7.14.2015

A Grander Dream

we need their trees to breathe right––
how is all so uptight?
how is all so upright?
day and night––
I think a solution,
a grander scheme,
a grander dream,
just nearly might
happen in three dimensions––
a horrific suspension
of disbelief.

6.30.2015

And the Soft Wind Blows Now Available on Amazon UK (And US)!


Hello, Blog Readers!  My book (And the Soft Wind Blows) is now available for purchase in the UK (and still in the US)!  You can follow this link here: http://lanceumenhofer.com/buy-the-book.html to order it!  ($7.99 US; €5.19 UK)!  Happy July reading!   -Lance




6.12.2015

Cirque Du Insane

When will this circus end?
Round-and-round
Carnival tents
Clowns laughing, clapping
Carrying on
With their hands
Hankering balloons
Mistaken smiles
Of happy joy-joy
Love boat ride for everybody
Give the children a toy, boy
When will this circus end?

Maybe

Maybe I do deserve
ass on the grass
face to the sun
eyes to the skies
mind clear and absurd. 
head to the left
shaking a yes
teeth shining brightly
at my betrothed. 
legs as Indians
we sound like comedians 
birds accordions 
hearts always flow. 

Maybe you do deserve
a class act developing
personality enveloping
aching and trembling
heart always sure. 
a man on a fence post 
waiting for letters
handshakes through sweaters
never one to boast,
always throw in a toast. 
baking in the sun
going out on dry runs 
mailbox of feathers
heart always known. 

I guess we all do,
somewhere,
deep-deep down
somewhere. 
painting a fence
ready to dance
waiting for someone 
to be called You.

Cisterns

We've got cisterns
full of somethingless waste.
They bring black flowers
to white nights
on Broadway and East Fifth.
I live with them
in rundown mountains,
dying casinos,
roofless bars,
and fallen homes.
If you've seen them sitting
there, smiling, talking, laughing
with their beards and beers,
you've seen them falling
down into
empty streets
with whores, wretches,
junkies, and the like.
Always one step away
from dying too young
with nothing to say.
Always one sip away
from Nothingtown Oblivion--
Can't they find another way?
I watch them
as they whore themselves
so selfishly away
to all women with big smiles,
and countless adulteries
later
they're back to that same place
with those same eyes
lusting
and leading on
to a night
of hollowed out
ashtrays.

Nothingnight

In solitude
we wait for light to emanate through us like silver leaves falling down
into empty depths full of new hope,
thoughts, curdling always from the blackest of blacks––
blackness night voids
all.

We sit in our dilapidated boats, fishing in the streams,
our lines in the water curling and
circling around,
our minds receptive, casting nets into
nothingness black voids
all.

We realize ourselves in these brittle moments of nonthoughts—
hunting with our neuronconnecting rifles:
the little rabbits, the little fish
in black oceans and black fields––
black nothingnight voids
all.

Something Hardly Cleaned (Nonsensical Shit)

I’ve determined––
I need at least
one disgusting thing
in the place I live
forever.

––Something hardly cleaned,
To remind me how old I am––

Right now, it’s my ashtray:

After the butts had piled up
to where, again,
no more would fit,
I emptied it out,
tapping the trash can lip,
and placed it
back,
outside,
again.

But now
that it’s rid
of all those
horrible, disgusting
sins,
the bottom
lies thick
in wet tobacco
mixed with rain,
looking like sewer scum,

––nonsensical shit––

my stomach curls in.