images of subways
strewn with graffiti
an old iron grate door
perched along a sidewalk
...
transformers
are all corners and hard
they have a core to them
I hit this kid with one
...
There is this bona fide
Indian burial ground in this
city
right next to the ball park
...
great back flakes are
falling all over the place
for Easter island
charities
...
You know what man?
he asked me.
What? , I said.
I had a real rough time
...
Sometimes it will just
flash once
and the screen will say
new voice message
...
how long is this going to take
limbo period
conversation forced
if you are with others
...
the sort of person that burns down
a housing project yet to
be inhabited by people
do they feel that the price
...
Lets all take this moment
to rest the sun on our
faces
look up
...
I own fifty
me two hundred
one for every day of the week
and two for Sunday
...
Robert Brendan was born in Calgary in 1979. He lives in an old house with three cats.)
Poems About Meth
plenty of them
oh you bet your shard
and cut off bic pen
on it.
you could stake your cupboard
with baggies scraped
and ready to be scrapped
and then hell
smoked whole.
if it gets that bad.
old bits of glass that
you will know
you will need
later on