in a beach town they buy the modest house

in a beach town they buy the modest house
months go by, no one lives there
there’s always a pause before something happens
when october is unusually hot
they take all the landscaping
shoveled onto the mouth of a dumpster
all of the interior walls too
everything that could be annihilated
just leftover outside walls and a roof like a rind
those gentle trees and palms plumeria
it’s a hard reset i suppose
life is like that with a twist of ego
decisions plans clearing all away
sweeping every little breathing flower into a heap of trash
the house is now prepared to become
a restrained style, as dignified as a tomb
but you live there
stone surfaces and blonde floors
a cunning kitchen
all smartly modern and done
but at night they might feel strange
because the yard and the house will 

gnaw on each other for lack of comfort

whatever we do is felt and seen
sometimes a kind of anger and vagueness lingers
the owners cannot completely shake off

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Poem for Father

 The mixed feeling go on and on
It isn’t his fault 
Sometimes he was loving 
Other times not 
Many times he was helpful
Sometimes he wasn’t 
He was friendly and frightening 
Insightful and condemning 
Happy deceitful 
Cunning as well as ignorant 
All things I have
Inherited from him 
As well as this body
Mind this face 
Looking like him
More and more everyday 
I’ll go everywhere 
He couldn’t go 
Be a version 
That loved a lot more 
Then dedicate it 
To him 

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