i am taunted by the last fly of the year.
it keeps me away from my fire, my bed.
the wind outside howls like a dog uncertain.

–
process note: like, you know, i have not written a poem in a while. my life is, like, complicated and busy. owning a business, going to the park, macking bitches…it’s get a little heavy. so’ah, like, i’m taking december off to, you know, chill.

like, you know, this prompt comes from MeatRightPoem, a, you know, writing site.

WHALE MEAT

why wish for your words
when all but dogs disguise
the fact that knowning what
we want waits in juice
inside clean bowls.

thankyou

people,

people, you know, like to ask me all the time: “Moe, like, should dogs on the raw meat diet, you know, eat anything, like, with their meat?”

short answer: “Like, sure.” however, my MoPoWriMo answer is as follows:


BANANA

the smell of yellow love
fills the air like fragrance
set to sweeten the taste
of blood in my bowl

thankyou

some days, Woman dresses
in pink pajamas
like rabbit meat
in my bowl

All my love to my old friend,
the oldest I’ve ever had, 
a part of me that split off
long ago and comes back
again and again.

the smell of blood at my door
it must be the 14th
for it is then
that i see
what it is

woman gone to work at night

I crave the attention

of wanting a bowl full

of love

of meat

of love

hungry i sit
waiting for my meat
to simmer in the bowl

hungry i sit
watching woman
watching woman
watching woman

hungry i sit
like a good boy
waiting for my meat

Memories fade
the way
bones bleach
in the sun

I stack them
one by one
in the corners
of what I used to wear

There,
my meat blanket
stained with the joy

of marrow
by the fire

The sound
of Woman’s fork
down on the plate.

I wait, patient
on my haunch.

What’s left to finish
in time
is mine.

The clouds, like rain today.
I drain myself clear
in the yard, let fog disappear
in a roll not unlike
a meat tube.
My meal gone too,
I’m called, again and again,
to what nearly tastes
like gravy coming down.

Meat Gravy Upsidedown

My roommate gone

Meat on my tongue

Rest is the meal I crave

My bowl in the yard, stained

Collects rain

Gravy for later

At home, alone

I close my eyes
and wait for the torture to end
short of breath,
I’m still alive.
How long did I hold it for?
A minute, a year.
Another raw meat meal.

You can stew
the fire along
at night
but I’m fine, really
I’m fine with
my blanket
around my head
smelling my meat breath

There’s room enough
in the bed for me

ladies

there is no need
to fight for me

ladies

there’s room enough
in bed for me

ladies

but please,
let me lift the sheets

ladies

the M is for moe-dacious
the E is for eating
the A is for appetite
the T is for treating