coat of ghosts

i move about
a skeleton
in a coat of ghosts
beneath an old blue place
people stop to say hello
even offer hugs
i smile & sometimes even
a laugh comes out
they don’t know
i’m 3 parts ghost
it’s all a show
b/c everyone who really
made me smile
is gone
they’re ghosts i wear
around me
like a cloak
& when i’m in my room alone
all i do is i cry
listening to songs
that make me remember
all i’ve lost
a skeleton w/ tear ducts
from when i was alive
& today they pass me & smile
they don’t know
my grin is a frown in disguise
even when we shake hands
they don’t notice my grip
is all bone
cuffs of ghosts at my wrists
i’m just a skeleton
in a coat of ghosts
moving about
beneath an old blue place

————————————————

suspended in the night

i woke in the wee
hours of the night
my arm numb
from sleeping on it
& i thought how
we bring things
into existence
w/ our reins of vessels
& circling blood
& slim branches
of nerves, etc…
& while my arm
slowly came
back to life
i lay there in silence
straddling both worlds
the unscrambled one
& one of total nothingness
the latter, of course
my better acquaintance

———————————————-

a visitation

i met my mother the day
after her father suddenly
died in the street
8 years before i was born
she was in the laundrymat
across the street
from our old apartment
in brooklyn
asking herself out loud
how dare the dryers spin?
the machines turn?
don’t they know that
my father’s gone?
& i was there next to her
folding my clothes
on a long white table
twice her age
i gave her my condolences
i told her my mother died
on a sunny day in june
while the baseball game played
loud on the hospital tv
while i was there in the room
& i asked the sun
to stop what it was doing
just for a moment
but it kept on shining
she stared at me as if she
knew something
said she was sorry & thank you
& then looked away
watching the towels lift & drop
in the little round window
& i picked up my basket
& walked out into the blaze
of my dream

Listen to OM & Styx Viscous – We Coffin Up It’s True by STYX VISCOUS on #SoundCloud

Listen to Gold Fears – OmStyx.mp3 by Theodore Aplin on #SoundCloud

Listen to UnentitLed – OmStyx by Theodore Aplin on #SoundCloud

Gaza and the New Year

The world is preoccupied in 

Preparing for the New Year celebrations

The Gazans are engaged in 

Looking for crumbles of bread,

a bottle of potable water,

A shelter from coldness,

And tarpaulin to protect from the rain.

The world launches the fireworks 

That symbolize the so-called civilization

But the Gazan children are killed with the bombshells

That scatter their soft flesh

And the dogs snatch their bodies.

The world turn on the lights and music

That turn the world into deep darkness

And lead to craziness.

While the Gazans have no light

To see each others in tents

And their music is the sound of drones and jets.

The world shares  the beauty of the family

While the Gazans are either homeless or martyrs.

The world feels the warmth of home

But the Gazan children die from the severe coldness.

The world distributes gifts

On children 

However the Gazans’ gifts are heavy lethal bombs and rockets.

That dismember their limbs,

Kill their beloved 

And demolish their homes.

The world gives  children sweets

And the Gazan children receive the white coffins.

The world is celebrating the new beginning of the year

Whilst the Gazans are waiting for the end of their misery.

If you’d like to support poet Ahmed Miqdad and his family at this time, please feel welcome to support and share his GoFundMe here.

A Long Way Away

He’s at Lost Sock

About to order a quad

And a crogel

And he realizes that 

The person in front of him

Is someone that

He used to know

From the Peace Corps

Another volunteer

And no one

Says anything

And he isn’t sure

If she recognizes him

But he thinks

She probably does

And as she 

Gets her coffee 

And walks out of 

The coffee shop

He realizes that

Those Peace Corps days

Feel a long way away.

Taylor Dibbert is a writer, journalist, and poet in Washington, DC. He’s author of, most recently, the poetry collection “Takoma.”

come see the skinny-necked sparrow leaving tracks in the snow

Nijinsky brought his own moonlight

and everything else 

was papier-mâché

a caterpillar curled up on the grain of firewood

she tested the strength of the bleach on the tip of her tongue

how the picture of his mother became a mirror for fixing her hair

a congested bear on tv hawking honey-flavored cough syrup

taking turns telling me why I need a Titanium phone

there for her first pickled onion

remembering the birthdays of the dead

it was the strawberries in the shortcake he didn’t like

snow –
the chirp of a robin
so muffled