Hubris in A
(Feeding Ephredine to the Squirrels)
Selected poems by Josh Nichols


A Terminal Visit

There was more than a knock at the door,
The last time death entered.
Shakes and moans warned us last time. Now,
It floated in on wings of
feathery fluff...
Sat down,
Had a couple of smokes with the locals,
Told them to keep their shoes on,
Then left,
Leaving only pale stares
And dark moist air.


Additional Cashiers to the Front

So,
Sometimes I wonder,
Often until aching,
Why...,
I kissed reason on the cheek,
She slapped me delicately,
Before turning away
To avoid my personality,
Drove home to broken
air-conditioning,
And drunk-sick girlfriend,
Tormented me until morning,
About nothing and everything
I never did...
So,
Sometimes I wonder,
Often until aching,
Why the hell there’s no one here,
To CHECK ME OUT !


Well...?

I’ve read all that stuff,
The fly-by-night haikus,
The stupored ramblings
modern-day misfits,
Heirarchial denizens of
users, abusers, non-well-to-doers
The academe,
lost in genius genetic melancholy,
The romantic hopeless hopheads
with flowers, free-flowing hair.
and other transcedental mishaps,
The blue-collar collectors and
collagers of trash,
pieced into surreal
perfection...
Always alienated,
Semi-identified,
But will I,
(the onhe who wastes away days,
twisting, shaping mi memoria,
with a fine-toothed comb),
Will I?
Could I??
Ever be a poet???


Pink Flamingos

Two-car garage door
Stuck,
Grease-stain-carport-concrete
Slick and
Cracked,
As well the foundation,
Termite homes,
Under dog-spoiled shag,
Filled in by chewed fingernails,
Lost skin cells,
Door bell chimes,
No more...
Stroke of twelve,
Passion-pink flamingos,
Lie in bed,
Hurting one another
With each other’s presence.

- j.nichols

Way Out of Bounds

All night long you’ve been staring
at a moon-
Dreaming of a home
under her body
and kisses sweeter
than life,
You’ve been chasin
taillights since
Santa Fe,
trying to stay
alive...
You’ve been pushing long-
Too far to care,
Too tired to quit,
Catching up to yourself
On the downside...
But not for a
Long, long
while.

- j.nichols

Too Tired To Quit

Leaves stain inside the
Head don’t hurt
Unless medicine don’t work
And always does,
Exactly what she wants
Cuz life is good
And semi-sweet
That way,
Not too shabby for a
Poor fiend,
(from the fiend’s genes),
Who’ll drive a million miles
On a three day burn,
And not even notice-
How unclean it gets.

- j.nichols

Three Day Burn

Love is...
Hard to clean up
After,
the day its
Claws,
loosen, but
Remains the grasp
vivid,
confusing

- j.nichols