TOO MANY TOOTHS AND TWO LITTLE TRUTHS

I pulled the tooth out of the compost
pile, not because I had to, but because
it was there, I had to. I imagined
it was the tooth of a dinosaur.

The compost pile smelled
like a compost pile.

The tooth smelled
like a compost pile.

Every year or two I wonder
why I pulled the tooth out.

I never wonder how it got there in the first place.

Five or six years ago I lost the tooth.
By which, I mean, I flushed it down the toilet.

I flushed it down the toilet because I was afraid
that if I simply threw it in the trash,
I would dig it back out.

The trash smelled like compost.
The toilet smelled like toilet.
The tooth is gone forever.
The compost is now a garden
Dying it's fall death.

life and death on a slider scale

if you held out your hand i'd slap it
nicely, of course in the gesture of a high
five. in the morning i woke up and smoked
a cracker jack ship of dreams
squeezed into teenage jeans and addict
schemes. your sleeze isn't as hidden
up your sleeve as you would like
us to believe, so just be brief
in your freedom and free in your
bevy of unwashed hand
clasps.
your button is rubbing my thigh
bone and causing a cloud of pink
on my white fleshy man bits.
i know, right?
no, i know no right, just know wrong.
wrong is a lot easier to get right
and be sure of it.
right is decades of tests before answering and still not knowing if the final plunge will plunge us all into death. i like death, but not as much as i like life. i like life because of lifes relationship with death, what's to like about life if it isn't at risk EVERY MINUTE OF EVERY DAY OF EVERY YEAR OF EVERY DECADE? well nothing probably.

feelin' iffy spiffy?

if i had to nail my worth
to a word, shiver in it's
decrepit/silent/still falling
world, i'd follow lonely
women home from the hospital.
i'd be afraid of death.

i'd be afraid of death,
if every time it returned i felt
closer to the reality of a life
coalesced in the secrets between
here and maternity wardens.
i'd be afraid of living.

if i had to nail my sword
to a wide swath of land, defended
by my own hand's will to keep
working/falling/scraping/kneeling
before eternal sunrise light
i'd be afraid of nothing, but night.