Joseph M. Gerace

>What makes Me cry, I never saw Numb against the invisible pillowed hair Then matting it down One pill at a time It could be, it could be What it is Love sick marriage Splitting us, the cleaving what remains Not between us, for us, because us, Beneath us. making love but Warring ideals =…

> 1 No impossible morning coffee caught half an hour in a forever cup rain, i’ll sip of you scared to accept all of you and is there ever too much time will our love curl under and away like cold from an open ice box? 2 only men at work are sublime the ball…

> through a keyhole one spies a beating a boy on his back the thick bald Man hung over leather belt, flash of buckle imposing His vague hate on a still boy His red tanning the voyeur’s eye pressed to the keyhole we spy nothing. -for One who took his own, for Another who gave…

>leash it, Sarah and be the sun -drunk- pushing through coy & precious clouds crowding out the night eating all his rice flea-by-flea quarantined & quarantined & pinion to light he is not polite, nor nice. he does not deserve his sight, a gift too-big too-bright for such a fetid blight, feel no shame if…

>no kiss to heal i feel so naive, the way children devour paternal love with no intelligent comprehension but understand when the thing is too fragile when the lonely couple is weak, i wean myself off petulence then cut what remains, hard diagonal slices stick to the soil, resolved in nude patience and, now, free…

>Affectionate, but underwhelming wearing too much deep green on mayonnaise skin an ounce on yr sunshy hip ( yr shamrock is small ( & will stay small ) Dote: Kicking sand into the dry breeze thick meals slowly souring under the sun’s thumb hungry teens _their stomach _their mind _their heart _their hands _their upturned…

>You think too long about what else belongs in yr coffee, “One large uh Coffee. With, uhmilk? And uh. Yeah, and one. Uh.. Uh. Twouh, sugars. And Sugar. One, no two sugars.” I focus too long on anger, desire to let hate warm the mouth, splash gums & teeth with whatever sweet becomes when it…

>dip yr feet in the frigid sea, with everything right & wrong to no man marching belongs no is a not-thing, no temptress, no burnbleaching sun, no vacuum blanket of pure dust choked static yr ankle coming up, the ripple yr final tow, apple red paint …

>if yr mother likes the simple shit you writ if there’s nothing subtle nor an empty spoonful of softskulling wit if yr tongue don’t click with a sharp tin tick puddle cuddle shuttle scuttle rebuttal if wet words peel neatly off the tile before yr bent-over sick [if there’s nothing worth ascent this pretty poison…

>it is this photo or the next, where i love you. so which you will i see: someone’s rich little girl or she weilding beauty’s hammer? no though it is you i love, here you’re grey. grey and sparse, a shell of our performer but gorgeous beyond their compare. for they are fools and perpetrators…