything),

that humans should

alphabetically be filed 

between howler monkeys

and hummingbirds

But she never wants

to stumble accidentally 

over her greatest 

disappointment

She sighs, pen in hand,

and opens the file

to add the latest update

Once again,

they killed recklessly,

she writes,

wishing now

she had used 

a spreadsheet,

(marking x’s would 

have been easier)

They slaughtered endlessly,

she continues 

Forests fell to their 

unquenched, greedy hands

They stood proudly

atop their pile of victims,

thanking her

(or their shallow

understanding of her)

for their overstuffed bellies

and their accumulating piles

of stacked green paper,

as if that were somehow

part of her plan 

God, 

if she does exist,

is crying for her children

who thoughtlessly 

cut off the head

of the horse and

then pray in hope

that he will run again

20 Apr 2020

Melancholy is an Indigo Plant

The calendar

claimed Spring,

the time

of beautiful

blossoms

But behind 

my mask,

I felt not

the warmth 

of the sunshine,

only cold,

lonely isolation

Fear 

sprinkled

like rain

upon my 

branches

I held 

my breath,

defying osmosis,

unwilling to let 

the water droplets

enter my roots

One day

I hoped

my blossoms

would return

One day

I hoped

to breathe

again

16 Apr 2020

Dread is a Tangerine Lunchbox

Ensnared by

his glaring menace,

an awkward silence 

fell upon the lunchroom

I cowered internally

over my tangerine 

lunchbox,

selfishly hoping

it was not my turn

to be today’s target

13 Apr 2020

Monsters of the Ditch

Monsters filled 

the ditch

as I walked 

hesitantly,

mournfully,

along its edge

Original and Ultra,

Java Monster,

Mega Monster

Side by side with 

Copenhagen snuff,

Orange Julius,

diet Dr. Thunder,

and a seemingly

endless supply

of undiscernible 

plastic remnants

Rolling Rock

that rolled 

out your window

Countless Bud Lights,

now lighter,

after you took

what you wanted

and discarded the rest

Your empty pack 

of Marlboros

ensure you first

polluted the air

before turning 

your disdain 

to the soil

Dasani and 

Aquafina,

you desired 

the water 

to be purified

only inside 

your own bottle,

your own bubble,

and fuck the rest

Your trash can,

my street

My glove-covered hands

scoop your indifference,

your entitlement,

into my trash bag,

a bag you filled 

before I managed 

to reach the 

first stop sign

Even if you 

can’t be bothered

to help save 

the world,

it would be nice

if you didn’t work 

so damn hard 

trying to 

destroy it

12 Apr 2020

Love is a Smoker’s Dingy Yellow Lamp

I stared 

in silence,

wondering 

how all the 

dust and grime

gathered

unwanted

on top of 

something

that was once

so fresh 

and new

The remnants

of excitement

now dimmed

beneath

years of 

toil and 

disappointments

and I had 

no idea

how to 

even begin

to remove

the stains

10 Apr 2020

Euphoria is a Jolly Rancher Green Clown

Smiles lined the 

faces of my friends

But his skin

was the color 

of the sticky green

jolly rancher

I found weeks later

under my bed

His nose the color

of the blood 

I imagined dripping 

from my veins

His laughter

would pierce

my nightmares

for years to come

One kid’s euphoria

is another kid’s

creepy-ass clown

9 Apr 2020

A Hangover is a Beige Dictionary

The disagreeable aftereffects

were an inconvenience 

he had learned to tolerate

The irritation 

of his abdomen,

The sporadic

anguish inside 

his cranium

Lethargic mornings,

a tolerable consequence

of the drunkenness

that disguised 

the harsher pain 

that filled his nights

9 Apr 2020

Wonder is a Sage Green Crocus

“Why?”

I asked 

for the twenty-ninth time,

though I wasn’t 

the one keeping count

“That one,” I said,

my finger 

pointing out the obvious

“Why does it stay green?”

“It is young and still growing,”

she replied 

with more patience

than I might muster

in her place

“Like me,” 

I exclaimed

“Yes, dear. Like you.”

“But, mom, 

what if it never 

turns purple,

what if it is always 

different than the rest?”

“Then it will still be beautiful

just the way it is.”

“Like me?”

I asked hesitantly,

hopefully

“Just like you,”

she smiled,

awaiting my 

next question

4 Apr 2020

Truth is a Cobalt Blue Vase

As long as 

I could remember,

she had loved flowers

In her gardens,

on her table

She could no longer 

work the land, 

it was struggle enough

to care for herself

these days

Her blue vase,

the former centerpiece 

of her stunning

dining room table,

now sat on a small 

bedside stand

to brighten 

the confines

of the only room 

she could still 

call her own

With each visit,

she would tell me 

the names of the 

beautiful occupants:

ox-eye sunflowers,

wild bergamot,

rough blazing stars

With curiosity,

my mind wondered

which flowers 

I’d see blooming today

when I stepped 

inside Grandma’s room

The emptiness of the vase

told me everything

before the nursing home staff

could say a word

3 Apr 2020

Obstacle is a Canary Yellow Globe

That globe

That goddamn globe

Canary yellow

like the world was sick

and the water polluted

with something foul

She dragged it everywhere,

such a strange object

for my little sister’s affection

Snuggling it 

like a teddy bear

as she traveled

from room to room

But her attention 

waned easily,

she was a child after all,

and the globe,

that goddamn globe,

seemed to always

find my toes

as I stumbled down 

the dark hallway

to my bedroom

It wasn’t until years later

that I came to realize

how fitting the color was

3 Apr 2020

Oval Office Party

Hate grabs his buddies

(he’s perpetually popular)

Blame sits 

like a parrot

upon his shoulder,

eager to squawk

Boastful and Lies,

conjoined at the hip,

whisper in his ear,

while Greed salivates

in anticipation

Fearmongering 

puffs his chest

in a futile effort

to block Confusion

from sight

Ineptitude has renamed 

himself Genius

No, Hate is never alone

3 Apr 2020

Watch it performed

This piece was written from this writing prompt: