Poems I found in my truck:

Poems I found in my truck:

I
Cannot
Recall things
Because my mind
Is not a safe place
For memories, or for
The names of men who worked at Primax five years ago.

Fibonacci

Walls, screws, lines, ten windows, a roof, wood, hay & stubble, seats and a steering wheel, fasteners, foam, a fire hydrant, a fence, a sidewalk, dead grass, a puddle of muddy water, a mound, a pit, a man, cracked chunks of concrete, windows, walls, screws, fasteners, and nails.

Biotron

It was so sleek and looked so good that I could never fully play with it the way it deserved, so I stared, like it was my mountain of marble. My brother got a stereo.

Christmas Tree

White globes of silk,
A string of lights,
Glass bulbs from a tissue filled box,
A package of tinsel,
An Angel with tiny red dots for eyes and a mouth.
It was better than a house full of feasting with strife.
I turned to Mom and said,
“Joey’s got nobody if I leave.”
I should have said that,
Twenty Christmas trees ago.

Moose

I remember him because he sold my brother a bag of shake
Which we smoked until our heads felt like they were in a vice
And he was large, like a moose, with the testosterone of ten.
Now he’s a butcher making scale, and brings cuts home to his
Mother, who’s the same size, and they’re both small.

Bill the Ferrier

He told us this story, looking out over our heads at God's face. “My wife died, but I have three sons, and I still love her, and I love her more each day.” His eyes sparkled as he went back to his rasping. He offered us a Coors from his cooler, and they’d rolled around so much in there that the “Coors” was rubbed off, and they looked like simple silver cans. His sons despised horseshoeing. They were tough, jowly, occidental featured kids with blonde heads.