Christopher Heise grew up near Philadelphia and received an MLA from the University of Pennsylvania. For the last several years he’s been living and working abroad, where he’s performed as a festival clown, taught English to refugees and edited stock reports. His poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in Panoply, Sybil, Cacti Fur, Aôthen, The Journal of Undiscovered Poets and Down in the Dirt.

Steam

Bangkok, Thailand

The steam from my mind
is streamed in uncanny quarters
as the asphalt erodes outside
my window in this terrific
tropical heat that stymies
the onrushing flood of fresh
cooling blood & renders
the heart stifled, drained
& abandoned by those you thought
loved you but only loved
the look in your eye or the curve
of your shoulder & forgot
you had feelings too, unlike
the chemically clean Thai water
that erupts the stomach
& evaporates in instants
on the pavements & safe spaces
of the streets.

Brave New World

The sleepy cat kills fake
mice & our president pollutes
the world with false division
& destruction: great news (BTW),
everybody’s got a spoon’s
worth of microplastics in
their brain, the degraded
earth doubling its plastic
waste putrescence every few
years. Politics is all; art
& humanity don’t exist
anymore, let alone spiritual
pursuits (what’s that?), with
AI all the rage (taking
orders at Taco Bell)
& everybody happy to replace
humans & marginalize
the mind as long as it
pads their bottom line.
No, our advanced
achievements / internet
existence / social-media
frenziness have defiled,
not uplifted, our fragile
wheezing world; when babies
are weaned on phones,
teens constantly over-
exposed & depressed,
& adults like automatons
encased in cocoons
of self-serving info,
do you really expect
sensitive (unguided) souls
to survive?

Cruise-Ship Companions

Overweight elderly Americans
everywhere, they lumber
& waddle through the buffet
stuffing themselves with bacon,
pizza & pastries, wondering
why their doctor diagnosed
them with Type-1 diabetes.
After breakfast they lurch
& limp up to the outdoor
poolside area to linger
on lounge chairs reading
bestselling dime-store trash
& ordering cocktails under
occluded skies. At night,
all dolled up in eveningwear,
they promenade & stumble
around open-air decks
dancing to the stilted oldies
played by cheesy on-board
bands, happy as pigs
at the slop trough,
later attending second-rate
far-from Broadway shows
& singing along with gusto
to “Country Road”. Meanwhile
I skulk through their ranks
with supercilious eyes, unsteady
as well on the ceaselessly
listing surfaces of the ship,
envious of their easy
companionship & leisure
with one another yet content
to stare out at the limitless
wine-dark sea from my balcony,
awaiting an unknown fate
on land & unaware
I could be exactly like
them someday.

A Very Non-Romantic Ending

You’re made a decision –
it’s over between us
(long-term) & there’s no turning
back … yet we see each
other daily & drink together,
laugh & goof around,
you acting like my mother
& I your father – but it’s just
for now, while I’m here,
while we share the same
geographical locale of this
swarming city, ’cause I’m
a flitting fickle traveler
(aka ‘butterfly man’)
& you need stability
& a ring in your life
& you control your heart
like a rigid trained tiger
(never change your mind
after deciding),
so what can I do?
Accept the inevitable
& enjoy the moment
or perhaps burn it all
to the ground.

Alone Again

All alone
in this Spanish city
so far from home,
I think of you
but you don’t
think of me –
you’re not eager to see
me like I am you
& all I can hear
is the rain dropping
in the cold courtyard
outside, clinging to the past
& unwilling to face
the bright-grey
comfortless day.