Tropical motel bedspread

 

We are two bodies pulsing

Like woozy clouds in an electrical storm

 

In the jaguar black night

Of the burnt-out rainforest

 

The smoke detector lights a cigarette

And so does the door with its useless chain

 

This bedspread sounds like a parrot

With yellow eyes

 

Outside a new alcohol is being made

Of decaying mosquitos and ash and moonlight

 

The wind turbine makes one silent revolution

And you roll over

 

I look at the neon exit sign

First with just my left eye then just my right

 

We could be anywhere

But we are here.

 

Stomachs

 

Everything that has a stomach is getting rained on

Tonight. Why go on

Having a stomach?

 

A cow has like three or nine stomachs or something

And right now I have a cow in my stomach.

 

My bad

Life.

 

 

Green Cowboy

 

In the halfway-

House I started smoking Maverick Menthols

The ones with the green cowboy on the box

 

Everything time I dragged a cheap white

Plastic chair over the dying weeds

& lit up

I’d pretend

I was that Kelly green cowboy

Riding my Kelly green horse

Over a Kelly green meadow

Into a Kelly

Green sunset

 

Goddamn I was so bored then.

 

When there’s nothing good on tv

 

I have a special pet

Wolverine

Mostly we just sit on the carpet

And watch tv together

But sometimes

Just for the fuck of it

I feed it a bunch of cocaine and

Pills and whiskey and

Watch it tear around the apartment

And scream and claw my chest open and

Claw my face open

And then after a while

I get sick of it a

And I yell

“Fuck you
I’m sleeping on the couch tonight.”

 

It’s there and not there

 

a rat thin-boned bird a deer being

hunted through a white forest of white trees

 

the frozen water two places at once

the frozen water

between the rocks and

 

through the air a golden wooly cold

a soft golden hand song holding on

as the match blows out

 

unrolling leaves we can rebel against

a history made of clay, fish guts, steel,

ash, corn and plastic and old Pepsi cans.

 

cheap seats

 

This morning’s performance of the subterranean trucker’s orchestra

Features a selection of new American drone pieces.

 

The conductor lights her cigarette with a blowtorch, coughs

Flips on her CB radio, clears her throat

 

And for a brief moment before the first movement there is only

The crackling of static and sound of doves cooing in the cheap seats.

 

Then enter the timber, the office chairs, followed

By the jacuzzis, and the hogs-to-be-slaughtered in the wind

 

 


BIO: Mike Andrelczyk lives with his wife in Strasburg, Pa. His book of 30 haiku “The Celesta Made of Water” can be found at bonesjournal.com. His work has appeared in “Fluland,” is/let,” “Occulum,” “The Inquisitive Eater,” “Modern Haiku” and elsewhere. His name appears on the title screen of “Major League 2.” Follow on Twitter at @MikeAndrelczyk and on Instagram at @Dickiethon.