Archive for the David LaBounty Category

secure your own mask first, and then help others by David LaBounty

Posted in David LaBounty with tags on March 12, 2017 by Scot

the men
who
sit
at
bars
alone

they
take
the
stool
with
their
sideways
hearing

they
order
their
beer
and
look
around
for
a
moment
and
then
look
ahead

the beer arrives

and
they
drink
the
beer
slowly
and
pull
out
their
phone
and
start
scrolling
with
their
thumbs

there
are
always
so
many
people
there

underneath

their
pale
solitary
thumb

Advertisements

the body and the blood by David LaBounty

Posted in David LaBounty with tags on August 3, 2013 by Scot

meat

she was
meat
not
like
food
but
maybe
more
like
the
body and the blood

of the
naked
Christ

getting
me
through
the
wishbone
of my
yellow years

years
like
the
hollow
points
of
a thousand
amens

come on
next lady

come and
pray
with me
again

craigslist by David LaBounty

Posted in David LaBounty with tags on June 10, 2012 by Scot

sometimes i look

the way one looks
for another job
even when one
is happily employed

so here i am

looking for love
and
other love
among the
peace signs

and often,
when the
women
are my
age, just

at the
beginning
of the end

they are
all looking
for the
same kind
of thing

a single white male

hardworking
and
sane
and
stable

and i think
i am all of
those things

but, i
tell myself
as i walk
away from
the screen

if i’m here

how stable can i be

on the death of the family dog by David LaBounty

Posted in David LaBounty with tags on June 26, 2011 by Scot

and maybe
our shared
grief will
bring us back
together

and maybe
she will
say that
I know
it’s been
a year
but perhaps
we could
try again

and I
would come
back home

triumphant
like a
fallen king
returning
from exile,
carrying

loads of
laundry
my ex-wife
knows
nothing
about

the laundry
filling
both of
my empty
hands

Two Poems by David LaBounty

Posted in David LaBounty with tags on November 19, 2010 by Scot

America

America
today
you are
grilled meat
and hand
shakes

today
you are
egalitarian
blue skies
and
cold
forgiving
beer

today
you are
the air-
conditioned
Cadillac
idling
at the
light

today
you are
the middle
aged woman
at the
Laundromat
with varicose
veins and
blue jean
shorts

today
you
are the
man
who lives
at the
corner
of
Clarkston
and
Lapeer
his bike
overloaded
with blankets
and
plastic
bags

today
you are
this and
a thousand
other
tree
and
flag-lined
streets

waiting

for another
forgetful
parade

____________

a concern

please
put
the
mercy
bird
back
in its’
cage

I don’t
want
it to
swallow
the
poems
I’ve been
leaving
behind

poems like
bread crumbs

poems
that I’ve
scattered
along
the
path that
leads to
the
near side
of
heaven