Joseph Goosey - Poems

Joseph Goosey lives in Southern Pines, North Carolina. A dropout of the MFA program at George Mason University, he is the author of four chapbooks. 

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I BOUGHT A NETI POT FOR WHICH TO FLUSH OUT YOUR SCENT

Grief does what it can to clog the sinus Apologies
for appearances It’s my driving
what makes objects messy A combination
of my driving and your recent turning to salt 
                                                                      Last year I spent a shit load of energy 
                                                                      on a child to whom I was no parent
                                                                      The ocean had an ending for us both 
                                                                      Neither of us could know
What's in the microwave for tonight and who
plans to be sexy while it cooks I'm turning
into a person who disgusts the people I'm around
but remain comfortable in that kind of wind
                                                                   Whatever your child cried you sang to him
                                                                   Not every time but some of the times
                                                                   When you sang to your crying child
                                                                   I felt warm on his behalf
Am I being held for questioning
If so I am in a bitter mood
Once released from questioning I will travel
to the Raleigh arboretum to burn down the redwood 
                                                                   You are symbol for what isn't
                                                                   Or at least what isn't any longer 
                                                                   There is an H-Bomb in my memory
                                                                   and no respite in the lungs
Your child told jokes about ghosts taking poops
When I laughed I meant it
When I did a lot of shit I meant it
I suppose I still mean it but still feel so melon balled 
                                                                   Little villages without food 
                                                                   Grow in my carpet 
                                                                   But when you're a flea
                                                                   there is always food so I will become a flea
Feeding on blood is a funny thing to do
Funny as the way in which I'm being treated as though I'm a receipt for your donuts
How long can you continue to swim
How long before the salt


 
                                  AMTRAK REMIX

When I make my paintings
I prefer not to have any buttons buttoned
if you know what I mean,
said some painter I met on a holiday train
I nodded to indicate yes
meaning always of course no.
We were in the café cart,
he for a personal frozen DiGirono
and I for…I don’t remember.
Back at my assigned seat
I slept next to a woman
who reminded me of Morgan Freeman
whenever Morgan Freeman is cast as god
in movies where god has to come down
and intervene in one man’s life
for a relatively trivial reason.
In the morning she told me I didn’t sleep well,
that I was shivering
and she tried to keep me warm
but I was twitching too,
which made that difficult.
I haven’t bee well, I told her.
She gave me the same nod I gave to the painter
and shut her eyes again
either to go back where she came from, die,
or ‘cause she had another eight hours
(I originally said years)
until Fort Lauderdale.




                            PARTY HORNS

The congestion shows its appreciation for the lungs
while on New Years Eve
I ingested a drug cocktail
in an effort to reduce the images
you’ve photocopied
into my loins
and off of my cornea

A girl followed me home
and I let her
because am at once afraid
and accommodating

At some point there were dogs
and I agreed to being someone I wasn’t
then I realized I often agree
to being someone I’m not

Running around with a two children
and a sled on very little snow
You had a glass in hand when I met you
I don’t know
if that was a warning

At the Days Inn
or maybe the Best Western
I don’t remember
because we went to the wrong hotel first
and I got angry in front of you,
maybe for the first time
You asked me to sleep in the other bed
and again I acquiesced
because again I am afraid,
accommodating, doting, drooling,
hardly even sentient
I should have took that
as a warning

I took it as understanding instead
Instead next time
the effigy will take out more of the field
 

                                  SUMMARY

People itch incessant. Over the weekend
I took some ecstasy, got a seatbelt citation,
said good day, said goodnight, said happy days
are surely to arrive, bought a flea comb,
bought flea medicine, bought people food,
bought cat food, sniffed, swallowed, and spat,
considered saying a lot of things
from which I refrained, considered saying a lot
from which I couldn’t refrain, sat by fire,
scratched by the fire, vacuumed the carpet,
vacuumed the perch, dreamt your presence,
experienced your absence, cleaned the litter,
scraped the litter, saw the moon, burnt a plank,
pretended a finale, remembered arcades,
imagined arcadia, avoided a get together,
viewed unpleasant facts, remembered facts
just as unpleasant, did a line of coke,
danced to Ma & Pa after another line of coke,
checked for fleas, lost a war, won a battle.



            BY THE GRILL WITH THE LANDLORD

​This poem should inhabit the worst world imaginable,
go full regalia,
and then exit safely.

Having been ruined wholesale as a fidget
I am unable to pay the court costs
and must go before the trial of fire.

Please hand me that toad
in case certain things become reality.

Heart breaking down:

all those barriers.
We’re taught
to elicit confessions.

Fleas leap from host to dream.
Tonight I ate an allergy to be polite,
go full regalia,
and in sleep
will regret whatever.