Typical Survivor of Low Frustration Tolerance Syndrome - 7 Poems / by D.M. Jerman

Diagonal Hopscotch-

My own private Idaho-based hoarder is British. He is filling up a car to the brimming dented rooftop with original pressings. He is a fone call away from an alarm going off.

My own father giggles, states across, into his spitfire of a crummy wheelbarrow, unable to keep his breath from western woodpile dreck catching cold, and the notion that he can’t save a thing that has the ability to save him in return.


The Drinking Business-

Sweet afternoon beer.
No use checking the mail

Bolt for bolt this
Draft is all locked up

Busy rinsing off my


The Widow Friday-

Snow starts just after two.
Merry xmas dance across
Popsicled air.

Blue thunder on a wave of
Threats and promises a cure
For the grey
I promise you
There is
No cure.


Ticking Off All The Challengers-

And the clink-crash of empty bottles
Smashing in the trash.

Left leg on ache with the sound of
A boy who became a man and an
Old one at that dying in Virginia.

Oh what I must look like
A curious wave of "whoo" misplaced.
Growing coffin nails over my face

He is the same and we'll never meet
Except in the dream of excerpts, moments
In bed, not sick, no smirking.


Groan, Pennsylvania-

Lake effect on a slow start that
Cheats the other places...
Everyone always guesses at the change
But the answer is the same before they even ask.

It's there and plain-
Right where I cut my hair.
In the ring I hide behind the bathroom mirror
For someone else to find

Dust in the sweaters I won't wear again. 
Lyrix I still champion to songs sung at Karaoke-never.

Written and ripped up.
Postcards sent and unrecieved.
A poem not quite "right" or "ready."
What I mean is

When I can let the pace of the
Good bass take over the hills
Are alive with the sound of...


Social Insulation-

Insurance will not get you home
Except for the very last time. 

Thank you muchly jukebox
For your prompt reply. You,

Beautiful, simple you adjacent
Warm lights and low ceiling. 

Behind the bar next door, a Roz
Here, a Rose.

Hiding gentle in the slow and low
Beyond uncool dreams of resentments

Turned to regrets and versa vice.
Sometime in this coming personal

Decade, which matches the national
Design, I will confront the undone.

Liberate others within the cleanup.
Enlighten my living crimes to a 

Fresh injustice.
Perpetually amature.
Pissing sorry.



Last chance to take it all and run
Fast for the wet hills that cause callouses 
And euphoria simultaneously.

Brass ring dreams burn when
u catch them, leaving bitescars.
It's worth it for the smudged feeling

Perfectly dressed by electricity,
Possibility, celebrated familial exclusivity,
Wild-eyed perverse magnificent naivety.

Charge, exchange, guess and redeem.

Life is a coupon made of tears and war
Cash it in only for love 
And the gorgeous years.