I Was INSPIRED By You, Man.
But You Aren’t The Same,
And Certainly Not Who I
Thought You Were, And
Probably Never Were, Champ.
Probably Not.
-Gray Squirrel
10-30-2025
You don’t owe me anything.
That’s the difference now.
You're not asking.
I'm not hinting for less.
No one is dressing it up
as metaphor.
But I did leave something
where you’d see it.
Not a trap—
more like a record that could be
interpreted as invitation.
Of what?
Of how long the echo held
after your part went missing.
That’s all.
I won’t chase it.
I won’t rephrase.
But if something in you
tightened—
if you paused longer
than the line deserved—
then you already know
it was yours.
And you already know
I knew you’d look.
2 eggs, 1 cup flour, a quarter stick of butter, a table spoon of olive oil, back for 30 minutes
Rats probably live in Joe’s man cave
I never clean it; I am not a slave
I bet they have parties after midnight
Scooping up all his debris, which is out of sight.
Under his recliners are crackers and cheese.
Peanut butter, potato chips, and dust that would make me sneeze.
I imagine the rodents love being down there all cozy and tight.
Luckily, his mancave is super dark when we turn off the light.
If I could fly high as a butterfly,
I might come down by-and-by.
At some point you have to see
that it is probably just me
to be sensitive to sayins' is just to be
so whatever people say to you
sometimes you have to say back: it's probably just me.
A cacophonic silence,
A mere blanch of a catastrophic faliure,
A maroon in a sickening mirage,
'tis a shade one more,
As a ray one less,
Fairing smiles adiue,
Requiem of a chastised face,
Lay a bed,
O'er wond'rous, to waste.
Where'n freshen lie fast in his daze,
Merry may go his hour,
Time shroud.
However vivid,
a weary slumber ,
Is but man's sorry tire,
Weeping sore,
Once dreaded in languishment,
Once cowered behind the stars.
Not an eye unopened,
Nor a God that sleeps.
I had not seen my former neighbor Mindy for a long time.
Out of politeness I asked about her son, who never had a chance.
She had him on anxiety meds at the age of three,
Always taking him from doctor to doctor, to prove something was wrong.
She complained constantly about how much work he was for her.
How much screaming he did, his diagnoses, and his medications.
I have not seen him for three years since I kicked him out, she told me.
He was getting scary. He is on fentanyl now.
On fentanyl at age twenty-two.
Sadly this drug is twenty to forty times more addictive than heroine.
Becoming his mother was her decision, but I never felt she took care of him.
She was always “thinking of herself” – how much his behaviors inconvenienced her.
How much work he was.
She is now talking about his labor, and how horrible it had been.
Mothers of six children rarely talk about labor;
but Mindy is dwelling on that now.
I am thankful she only had the one child.
Fingertips click a
desperate breakbeat
as eyes glaze over
in blue light baptism
please overwhelm me
Binary jungle,
you glowing cesspit
through the clipping
curtain echoes a choir
of post-post ironic
agoraphobics.
Dopamine is a myth,
an expired meme
deemed mega cringe
Let the file rot into
informational abscess
Here we all wait before
Heaven's blockchained gate
tired of partaking into
a satire so removed from
a cogent solution,
It is simply void.
Here is coldest oblivion in
this stupid cyborg machine,
but the world is so
Y2K heat death-core
Whatever that means
It turned a generation
made us abandonware
Just to feed us nostalgia
for times when we
would bother to care.
"It's too good to be true"
I think about that saying a lot
But yes, if it seems true
Then, let me tell you
Most often it's probably not
Is it a hoot owl? Someone queried.
I had no idea. Wondering myself.
There are so many kinds of owls.
I had researched them.
It is probably not a barn owl I guessed.
For the barn had been torn down.
Two nights later I discovered my error.
Staring at me from the top of an elm tree was a large barn owl.
She looked at me in an accusing way.
How long will it take to rebuild that barn? I asked my husband.
We get a new mattress.
The dog is intrigued.
He chews it to bits.
We have no words.
Because he is a baby.
And we know he does not mean it.
We get new curtains.
He pulls them down.
The rod falls on his head.
I am sure he yelped.
We were not home
But we think he probably has learned his lesson.
He stood on the steps as his feet hit the floor
Opened the window and yelled out the door
Called for the cat using just the dog’s name
All was quite normal with nothing the same
He hopped in his car as he pedaled his bike
On a short walk that was such a long hike
Climbed up a tree while he rolled down the hill
Won’t do this again and he probably will
For the Nonsense Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Charles Messina
To probably
Is
Probably a day to late
I hazard a guess
Change passed by in the fast lane
Whilst raining
Concentrating on the blind spots
On the No 17 bus
On the top deck
And you are the only passanger
Apart from the driver
You offer me nothing
I think i will pass
Lets get rid of some words
Right lets start
with good and bad
wait all the hands are up both sides
F**k nope
what word would imitate
A guy with a dick on his head
kinda makes me chuckle
Next well i just used it
What about about
nope used it twice
I like dollop but i don't use it heaps
did you like that
remanded reminds me of reminded
Zoetrope old fash but i just love the shape
we probably won't need elephant soon
unless its to explain
come back God
get rid of your infallible mistake
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