May 28
Charles Bivona420 POEMS
SO, tell me, man, about this ingenious chick who’s traveling from Clifton to the door of your garden apartment in the New Jersey night. Tell me she’s bringing pretzels — hopefully dutch bavarian, because they remind me of the movie Say Anything. Have you ever seen Say Anything? It’s a classic. It defined love in the 1980s — and also led to the adorable cliche of holding a boom box over one’s head, broken-heartedly — and John Cusack is in it, so you know it’s good.
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May 16
Charles Bivona420 POEMS
A self-aware universe. Deep childhood pain burned emotional pathways down to your human core. No—you couldn’t. The world was more alive to you after each attack. Waking up was always joyful. You couldn’t have tried harder.You didn’t slice open your wrists or suck on a gun muzzle. You hate the word “therefore.” You have known humiliation and loss. You have lost so much despite trying not to. You have suffered so much. You imagine your psyche as a field drought soil. You like to think of yourself as cracked by pain. You limped along. You made it to adulthood on the planet Earth. Your consciousness became your most valued possession.You realized that when you started blacking out from panic. You returned from non-consciousness to full consciousness over and over and over again. Your stress levels were so high that your brain turned off. You started paying it more attention— You stayed alive. You stayed alive at times when you absolutely didn’t want to. You stayed alive—somehow. You tell yourself that.You tried so hard. You tried to kill yourself with alcohol. You tried to kill yourself with cigarettes. You tried to kill yourself with work—study—achievement.You wanted to understand it. You were lucky. —because consciousness is always better. —being poetic. —but no less-also.—cracked in a trillion spider webbed vessels— —flowing and morphing— —fractured and porous— —from moment— —meat storms— —no more than electrical— —no more— —reunited with itself— —said the second guessing doctor. —shifting simultaneous— —therefore— —to moment—
YOU CAN
Watch the Poem
Continue to
RANDOMLY GROW
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Mar 28
Charles Bivona420 POEMS
…while the headless
fir coats tip-
toed by my door
on the feet of the suited
guffaws from the darkness
loud music and the stick
figures waltzing
and then…
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