so

I posted a poem just now,
then I took it down.

I have a lot of poems
I, for some odd reason,
never post the best ones
(though one day
I'd like to share them).

But this
was neither good
nor bad
nor anything else.

It was talcum powder
or artificial sweetener.
Half an oyster shell
on the hudson's bank,

Or that last grain of rice
sitting in the bowl
longing to serve a purpose
but barely
worth the effort.

So I took it down
because it failed
to do itself justice.

I know
it may be cruel.

I know
I've abandoned my child.

So I'll have a gin drink
or some peppermint tea
let life
do what it does
and see what other demons
I may conjure
as repentance.

-BH

BH and his Atomic Mind

They found me at the picnic table
protecting my irises with aviator sun glasses
protecting my shoulders
with spiritual burden
chewing steadily on falafel
scribbling some sense
on my wooden tablet

I mean
it's not like i
was trying to hide

I was in the sunlight
skin taking a strange tone
chocolate cherry

I digress

My jeans
took the sun's light
and relayed it's heated message
to my thighs
while my chest
under my t-shirt
got the sun directly

I guess i wasn't feeling
conservative
that day

That day
they found me
in a state of contemplation
so intense
that my brain waves
seemed to radiate
exciting my hair
which spiraled
in spasms of glee

Tiny hairs
stretching from my chin
tiny bags
hanging like
"do not disturb" signs
from my eyelids

And here I was
waiting to be found
as all things are
and I was
and so shall you be

BH.

The Flies

I sleep with the flies
like a corpse
Death shrouded in the scent
that attracts life.
They wait patiently
for when I bleed to death
they will use my gift
to sustain their hunger.
To them it'll be just a snack
but I bet I'll taste good
filling like a whole meal.
A bloody steak
and a bottle of Dutch Gin.
mmm

B.H.