Long, Hard Rain
Now will there be cat poems??
There have always been
cat poems They were cat poems
before I knew about it All along,
such large and small cats
inside my poetry, behaving AND NOT
EVEN ONCE did they disturb me
They kept to themselves
during the time it took
for me to…
Inventory #459: Cathexis by Mark McCoy
REGARDING FINDING YOURSELF IN THE DIRT
Is there still time to become an actress? Feels like there isn’t, like I’ve already used up the linear time allotted. That can’t be true since voices still press against me like a dance, one small evil approaches me each day, begs to be defeated, I oblige, a man tells me You’re free to go and I step onto an elevator. It drops down toward the earth, then into it, my elevator is digging as we go and I am so free.
I am overwhelmed by anniversaries
suitcases full of jewelry hidden
in closets so they don’t get stolen
or turn into ghosts.
Everything would be easier
if I didn’t need food.
I could survive on painkillers
and hard candies from the bank.
You endure my unhelpful need
In photographs I never look as beautiful and seriousas I do in my own mirror.
Somewhere is a job with the description
does whatever she wants when she wants to
and that’s the jobI want.
I treat my friends like diaries.
Some nights I come home just to see
Happy National Poetry Month! Here’s a new poem.
There’s something timelessabout this place.A ghost preserved by light.It’s a misconceptionthat black holes swalloweverything that surrounds them.Getting pulled inmeans you were alreadytoo close.One day,we can bring the pastto us, dancewith invisible partners.We are at the very edgeof space and time,where the starshave shriveled into somethingeven smallerthan this darkness.