MORNING

morning
you sonofabitch
you’ve ran off with my pants
the white light of snow
through the window
claws at my eyes
as i awake
to realize
i do not have my car

oh God
morning
the children through the wall
their screams of joy
like nails scratching at
my styrofoam skull
each hurricane tumble
a year off my life

i do not have my car
and my blood is made of whiskey
today is a beautiful fucking unicorn
that i don’t want to chase
but god dammit my bag
is in my car
and there’s two hour parking
where i parked
and this poem will probably be
the minute too late
as i arrive to blaring tow truck
eating my four-wheeled livelihood
like a black hole, a dark star
and this asteroid floats through space
pulled by all the gravities of the universe
hungover as shit
and not gonna lie
smiling

smiling at the demon i was
and the wretched angel i awoke as
this morning

COPYRIGHT BRICE MAIURRO 2015

CRICKETS

it looks like it’s just me and the crickets tonight
the crowds poured in like flash floods
they shook, they rampaged, they rumbled the house
they spilt their drinks all over the tables
they danced on the wet tables
they kissed in my closets
they unhinged my doors and they set my clothes on fire
they blew out my speakers with their digital tribal anthems
they cursed the name of daylight
their hands reached out towards the night sky
the room filled with smoke
the intercourse of chattering, the music of heart
they filled the crevices and corners of my life
the kissing gourami wallflower star-crossed lovers
who wake up demons with bad breath and hangovers
they clawed at the walls, they clawed the ceilings
they hung their reservations from the ceiling fan
and watch as it shredded them to dust
like leftover confetti on the mardis gras ground
i slipped into my bed, slipped into my mind
as the world turns turbulent around me
as the clocks lost track of time
and the freezer began to fill with pairs of keys
the morning came like snow on january first
and the floor was littered with bodies in coma
slowly they dwindled, they faded, they disappeared
out into the long line of cars
out into the systematic revolution of deadlines
and bus schedules and inevitable responsibility
now you listen to me and what i have to say
until you too wander off out into delusional reality
and then, as it always end up,
it’s just me and the crickets tonight

COPYRIGHT BRICE MAIURRO 2013

READ “WINDSTORM (A DREAM)”

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NIGHT OWL

the sun always invites himself in in the morning
picking up the half-empty p.b.r. cans
and judging the full ash tray
he judges the obscure notes
on crumpled-up sheets of paper
he judges the rotting food
and the air
that tastes like leftover sex
and unbrushed teeth
he judges the fist-sized hole in the wall
and the painting that fell down
during the world war of last night
now gone cold

he doesn’t get it
he’ll never understand
the happiness that we allow ourselves
when his back is turned

COPYRIGHT BRICE MAIURRO 2012

READ “CLEVER SALT SHAKERS”