Motherfucker (A Poem)

Motherfuckers
don’t know
they’re motherfuckers
that’s why
they’re motherfuckers

A few
are lucky enough
to look in the mirror
at their motherfuckin’ face
and go my god
what have I motherfuckin’ done?
I’ve been a motherfucker
this whole time

but most
go on bein’ motherfuckers

Some stay small
bein’ motherfuckers in customer service lines
a fistful of expired coupons for another store

Some rise to the heights of motherfuckery
and become president of the motherfuckers
MFOTUS

There are motherfuckers in Brazil
There are motherfuckers in the states
There are motherfuckers in France eating pasteurized cheese

There are Yanomami motherfuckers
There are Inuit motherfuckers
There are motherfuckers in lost tribes in the Kalahari
they send out for water and that come back with a handful
of rocks someone told them they were magical
and could produce water and the elders the women
the children the camels all go

This motherfucker

You see
a motherfucker isn’t a swear word

It’s a state of mind

It sets off fireworks at 3 AM in December

It doesn’t wipe the stationary bike at the gym down
when it’s done with it

It blames Mexicans instead of banks

It cages children

It steals from charity

It’s in the White House

eatin’ a cheeseburger
in a tanning bed

like a little bitch

© 2019 Lee Kitzis

Haiku for my Daughter

Go the fuck to sleep
Please wake up I miss you so
Go the fuck to sleep

© 2017 Lee Kitzis

A Promise to My Daughter in the Wake of a Trump Presidency

We trudge through the snow
me in my pea coat
you in your pink snow suit
two months too big

I show you the garden
the celery is dying
and I promise you it will begin anew

as for everything else
I do not know

You are just grasping the fall colors
of a country
which is beautiful
and ill and tired

I can only explain the leaves

nothing else
just the colors
that will begin anew

I’ve failed you

We’ve failed you

but I will be the hammer for you

I will be the tornado

like a fighter past his prime

until we take our last walk

and look at the celery
and look at the leaves

and we will have our silence
as loud as thunder
as we breathe the air
and continue on

© 2016 Lee Kitzis

New Book!

Sheeeeee's Heeeeeerrreee!

The new book of poetry from Lee Kitzis! That's me!

No more readin' poems on the computer for you! You're reading poems on paper! Like the professor of a fancy college! Or a college drop-out with a book! Whichever!

Coming Soon...

For Mingus the Cat

We were united in our mutual weirdness

co-conspirators
writing partners

If you were a person
you’d be an installation artist
who wore nothing but Hawaiian shirts
and drank Night Train
out of a bowler cap

You saw the street
You saw the good life

You cared nothing for either
and took it to your death rattle

I would’ve traded a city block for you

but that’s not how life works

so
I do the next best thing
and leave the door to the attic open
when I write

like Jews
leave the front door open
for Elijah

in the hopes that you’ll wander up
and perch your dirty asshole on the railing
like old times

and watch me chug black coffee

and write through dirty glasses

swearing at stanza after stanza

missing you

I know it’s weird
I know it makes no sense

but humans never do

like the street
like the good life

like an empty attic
and some silly lines

© 2016 Lee Kitzis

Everything Smells Like Breast Milk (A Poem on Fatherhood)

My wife’s kisses smell like breast milk

The baby’s head smells like breast milk

The plants smell like breast milk

The cats smell like breast milk

The mailman smells like breast milk

The sidewalk and the stoplights and the streets and the birds

The reverend and the rabbi and the bums and the stoners
and the fresh air at the beach

Titty milk
Titty milk
Titty milk

My receipt for creamer smells like breast milk

The cop writing a ticket smells like breast milk

The cage fighter smells like breast milk

My typewriter smells like breast milk

This poem smells like breast milk

Titty milk
Titty milk
Titty milk

12 AM
2 AM
5 AM

I’ll shout it from the top of a mountain

down below to the U.P.

Where the woman I love pumps away

and waits for me

© 2016 Lee Kitzis