‘rock salt’   it built back in ’78 and never stopped. inches to feet, feet to yards, yards to an ever-accumulating expanse of miles. treacherous traveling but who ever thought to shovel the journey from beneath their eyes. howling winds the limbs seemed to withstand, trunks sure and strong my god did the lineage ever get it wrong. the dna never made to carry this mess the cells like glass impacted by the blocks kept by one and to one another. i remember the drifts the wind made the image of...

‘bring your christmas decorations in’   fickle february melts then brings back the snow under a dead eye i walk counter-clockwise time flies with the crow and at the corner           a myriad of directions           only one choice. baby jesus left outside from the manger did he make much noise i sympathize shunned for reliance upon my own voice does plastic skin still tremble will it ever warm           taken inside? mary and joseph say the wind slays on days like these i...

‘have pain, will travel’   these high hats make funny shadows of my hands three for the price of one like auras illustrating the way i feel dark, grey and just a whisper.  i have no business writing under this light it will only f**k up my sight, really but anyone wondering what i might be up to will bear witness to my laborious squinting, my dogged approach, and not realize the sheer amount of despair i carry.   * #barflypoet #josephapinto www.josephpinto.com © Copyright...

‘when will she’   she brought the woods into my heart but she insists on standing  outside our forest this lone tree without sun this bent thinking of hers.   when will she realize she has every right to sky and no seed goes punished.   of all the limbs i could choose i choose hers to wait under and when it becomes too much i’ll cup all she spills and gently nourish her roots.   when will she learn whichever way she leans is the direction i am...

‘curtain’   veiled silence enlightens the nuances tonight a young woman appears animate,  she is pale and fainting by inches, i know, my cranial base a window but without the view. what covers my eyes a phantom illusion; she’s security issues while i a letter without return , address and in this imaginary flesh i try.          the abyss comes forged in alabaster not the barely sufficient perpetuity for which i strive.   the woman loves a charmer but i am a workshop, solemnity...

‘corner’   i don’t want to be here anymore. i’m not afraid to admit it. i’m not afraid to say it. i’m tired of the constant dismissals. i’m tired of actions not matching the words the cowardice, the absolvement of blame, the walking away like i hardly ever mattered, or was, or will be. i’m tired of my role. i’m tired of my mask. i’m tired of writing in a pad whoring myself under the pimp of a hand.  * #barflypoet #josephapinto www.josephpinto.com © Copyright Joseph A....

‘komorebi’   for once i lost the words. for once all in my world drew its breath. you, cross-legged atop your blanket, me, little boy bursting from my chest. the portrait brushed around us so lush in pause. “on my final day this is where i wish to end,” but a playful frog took my thoughts before i vented. and the lake you longed adopted i immediately made my own, a mirror i had lacked all my life. my throat hitched. i turned my back so you wouldn’t see. you know me, my leaky eyes, my...

'final test'   drink till all goes spinning riches a combustion within the head rejuvenated spark a circle an expression of deafness,      immediately night flutters      and a pedestal      above the strange and fantastic,      this imperceptible ghost. multiplied the fall a stiff wire my shadow jumped top bottom, almost incarnate, now the others disorient the pale of my spirit and regrets like a hasty man’s mistakes.        but my own, severed, twitching      and awakened;...

(volume up)     ‘no title’   left hand receives. the universe’s temperament  presses with its giving hand against my throat.   why did i come here to drink?   assessment of my days like a piano hits the wrong notes. four stools down the maestro taps a blue pen. unforgivingly.    jesus bathes under mosquito corpses.   the last draft of my story requires a final edit. with a whoosh the front door opens, so quiet as it...

‘in a hotel away from eyes’   the haunt is recognizable staring back i know this from when i was young the father, the son, neither ever holy, like stray dogs followed the ghost of which so many but now only one. the watch gone missing though like cicadas the spinning hands buzzed and interrupted unseen thoughts, until finally manifested too late. “i don’t want to die” but by then cancer claimed him, a cheap stripper breasts squeezed together for a last fleshly feel.   lately...

‘the light in the dark’   every story has a start. so this is what that is. a start. or maybe this is the end, because a start does not necessarily begin cleanly. so this might very well be the start of the end. and if you think i’m being poetic, i’m not. i think i’ve reached the point where i can be honest and say i’m existing, and that’s just not life, right? every day struggling to find meaning while excuses add up. why am i staying when my worth has been proven less? it’s a bitter pill...

‘abditive’   part of the sham is participating in it. so pour the masquerade like a cold one into glass. drink it slow or fast. doesn’t matter because the bloat will follow you home. all they say heads your way but never is it meant for you. like bubbles children try to snatch from july sky, it floats just close enough to delight then gone. every one of those conversations a soap slick residue atop your skin. nothing short of an unnatural phenomenon. so stick it out with that glassy smile...

‘and i know’   and i know that you don't want what i want  anymore. #barflypoet #josephapinto www.josephpinto.com © Copyright Joseph A. Pinto. All Rights Reserved. * 'From My Front Steps,' 'Scotch and Scars' and 'A Distilled Spirit' poetry collections available in paperback and ebook on Amazon. * www.etsy.com/shop/JosephPinto --- Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/joseph-pinto3/support

‘approaching’   the moon approaching  the transformation begins  this beast now a wilder thing. #barflypoet #josephapinto www.josephpinto.com © Copyright Joseph A. Pinto. All Rights Reserved. * 'From My Front Steps,' 'Scotch and Scars' and 'A Distilled Spirit' poetry collections available in paperback and ebook on Amazon. * www.etsy.com/shop/JosephPinto --- Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/joseph-pinto3/support

it’s nearly summer vacation so now what’s your excuse??   ‘can’t stop me’   when i get the call that my daughter’s school is closing due to inclement weather i stay up late and drink like it’s the first day of summer vacation.  #barflypoet #josephapinto www.josephpinto.com © Copyright Joseph A. Pinto. All Rights Reserved. * 'From My Front Steps,' 'Scotch and Scars' and 'A Distilled Spirit' poetry collections available in paperback and ebook on...

‘piggies’   and just like that she makes her feet home in my lap says boy rub my piggies i came a long way for your palms   well i never had no market now i’m stocking shelves i wanna keep her fed and i love her tongue in my mouth   so she tastes me inside out and knows she no longer walks alone and if my baby wants me i’ll carry my baby home   i am home, i am home for my baby i am home, i am home for my baby   and just like that she steals my heart away in her...

the bottles, the empty bottles…   ‘at 2am’   i'll put this as succinctly as i can:  you treat me like shit.   disguise your shortcomings if you must  (and you must) preach the honor of your duty (i no longer listen)  the only role i have ever asked is that you actually see me   instead you have left me wayward twisting in restless sleep  drowning in bottles;   i am not above saying i have failed.  #barflypoet #josephapinto www.josephpinto.com © Copyright Joseph A....

someone teach me the reasons and not the lesson…   ‘filipendulous’   tired. spell it. two vowels and thirty-three bowed vertebrae like overpacked luggage from my spine. i’m good keeping possessions but what i own ain’t mine. a chest with a hole and no room to fit in. one more scotch or bourbon don’t ask for reasons i wouldn’t know where to start and if i did you wouldn’t listen. a shadow scabbed over shouldn’t be picked. so what to do when the lies itch? hard work pays off in the end, my...

and this is why i love writing from bars. i think i need to go on tour…   ‘she’s just angry’   cries: he used me he took all the best i was.   she sucks angry on her cigarette the way she sucked angry on his dick. #barflypoet #josephapinto www.josephpinto.com © Copyright Joseph A. Pinto. All Rights Reserved. * 'From My Front Steps,' 'Scotch and Scars' and 'A Distilled Spirit' poetry collections available in paperback and ebook on...

moments are few but here is my one…   ‘avoidance’   mother and father took the tines to my eyes but never time to soothe my tongue and so much of my embryo goes unanswered like why did i grow into who i am and why do i see now what i’ve been blind to before and who the f**k nourished me when most obviously my bloodlines ran thin? i am not yours and clearly i am so wayward how could i ever put forth a signal to be heard? generations ensuing my cells will never know the pliancy of my flesh...

perfectly whole yet not quite together…   ‘monachopsis’   a thousand interlocking pieces yet none hold the smooth to slip me in. a shape with projection i seem to push the mass away. even if we lock would i ever want to conform to your spatial monotony? i hear what you’re saying but it’s falling on deaf ears. you want me here but a path leads from the sash i’ve left open. inch turned to gap. the draft never turned your head to notice so neither will the guilt when i move on. it’s a pretty...

‘death no matter’   these people they think i die to drink no, no friends   i drink to die. #barflypoet #josephapinto www.josephpinto.com © Copyright Joseph A. Pinto. All Rights Reserved. * 'From My Front Steps,' 'Scotch and Scars' and 'A Distilled Spirit' poetry collections available in paperback and ebook on Amazon. * www.etsy.com/shop/JosephPinto --- Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/joseph-pinto3/support

do you stay well after the curtain drops…?   ‘playbill’   fifth act. we find our protagonist once fool now hanged man center stage and all unfolding behind eyes does so unaware of severed cords to facial expression and while heart trembles worrisomely to outcomes beyond measure he’ll suspend expectation and keep forever his surrender   waiting.  'playbill' a poster announcing a theatrical performance  #barflypoet #josephapinto www.josephpinto.com © Copyright Joseph A. Pinto....

where are the fresh voices and deliveries? why is so much presented for the eyes and not crafted from the heart?   ‘beacon’   we live in a world of posers and followers desperate for the free and brave to liberate us from all the shit.  #barflypoet #josephapinto www.josephpinto.com © Copyright Joseph A. Pinto. All Rights Reserved. * 'From My Front Steps,' 'Scotch and Scars' and 'A Distilled Spirit' poetry collections available in paperback and ebook on...

he’s interesting— he’s well-traveled he’s a musician on weekends he’s single but he’s not my type.   i listen to her words and shake my head sadly knowing she’ll find a reason to take him up on a night out.  #barflypoet #josephapinto www.josephpinto.com © Copyright Joseph A. Pinto. All Rights Reserved. * 'From My Front Steps,' 'Scotch and Scars' and 'A Distilled Spirit' poetry collections available in paperback and ebook on Amazon. * www.etsy.com/shop/JosephPinto ---...