"..." and "Everyday"

...

my poems

suck

the life

out of the pain

depression and hatred

that has-been

buried deep inside

for so long

my poems suck

the life

the injustice

that patient annihilation

crumbles 

my poems      

suck   

the pits

of my belly

internalized, my politics

drowning with sky

to make a mouth

that swallows

my poems

suck

the nausea the adage

that comes from being

sober

the nuance

it takes

life

to breed

life

my poems

suck extraordinarily

they suck magnificently

the ocean

out of the drowning

I find myself

depressing  

trying

to swim in

this burial

is waiting for me

to die, my life sucks

death from out of my palms

and into

...

 


 

Everyday
I wake up
is a new
poem

There once was a time
when we only had 9 words
to communicate. 9 impulses
to decree doctrine. My dad
had me on the same payment
plan in regards to frequency,
9 words were uttered and
only 9 moods were altered.
Parents expect you to take
accountability for your actions
while they take none. I unmade
my bed and lied   in it. The truth, 
I was accepting of those 9 words
because I had even less to give.
Time is real   frustrating. I keep
coming back to a place that makes
no sense. My beard makes me feel
more maternal. My father's hands
make me forget.

 

 

Thomas Fucaloro

The winner of a performance grant from the Staten Island Council of the Arts and the NYC Department of Cultural Affairs, Thomas Fucaloro has been on six national slam teams. He holds an MFA in creative writing from the New School and is a co-founding editor of Great Weather for Media and NYSAI press. He is an adjunct professor at Wagner College where he teaches world lit and advanced creative writing. He is a writing coordinator at the Harlem Children’s Zone and lives in Staten Island. His latest chapbook, There is Always Tomorrow was released in 2017 by Mad Gleam Press.

 

Edited for Unlikely by Jonathan Penton, Editor-in-Chief
Last revised on Friday, April 26, 2019 - 14:53