Anonymous asked: roses are red violets are blue etwon sucks but so does joe xu — sobreguts

a fine start from my depressing friend joey 1 shoe.   

cash rules; every thing, a round me

this post marks the end of this project.  i will do other things now.  

however, i have enabled question asking if any of you out there would like to post first drafts of your poems.  just click on “axe me a poemb.” up there under the banner.  happy trails, good luck, be safe, be kind, and thanks.  

entropic of cancer

ethan milner

so you don’t want me; 

fine, i don’t want you, 

i’ve accounted for 

everything and chosen

withdrawal

i take it all back, all

the wasted neurons,

nuance, the dried ink,

wet brain, the soup puked

in the drawer

one day it will be you

on a splint, tied up and

sobbing, half your heart

beating, viscous tears

ruddy and pooling

one day they’ll turn time

in reverse, we’ll shrink

to become ideas, lakes

will suture themselves

closed

and all mistakes will be 

unmade, abuses unsaid, 

we’ll take apart the shelves

and words will float off their pages,

become unwritten, unread, unlearned

and we’ll be blight erased,

a faint hue on the concrete’s

true obverse

the night escape

ethan milner

high nights where 

you prance around 

with your shopping

bag dangling back,

an animated imitation

of real people 

stark plum, that deep dark —

you capsize out the door

onto, into it, you feel boxed in

like an escapist’s plunge, dunked 

in the gaslight glow of the tank

and it is easy to see you in there, 

at least easy as clearing fog

from a window with a sleeve,

at least it would be easy if that 

sort of thing were easy to see

pillory

ethan milner

you, god, you ghoul

want tax-free blood

from the lion’s den,

for men to be waist high

and to believe 

they’re eye level

no offense, but i don’t believe that —

nothing personal

but believing is seeing

i’m truly not a cynic, 

more like pastiche, 

patchwork belief, alternating

adamantine and weak, 

alone in a room impervious

to heat, you see

radiators know only what they see:

vapors, 

ciphers, 

    pores, portals 

history

tourbillon

ethan milner

nobody noticed the spot on my sweater —

i walked to work on time, looked up

at the only tall building in this city and

its empty balconies

all the wheels spun rhythmically 

i communicated effectively, organized efficiently

wearing this stain like a birthmark —

the spot is dull, the ghost of a splash

of oil worn out of these fibers

by hours, weekends, workdays

and what should i say about it, really, 

this stain? that i was bound by it, 

prone like prometheus?

no, of course it was much more dull,

conspicuous under a wry joke, 

a reminder of the time, 

that it’s elapsed again

PAVO (Planet Earth, S01E09)

ethan milner

the injured loser may not survive!

he waddles into the snow,

feathers fouled with

bird blood

the injured loser may not survive!

impish quills, and claws

unfit to fight such

fowl

O injured loser, full of bird beer and

plumage envy, hold that train high —  

would that we could console you

with the stakes so dire, alas

we know there are no more

peahens in the sea.

c-11

ethan milner

troublemaker tries to jump into dad’s lap,

  blushing baby is asleep and adored, 

troublemaker lashes out, throws the sippy

  cup, fondles strange suitcases, shrieks 

a kind of desperation that shouldn’t come 

  from a child, dad tosses him around

sometimes playfully, mom covers up his 

  mouth when he screams, dad checks

his watch and looks incredulous telling

troublemaker to shut up and pulls 

down over his face a worn adidas hat,

whittling dad down to an angle, just 

brim and goatee, mom is self-conscious, 

doles out feigned censure, yanks 

troublemaker around, praises baby 

for the hush, the elderly couple 

in matching red sweaters quietly scorn

while they wait to board, mom’s 

fake gucci glasses fall half on her face

doubling her vision to panorama,

into her compound eyes i speak up and

tell her that her child has unmet 

attachment needs, he’s crying because 

he’s scared, this is exactly the time

to coddle that need, a secure child will

save you grief and heartburn, and 

scaring him while he’s scared, teaching 

him that the only people who should

protect him won’t, that when life gives you 

shit it then doubles down, it will 

destroy him, pricy stroller notwithstanding

mom snaps her glasses off her forehead,

throws them into her purse, her universal

vision gone, the astral plane cleared,

and all day i listen to troublemaker’s wail,

saying nothing.