Trevor Abes: Writer

Tag: short poems

Quitting Lasts Forever

Hanlan’s Point

Saturdays Are For Floating

Hale

A lunch tray with aluminum and styrofoam in a quarter-full food court with a city view enhancing the podcast I’m listening to about teasing out patterns I don’t know I’m following

Turnaround

You don’t always have to choose the thinnest paperback

You can fan yourself out and play in caves where shadows don’t obfuscate the exit

You can see them again and prefer to save the effort of pushing through the crowd

Let the dog ears settle before you’re comfortable

With someone kissing on your mind again

The exchange rate from blinders to uninhibited senses is always favourable

Call that commitment instead

No more being stunned like cattle, the drive of genius displaced on people

Who will find the fine print in ride or die when it’s convenient

 

Respite

—Liked what you read? Grab a book.

Moving Out II

An excerpt from “Moving Out II” off of my book of poetry, The Breakup Suite.

Print copies available through Amazon.

PDF copies through me.

Little Warm Glow

A reading of “Little Warm Glow” from my new collection of poetry, The Breakup Suite.

Grab your print copy thru Amazon.

PDF copies available through me.

 

Arteest

Leading myself on’s got the old animal instincts shot

But ruminating til your stomach turns inside out

Not really knowing where you’re going is what R&D is

This is why sugar generates sense when shit goes to hell

And death and mindlessness fess up to being family 

When Wipeout or Floor is Lava is on

My latest chance at self-expansion, tarnished 

By a lack of dabbling in evil, disguised

As fun that wouldn’t have been any fun

It helps me heal to think

On a path with space that means I’m independent

Or afraid of refreshing my email every 10 minutes

To see if I get what I want

Playing clairvoyant only if I think I know what you believe

Whether or not you hinge on it to stand out from your chosen throng

To suggest purpose + minimal reverence for inevitabilities 

That can’t be made to wait for rest

Slightly Less Terrible

Digging without treasure doesn’t make sense

There is no moment between yesterday and today

It just keeps going

When I said I hated the incense

And you still let me smoke a cigarette inside because it was cold

I didn’t have the lenses to intuit the presence of preciousness 

When you quit drinking and neglected to call me for a month

And I didn’t give you any shit about it

You mistook my devotion for a sign of low self-esteem

Despite the park sunburns, laundromat ruminations

Elaborate budget-salad meal prep

And diminishing shame for the buoyancy 

Of Burgundy and brie on brioche afternoons

The universe still failed to smarten up to us

To how we stood against going TV test-patterned 

Late at night to clean ourselves of the gunk of the day

Because it gave us something to control and accumulate

When $11.25 an hour felt like a blessing

Even though it made us unfathomable in our critical awareness

As if we were owed interest on our anguish

When that’s just not how fixed income works

%d bloggers like this: