| A Deconstructed Child |
Quietly I Move Away |
Poor Bob and Sue |
As Shade Cool Shade |
Hunger for You |
Goodnight Mother Babylon |
The New World |
X-mas |
Naturfaerie |
Look, Seek, Knock |
A little smile |
Torn apart |
Cycles of the weather |
How safe I am in you |
Every moment |
Grendel |
What device controls the soul's departure? |
Open wound |
Adopted |
Watching |
Packer's life |
z-e-l-d-a |
Inter-faith |
To Creon |
Hallo, Moon |
Mustard Gas of Love |
Gennesaret |
Rain like love falling |
Again she whispers, "yet again" |
To Beauty |
Lioness at Loren Au Mer |
Faint Lamps |
The yearning to barbecue |
the Aug |
What the forest says |
Advisement |
Disorder |
She is |
Zaro |
Calling |
Matrimony |
Summer Wind |
Dr. Velin Here |
Punt |
Short&Sweet |
Kristen |
Pro-life |
From the Rodeo |
Like a lemon wedge |
Web published Mary |
Chimney |
Citric Yellow |
I'm told to marvel |
Right Side up |
Teacup: race |
Alé |
Write something lovely... |
Leave it to me |
Uncomfortable pacer |
Breech Birth |
An earnest sky |
Sign on the Road |
Persona Non-Grata |
Penguins |
Don't worry |
God bless |
First |
Mudroom |
Doc Edward |
the park |
my flight |
spill |
Q |
Q-2 |
Sports Accident |
High on life |
Ergonomic |
Blue window view |
in color |
Halle |
The Miracles of Life are Pre-Designed |
Her peaceful atonement |
Butterflies |
Illness |
Care for a drink? |
The Quiet Corner |
The Preacher's Wife |
Mysterious and Elegant |
The Warmth of Soup |
Companionship is not |
I want |
Mystery |
Glass House |
Tea Maker |
Par for the course |
On the strings of my retired guitar |
Disotecheque |
infamous |
Split shift |
Into the Lake |
Hyacinth flower |
Christina's lips |
Wine Press |
The Liason |
Dial Eight |
Remember |
Florid |
Lemons in Tea Lakes |
Dark |
the waiting room |
God in the crib |
Holed up |
Leave |
under the covers |
Pool |
Katelyn |
Don't die |
the temptation of the city |
Professional Games |
Ogg Vorbis |
Rosie Pink |
Naptime |
To Lie |
I could go to bed |
The Mash |
Out yet |
Shower |
Closing Time at the Cantina Veronica |
The strip |
Unpatriotic |
Outline as a doorstep |
You are |
The violence that surrounds you |
Natural Religion |
A Deconstructed Child
a deconstructed child
twice twelve
stacks cans upon a
grocery shelf
he does no more than
he is told
he shuffles produce
that's getting old
like he is---
a spider's web, spun
quietly overhead
he notices it and sighs
instead
such a deconstructed child he is.
Back to the Top.
Quietly I Move Away
A blind man asks
where to sit
on the crowded sideline
of an autumn day.
"Am I all-right?" he said
leaning forward-back-and
forward again
he can feel the rumble of the
passing players
"yes" I nodded, knowing he
would ask his question again
more firmly
"you there??" he demanded as
I quietly backed away.
Back to the Top.
Poor Bob and Sue
Bob and Sue had lost their way
like a boat, astray, adrift
suddenly their routine was gray
the couple was bereft
"Where is my opportunity?" said Bob
"When did my joy desist?"
"and what about our unity
that just no longer exists?"
and justice---what does justice really mean?
a divided marriage, a split-down seam
"And what, pray tell, is Jehovah doing,"
said sweet sue desperately
"He's ignoring us
eating ice cream."
Back to the Top.
As Shade Cool Shade
As shade
cool shade
descends upon the earth
while the pavement is still
warm, and thick, and fault-lined
lovers walk and stare
and none notices that Edgar
is there--
who loves the shade as much
as they
but has no-one to share the day
"with"
notice, Edgar, on the wall
how the shadows dance and play.
Back to the Top.
Hunger for You
Hunger for you
that deep, seductive, overpowering feeling
that all is lost without you
believing life with you is perfect
and without you is miserable
being swept up into your personality
craving you move than anything
not caring if its 2 AM or 2 PM
as long as you feel the same
Back to the Top.
Good-night, Mother Babylon
goodnight, mother babylon
your children have all gone
passed into the cold dark night
in their place nation states arose.
none will live to see the dawn.
goodnight, mother babylon
your pagan lovers have all frozen
and passed into the sands of time
Baal, Set, in the pantheon a dozen
all have passed from gold to lime
goodnight, mother babylon
your riches are no more
your memory is all that's left
and your reputation is "whore".
Back to the Top.
The New World
What joy must fade
as well as hope
when man becomes
an itinerant ghost
it's hard to shed one's
mortal coil
even if it is by force
and enter into the very soil
that was for Adam and Eve
the source.
what purpose lies in fully living
such great things for us to do
for us not-yet-ghosts still remembering
the world is always, only new.
Back to the Top.
X-mas
Two crayons grounded in the hall
crushed by foot
one red-one green
while decorating committees
and mascots do their thing
while ornaments adorn the tree
the fire blazes warm
and the generous spirit fades away.
Back to the Top.
Naturfaerie
if the carriers of time,
(consequently good or bad)
do not renew the day,
then the doll,
pretty Naturfaerie,
new butterfly,
may will the fact into fortunate being
I am that nymph,
a beautiful sprite of the forest
a transformed caterpillar
and in that role, I am truly happy
Though mortal man is ignorant
and makes no effort to understand
I transcend
and through my efforts
all the world is reborn.
Back to the Top.
Look, Seek, Knock
I ask you to look
and yet look beyond
get lost in the crook
of my heart and my arm.
I ask you to seek
for one better suited
if you find one---
you've wrongly computed.
I ask you to knock
me over with love
and if I resist
give me a shove.
Look, seek, knock, hummingbird
believe every syllable, each phrase, and each word.
Back to the Top.
A Little Smile
A little smile
is all I need
to please me
you make me whole
you make me happy
Oh, be still
feel each gentle moment
be not afraid
A new start
such a downpour of inspiration
such unparalleled rapture
My head spins
my heart races
thoughts of you...
Back to the Top.
Torn apart
Rough winds
tear at me from
left and right
pushing at my
tender core
I am eroded
shattered
torn apart
cast down upon a cluttered floor
Life ends
no mourning left, just night
I feel such pain, such loss,
such gore
Mine is, without doubt,
a broken heart
nothing less, and certainly
nothing more.
Back to the Top.
Cycles of the weather
Chill me, wind
blanket me, snow
soak me, rain
bake me, sun
pound me, hail
melt me, love.
Back to the Top.
How safe I am in you
They made me a prisoner
They made me a prisoner
you fastened to me with the
longings of love
They worried me with
guilt and fear
you strengthened my resolve.
Oh, that God would look upon
my life for one full moment
that He would see what
all my opposition sees:
how safe I am in you.
Back to the Top.
Every moment
Every moment
is an insomniac moment
Every drop
is laden with caffeine and cream
Every sound is a headache
a car horn
a stutter
Every life has a handicapped moment
too painful to watch
too horrifying to dream.
Back to the Top.
Grendel
Grendel
Mascot
idol
wolf and woman
found framework
goddess grendel
ancient angry
eyes of fire
stalking, ever stalking prey
Back to the Top.
What device controls the soul's departure?
In earlier times a vast machine
which some preceding god created
began to churn and loop
eternally inflamed
(that is the fantasy of living things
strong and full continuous transmigration)
Before the motor
starts again
before the god primes the pump
it mumbles in an ancient voice
it speaks the temper of an anxious truth
which the whole universe
trembles at
"One container is just as good as another."
Back to the Top.
Open wound
Open wound
flow and go
middle of red canyon
elvis' true home
rent not applicable
move-in date not negotiable
no pets allowed
Back to the Top.
Adopted
inadequate
meeting among
old friends
like conversion from
the dollar to yen
something is always
lost in the translation
a shy, inadvertent glance
a knowing smile of
lost romance
and then she's gone again
an apparition of a girl
I loved---or needed---or both
she made me feel adopted
in the time we spent
and now I can't even find
that emotion
oh well.
Back to the Top.
Watching
Centre of attention
focus of the blinkless
and-disturbingly
tranquil eyes of God.
Back to the Top.
Packer's life
Sunstained paper
covers the walls
of a brownstone on 54th
hey-hey man, didya hear the news?
they crucified the Jets on the cross of free agency
I went looking for America
and all I found was a 4-12 record...
never have I been satisfied with
the unexamined life
so let's look
one bedroom apartment
ruined like too-soon exposed
film
abused and forsaken
packing meat from twelve to twelve
and this is what i come home to
a striped couch with four
gaping holes
like a harpooned whale
it cries out--
and I cry out
"I'm tired"
it bleeds
and I bleed too
I cry out, and it does
too
"we're tired"
damn the smiles of the well-to-do
damn the Jets
and everything else just good enough
to be out of my reach.
Back to the Top.
z-e-l-d-a
Zelda's lust for life
passion for smiling
sharing, laughing
whispering in the
underneath hours
beyond the covers:
Z-E-L-D-A reminds
her mother
each letter a building block
cemented by silliness
We are both seekers
we are both sometimes-finders
she is Pooh
embodiment of perfectibility
companion without measure
she is my dearest friend,
a cookie,
sweet, and contrary to popular opinion
just plain good for you.
Back to the Top.
Inter-faith
Patchwork chanting
outside a mosque
or temple
which, I can't recall
songs in hebrew, or arabic
I couldn't translate
prayers rising to the Most Holy God
pleasing the Creator
and you know---
if I lied----
and I said I remembered
it was a group of faithful
Jews or faithful Muslims singing
I wouldn't be wrong.
Back to the Top.
To Creon
Write Creon they will
read it Oedipus and
thus turn
power
into helplessness.
Back to the Top.
Hallo, Moon
Hallo, Moon,
it's me again
Joseph Christoph Marin
can you believe how long it's been?
I walked with you at my right shoulder
and you were there the night
I told her
that seeing her was purely sin.
Hallo, moon,
this is my prayer
that every time I see you there
your bright wide eyes will smile
down on me
and move the tide of generosity
When my hands refuse to work
and when my ears refuse to perk
in your presence I want to spend
your humble servant, Joseph Marin'.
Back to the Top.
Mustard Gas of Love
All you've got to do
is dial
each number
catch your breath
and pretend you've
got yourself together
She picks up and
instantly she is
in the same boat you are---
the actress emerges
(unless you've got no chance
and then cold honest is the
soup de jour)
You are a soldier
in the trenches
bobbing and weaving
wear your gas mask
as the air becomes thick
with the mustard gas of love.
Back to the Top.
Gennesaret
Our lives were blissful
silence
our surroundings
perfect and pure
but from us tranquility has
passed
we've slipped from
Gennesaret
Cast out among the wild things
always searching
never sleeping
the heart aches
life's love blinking...
without Eden how long
can we endure?
Half-bent reeds cloud our peace
tears fall from our eyes
not forceful
but certainly not unconstrained
we lament and wail
that our golden age
has expired.
who can deliver us from slavery?
we followed the rules
we did our best
but none of this made
a whit of difference
we are still lost.
So I call you close
and we explore our current state
sitting and sighing
dashing ourselves against the rocks
but we should admit it
the cursed truth
we never deserved
Gennesaret.
Back to the Top.
Rain like love falling
Rain like love falling
flowing
like a shower
that dews the
tri-county landscape.
Wind whispering
like sweet kisses
that melt the hand and
melt the heart.
Sun like the invitingness
of friendly arms
light and flame
swirling pain
the pureness of emotion
the essence of pleasant
living.
Stars like eyes twinkling
staring into the heights beyond
reminding us that our
humility is our shame
let us take our chance, O angel
and enjoy the whisper wind kisses
and chocolate covered
hearts.
Back to the Top.
Again she whispers, yet again
Again she whispers, yet again
her soft hands flowing
me within her, and she within me
this mad, fiery gaze we
share
our spirits never closer than
they are right now.
Again she whispers, yet again
her words echo in the silence
her begging for me
and i for her
wild, unbridled
not seeking relief
Again she whispers, yet again
never let go
never end again
her need for me,
and mine for her
increases
expands
and yet, yet, increases again.
Back to the Top.
To Beauty
In her eyes the summer of beauty
a honeyed, tender sea
transparent to her quiet ways
in her eyes are solemn things.
In her lips the spring of grace
flowered, sweet, mystic
pressed to portray a subtle, coy
crafty way
in her lips are solemn things.
In her cheeks the broadest autumn
crisp, friendly, pleasing
waiting for a caressing hand
in her cheeks are solemn things.
In her heart is lost December
a winter chill that creeps and peaks
uninviting, unexciting, troubled
in her heart I am no more.
Back to the Top.
Lioness at Loren Au Mer
lioness pride
hunts and kills
and each lion eats
even the scavenger partakes
in the feast.
Oh bison
if not for your luck
you'd be the meal for a thousand hungry mouths
how perfect
the sun sinks down
on a coffee shop in Loren
and the hostess in full gallop
drips cream in every
mug
and each pleased patron wonders
how life could go on without her
Oh great lady of Loren Au Mer
with auburn cheeks
and gray-tide hair
to sin in biography is the sin of omission
for me to simply forget to mention
the chilled-piano which slim fingers play
the old green labels that read "Cabernet"
the gamblers
which Madame allows if only for their fashion
like coq coq vins to a carnivore's distraction.
To sin with her---
lioness changed
the woman weary but in prime condition
is the rough-tongue sin
of full submission
Back to the Top.
Faint Lamps
Two headlights might be cops---or a drunk----
or an angel carrying two faint lamps
I pull over----parking
waiting for them to pass
I could drive a million years
and end up in the middle of
pudding---that's a nice way of saying it
I'm speeding, happily speeding
my tires spinning out of control
no damn bogeyman is going to catch me
and oh, my, oh
what's the message on the radio
that the headlights that are swerving back behind me
are you trying to catch up to me.
Back to the Top.
The Yearning to Barbecue
how i yearn to barbecue with you
imagine it, sweetie....
you, me, cooked mammal flesh
Imagine the white picket fence in our yard
well, the gray picket fence that you keep reminding me to paint
ah, but you're the one with the skilled hands, aren't you, hummingbird?
shouldn't you be in charge of that stuff? I have one worry though.....
no, not the children......
Charlie.
Yes, the vietcong.
Although I love communists, I'm not "in love" with them
If we barbecue, we'll feel obligated to invite him over.
I don't have enough money to feed a whole clandestine army.
And what if we want to go to the waterpark afterwards??
I'm not riding in the back seat while that asshole charlie drives.
I want to barbecue with you, my love
but only if Charlie RSVPS.
Back to the Top.
What the forest says
Smooth
delicious
essential friend
absorb the garden pedestrian language:
each quiet leaf
each bending ear
of a forest speaks
and speaks again to me
they utter without hardly an effort
"love her
and all will be right in the world."
Back to the Top.
Advisement
Drink too soon our love
take it in fast
never cry
the sting is temporary
the bliss is inexplicable.
Back to the Top.
Disorder
a school-appointed Psychologist
swallows the fat green coffee blush
and leans across her davenport
"he's brilliant pick, Coach
that boy will dazzle," she says
"an animal for the defense." his riposte
"but he has social problems I tell you
social problems communicating
find him some co-ed
and that'll keep his head straight."
Back to the Top.
the Aug
have i made it to metro Atlanta
or is this a slave-state
pathetically, incomprehensibly
slow?
though and though
beautiful
economical
the people are friendlier than
sweeter than
the tea they drink
and all the peach-hopes they cling to
that the love/dignity in a stranger's face
is more than a flash flood of courtesy
(that passes without the Doppler radar noticing)
that this is how far they've made it
and that i've made it
and it is more than it needs to be:
Augusta.
Back to the Top.
She is
She is cellular
microbiologically sexual
a fleck of something that sticks---
and grows and multiplies
until it has evolved into
a handbag full of broke-down expectations
and odds-and-ends complaints
I am reminded by my mother
to never touch a lady's purse
easily you could get lost within.
She
sophisticated
a wrestler
willing to cooperate, lichen-like
willing to graft herself to me
intimately.
She
cellular-life-like
needy, divisible, sexual
microbiologically.
Back to the Top.
Zaro
Zaro, my brother
was a teacher to me
my mother was Sarah
his mother was Spring
still, Zaro my brother, was family.
Zaro fought fires
every day of his life
and he lived with a woman
who wasn't his wife
His marrow, my marrow
his blood is my blood
and his lover is the woman I love.
Back to the Top.
Calling
the call
I wanted, obsessed over
pick up
---just dial tone
please
I argue
with the
cold plastic cross
send me, if it is your will
send me, I whisper into the receiver
punching keys that haven't ever worked
I think the phone is broke
Pick up, do something
to reassure me, to set me right
so I know I really need this change of life
that now is the time...
God, why can't either you or I keep appointments?
tick tock...
time is money...
tick tock...
and money is what makes the
go 'round.
Back to the Top.
Matrimony
Peppersprayed marriage
I'll work on it
but not today
procrastination
got us this far
She is blind
and i am dumb
she had a lot of body
I never got my nerve
and now, divorced,
love was less than
words.
Back to the Top.
Summer Wind
Summer wind blow
and chill the new night
like a glass of sweet port
for me to imbibe.
I consume you
and outview each breath
the wise stars above
foreshadow your death.
Lonely perhaps but
never I fret
for the summer wind blows
and repays my debts.
Back to the Top.
Dr. Velin Here
How are you doing?
is Kelly there?
no? why?
bring her---no, no
bring her here
and I counsel her
what? no---
not your business.
Tell her
she's in hot water
no, not that kind
the "she'll never have children"
kind of trouble
the "she's barren as a....."
I told you, this is Dr. Velin
her OB
look, damnit
put your mummy on the phone
argh!
never mind!
I'll call back.
*click*
Back to the Top.
Punt
A defensive minded coach is she
master of silent trickery
she blitzed when I was unprepared
and left me limping,
running scared.
I told her,
"Look, this is my plea:
you settle down and marry me,
we'll stay together and perhaps
our mutual love will grow and last."
She said,
"I'm single, back in the hunt."
that killed my drive---
I had to punt.
Back to the Top.
Short&Sweet
We see
in those people
we don't like
little pieces
of ourselves.
Back to the Top.
Kristen
Kristen
at the party
trying to be "cool"
half naked in the neighbor's pool
Mr. Jones would never approve.
and we're too drunk
to move from the edge
so we sit there,
sickly watching from that ledge
and imagine that
we were popular enough to see
her bare back (and breasts)
legitimately.
Back to the Top.
Pro-life
Rape sex
by papal decree
produces children just like you and me.
Midwife told my Dearest
“Take this, darlin,
don't worry,
its like birth control, but
doesn't work as purely“;
“On Sunday must I confess”
mournfully the midwife said
“yes”
Back to the Top.
From the Rodeo
Rugged red canopy clowns
unshaved bull-riders every one
at a clown-convention
sharing tips of the trade
Wearing huge cowboy hats
and the face paint of a
truly lonely life
they pour out of the convention hall
into buffet lines
that tell a story just by their
choice of fare.
Calloused hands move
to cup potatoes
and dip a pool of gravy so deep
you could drowned in it
they chatter in line, but not aimlessly
and amazingly, being among them,
what they say is true,
"I can't tell non-clowns apart---
they all look alike to me"
Back to the Top.
Like a lemon wedge
Lemon wedge in my water
half floating---
half suspended by the ice underneath.
Totally useful, both the rind and the meat.
A flavor that outweighs
but doesn't eliminate
the impurities among the cubes
and you
utilitarian through and through
you put a new spin on everything
with limitless potential
you make a difference in every sip
but all I get to do is watch you float
in my glass.
Back to the Top.
Web published Mary
Web published porn
keeps Mary busy
stop and go life
clothes on, then off, then coitus
rinse/repeat
What else could the director/husband
have up his sleeve?
“Lean, bend, smile,
be sleek
look fierce, now submissive,
now alluring yet meek”
Mary, who sold herself
at thirteen and promised
it would never happen again
“Swear to God”
is now being downloaded by
some perverted sod
The web exposes Mary during
all stages of undress
this is what she aspired to be doing
(acting, more or less).
Back to the Top.
Chimney
Chimney pours out
smoke like
Christ emptied
Himself
fireplace logs burn
like hell burns
the Devil and his angels
God is the flu
between the two
moderating both
the living and dead.
Back to the Top.
Citric Yellow
Citric yellow soda
mixed with bacardi
add twist of lime
and a sophomore in
her prime.
Woozy
is the drink-culture
binged out on
recipes for
head trauma
and transient
Iloveyous
certain psychotropic
drugs bring.
Citric yellow
suicide laced
throat burning
tub-gin
makes strangers lovers
and enemies “friends”
Back to the Top.
I'm told to marvel
I'm told to marvel
at a seven year old
that can carry a pitcher
twice his
bodyweight.
I'm told how
it must burden him
to carry the linens of
an entire village,
town, or state.
At noon, in Chicago,
my paper cut distracts me
the world stops
and I curse my fate.
Back to the Top.
Right Side up
See the oak leaf,
Mr. fish? it drapes each
of its corners, spread eagle
on top of your pond.
or is that the bottom of
the pond to you?
Orientation is a personal thing,
I think, Mr. Fish. “Left“; to you may be “Right”
to me.
Do you comprehend, my little
conversation-mate,
our lives on the ground
how hard they are?
Does that shadow of the
oak leaf disturb you
or are you disturbed by
greater issues?
I think weight loss,
do you?
I think homicide,
do you?
I think the “up” I know
is illusory, temporary,
and one fine day my Creator
will grab the edges of my pond
and shake things right side up.
Back to the Top.
Teacup: race
And race is a teacup
we drink from
and humanity is the manufacturer
of each unique
fragile jealous cup
each equally good
to drink from.
And the fire of hate
and mistrust
boils the tea
till it bubbles over and
burns our commonalities
And hope,
well, I haven't dreamed up
an analogy for hope yet
so hope will have to stand
on its own two legs.
Back to the Top.
Alé
Alé has
formless
arms
with an ambiguous
opposable thumb
on each hand
Alé
like a water balloon
filled to capacity
oh my...
Alé
still mad that I became
and she could not
chases after me
through
almost-three boroughs
before the silly putty of
her knees gives way
Alé
formless
cruel
she could never scoop me up
never catch me
like a wayward toy car
she gave me, instead,
just enough rope to hang myself with.
Back to the Top.
Write something lovely...
Write something lovely
consistent, deep, beautiful
about her gestures and
her body language.
Put on paper everything she does
everything she is
the way she talks
and how she lives.
Write something lovely
that will exceed
all expectation
and “she” will take on
a life of its own.
Back to the Top.
Leave it to me
Leave it to me
and the edges smooth out
every difficult day diffuses
into a positively restful night
because I made things smooth.
People interview for jobs
but I never did
I just sat here long enough
until I was part of the bench
I called home---
I helped each burdened person
that sat down on the bench, yet
who will smooth things out for me?
Back to the Top.
Uncomfortable pacer
Uncomfortable pacer
yes, she's the pacing type
sweet, over-make up'd
flowerly ripe
the ovum of
young men's unwholesome
delight
you better pay
but she isn't top-dollar
she's rugged
a tom-boy
she knows how to holler
a princess of slums
and sex on the floors
yet far and away better
than all other whores.
Back to the Top.
Breech Birth
The walls breathe
and I, floating, swimming
cocooned in the nourishment
that a thousand generations have shared
there is light
and feet first, here I go
breech birth
Back to the Top.
An earnest sky
How earnest the sky
that draped 'round your ears
while we skipped stones from Boston to Maine
and the water
that lapped at our sandals
and broke at nigh
ankle high
how paranoid were those waves
I blanketed you
and our bodies fit well
with ice-gloss clouds
that hung overhead without peer
How earnest the sky
that knew our hopes, our lives,
and our names.
Back to the Top.
Sign on the Road
The dentist told me not to kiss you so firmly
he said your bridgework was fragile still
why do I feel like a brand new dog
forbidden to wag his tail?
I read a sign in spraypaint on an overpass
on the way to pick you up
it said, "Don't worry, son, I'm on my way
to Dallas
sit tight until the morning comes."
I didn't know the meaning, tapping on the dashboard
waiting for the light to turn green
thinking of firm kisses that I need to give you
from your nose to feet and everywhere in between.
I got to the office where you've been waiting for an hour
and the spray paint message print made sense
I raced to be with you with all my earthly power
you sat tight till I came rolling in.
The dentist gave his warning, and I told him to shove it
I'd missed you too deeply for too long
and we kissed a million kisses and hugged till
security pried us from the office grounds.
Back to the Top.
Persona Non-Grata
in-house
of a stranger
persona non grata
i collect myself
in among their fragile
moral turpitude
which moments before
i had the pleasure of sharing
like that summer dance
that we bury in recesses of our minds
(well, not too deeply)
i collect myself
in the headlights of who i was
conservative
spoilsport
and in the vestige of this flagrant
dalliance into wickedness
and i sneak
out the back.
Back to the Top.
Penguins
penguins in limos
pick up brides for the night
some wearing blue, most wearing white
they pin a corsage and act debonair
but the gentlemanliness concludes there.
penguins in tuxes
with blue colored brides
too young to shave
too reckless to drive
they line up for pictures
they wolf down the punch
whose secret ingredient is given a touch.
they cry like hyenas
and loosen their pants
and their brides say, "don't worry
wait till after the dance."
penguins in hospitals
their offspring alive
prom photos sit sadly
wondering how the new couple will thrive.
and marriage seems scary
for a new family so young
but they still feel blessed with their
daughter or son.
Back to the Top.
Don't worry
circling you like
an encampment of angels, singing your praises
kissing you sweetly, purely, unpretentiously
for as long as my lungs allow
and collapsing like potatoes in a clump on the floor
with you still snuggled safely in my arms
don't worry, don't fear
every moment you're lonely I'm right here
breakups aren't cheery
they make you question it all
but I promise you've had your last one
you've had your last fall
Circumstances are what
a person is stuck in
they're not what we make them out to be
although we're not together
the circumstance is simply you and me
Back to the Top.
God bless
"God bless you too." America said
and I said, "Um, what?"
America replied, "I've been watching you
and I'm wishing you good luck."
"that's very nice." I told the rocks
the ocean, wind, and the sky
and all the little ants that looked at me
as they passed by
although America is a bit naive
it's still a pretty decent guy.
Back to the Top.
First
she's what you wanted
but you were first
take her instead
why are you being so terse?
you don't understand
I think I do perfectly
I'm almost at my end
then let's spend it gracefully
but she's younger
that matters?
but she's thinner!
do I care?
when you call in the middle of the night, she'll be there
Every moment is yours.
Don't say that please
and yours are mine too
you're just infatuated with me
why do you want someone so cursed?
I love you all the more
because you were first.
Back to the Top.
Mudroom
If I could compare you
to any room in the house
it would be the mudroom.
We come inside after a hard day
playing in the new fallen
sliding down the hill
in an intertube (or two, I can't recall)
we walk through the door
stomping our boots and
shaking our coats
to get off leftover snow
we throw our boots
down the basement stairs
just like our mother told us not to
and we shuffle into the kitchen
knowing we're soaking our socks wet
in the puddles we just made
up, into the kitchen
where the warmth of the house hits
our senses
If I could compare you
to any room in the house
it would have to be the mudroom
you are that first awe-inspired inkling
that I'm home.
Back to the Top.
Doc Edward
edward
doctor edward
there's the man of the hour
purefaced edward
servant of mankind,
eh old chum? old buddy?
no fat paycheck in your stocking
just
wait one gosh darn min---
you callous husband-killing-butcher
malpractice insurance, edward
I hope you have it
my lawyer is going to
eat you alive!
Back to the Top.
the park
the park
squeaks messages to me
from the slide and from the swing
children playing merrily
the park
next to post industrial waste
accommodates every race
every sex and every creed
every plant and every tree
the sky is colored ocean blue
we look at it, me and my crew
and the cloud shapes rolling by
it's good
in an appreciative sense
to throw stones and sharpen sticks
to play soldiers in the park
right before it gets to dark
the bench is my true home
my refuge and great fort
made of iron steel and chrome
the park rumbles and it sings
Morse code of catastrophe
of adulthood and invading families
who make the park less than free
for my crew, the other kids
and me.
Back to the Top.
my flight
the stewardess (yes, stewardess, she isn't “attending” anything)
with the high pitched voice
is threatening me
I'm not sure if her demands
or the turbulence
are making me air sick
but I do know we're cruising at 30k feet
and my stomach is back circa 25
She whines no cell-nosmoke-no goosing
and the pilot dips the plane suddenly
and my vermouth spills and swirls
like blue toilet water
all over my brief case
touchdown there's that brief moment
where the tires, and heaven, and the bits
of pretzel out of meal
it mixes into one horrible scene.
Back to the Top.
spill
I know i will spill
this juice
drop this cup
because I'm very 19
gangly and awkward
and fuzzy unnaturally
I struggle frantically
to produce a mythos for myself
to build up experience
subside the hormonally-handicapped
side of my personality
I know the juice will spill
right down her dress
no matter what I do---
that will be my reputation.
Back to the Top.
Q
let's "q", silly girl
up against the
black-blue
of subway shadows
let's scalp some tickets to the last supper
let's swallow the whole world
and let the whole world
swallow us---
let's be illogical
profane
and handsome.
Back to the Top.
Q-2
Let's cue, funeral director
up against the casket
blue black in the candle light
let's scalp some
"redskins" or "braves”
or whatever angry word
the world wants to call us
let's cue, funeral director
don't mind the deceased.
Back to the Top.
Sports Accident
ankle
bone shards
free floating
misplaced
eight hundred drachma
says Dr. Spock
eight hundred drachma to fix
no pay, no fix
geez, this is a bloody mess
sure you don't want me to,
what's the American expression
“put you down”
no, let me feel my mistake,
my vulcan friend
here's eight, plus five more
if you don't anesthetize
okay, you're the bossman
let's operate
sure you're not sadist,
right?
Back to the Top.
High on life
Barrett the night watchman
whose hair is fine like silt
is notifying my next of kin
i'm drugged from stern to hilt.
I'm down on life in general
but downers do work that way
I can already hear the rumor mill
gawking at this grand touche'
Barrett sits, one leg crossed
watching me get sick
wanting me to just get lost
so he can take a hit.
How wretched my balance!
I can't tell where I am
oh how I love this challenge
of dying for one more milligram.
I'm sorry, old barrett
for squawking like this
I sound like a parrot
let's share the next hit.
My great aunt comes in
her hand on my ear
the whole world starts spinning
"Damnit, don't spill my beer!"
Back to the Top.
Ergonomic
I've noticed that at 4 A.M.
you blend
into ergonomic positions
your curves designed
for access
your tones chosen for aesthetics
the externals for poets
the internals for medics
and your mind
whether you know it or not
void of all the daily headaches
I've noticed I love you at 4 A.M.
and I'm tempted to wake you,
just to see you fall asleep again.
Back to the Top.
Blue window view
blue window view
sea sky and me
pufferfish clouds float
ominously
sail boat sinks
on the furthest horizon
must be a little divine
downsizing
blue window keeps
me sitting at bay
as the angry old clouds
pass over my way
the tumbler-rain god
must be out tonight
looking for rain
like love at first sight
the boat carcass lay
and I can see where
it passed away.
the dark blue view
my window permits
is illumined by stars
each one on my list.
I named them with care
I sit at my window and rock in my chair.
Back to the Top.
in color
in color
you grin too well in
photographs
and consume the foreground
with your high-volume
shy play
and I stuff you
in my pocket
I want the instant out of sight
so I can't miss you
so your simple
white dress
and dyed purple hair
and your cravings for
public humiliation
are
concealed.
You coax me
egg me on
just by being framed
against a Victorian house
with pink petal
feet
you unfold
in my favorite picture of you
the rays of adolescence
thawing
from your brown-tan skin
like an Indian statue
of an immodest woman
coming into her own
you smile too nice for instant photos
you are snapped in color
and it makes my desire for you
b&w.
Back to the Top.
Halle
halle broad
in hopeful spring
echoes in the
willow trees
she breaks hearts
she bends knees
halle tearful
nicely
strange she
doesn't call or write
her colour is mocha-cream dipped in night
halle-broadly
attractive
we make fun
as an audience
we make fun
but its all in fun
I promise,
we agree with you,
darlin'
we love you like
America loves the Cowboys
you symbolize us
and we see our multi-culturalism
in you
still, and still
you are tearful
soft
appealing
halle broad and beautiful
never sarah plain and tall.
Back to the Top.
The Miracles of Life are Pre-Designed
The miracles of life are pre-designed
it’s all monotony
it’s all stale
it’s all vanity
but life's miracles are pre-designed.
I lie, awake or dreaming
and spin a web
within, around, and through
the familiar formulation
of a well-worn day:
get up, get to work, get dinner
denouement
start again.
Oh, but life's miracles---
the things that interrupt the wheel of my existence
and the horrors of the cold and lonely
that are illuminated by
the best of things:
the thought of you.
You are the miracle I plan for
every day.
Back to the Top.
Her peaceful atonement
Fianna maria I knew
as a child
Hemo hamia the salt
of the earth
Wandering thief with eyes
like a river
Merry martyr who waits
for her time.
Fianna maria I knew
as a maiden
Dutch doors wide open
beckon her return
Old recommendations
found to her comfort
Brief echo in time
reminds her tonight.
Fianna maria I knew
as an elder
Hemo hamia the salt
of the earth
Willing receiver of the
winged angels' affections
Utterly graceful she prepares
for her end.
Back to the Top.
Butterflies
Spring time brings them
with gentleness from above, with life and love
the little things tiptoe through
they stop and sit a while
enjoying the comfort of my garden
fluttering their wings at breeze and blow
they stay a bit too long
into the autumn month
when I am awkward and uncomfortable
relaxing in the fading sun
and burying themselves deep
into my nervous stomach.
Back to the Top.
Illness
The perpetual cold
my sweet malaise
it haunts my sleep
and all my days
This perpetual cold
the lukewarm shake
my fever’s blaze
too much to take
The tepid look
my dark eyes glaze
I feel so old in
so many ways
Force me from this
evil place
improve the color in my face
clear me please
and make me whole
deliver me from
the perpetual cold
Back to the Top.
Care for a drink?
If I was more wise in the earlier days
I could have foreseen
the mistake I made
Tempted was I, when I was down
to invite you into my heart's
sacred ground.
Yet temptation, I found
is like vinegar;
its appearance is clear, crystal, and pure
but its result is always
bitter, bland
I sipped from my glass as
I asked you again
to make an exception
I pursued you
shamelessly perhaps
and bade you to
discard your fears and your traps.
You were meek in love
not enthralled with my promises
Oh well.
Next time I won't be so brash
"Care for a drink?"
I'll just simply ask.
If she says "Yes" then we can share
and our friends can know us
as the vinegar pair.
Back to the Top.
The Quiet Corner
Sitting in a quiet corner
reading, thinking, introspecting
feeling like a graveside mourner
on a tragedy reflecting
Toss away depressing book
I lay hunched down to get some sleep
meditating on how long it took
to start sowing what I reap.
Drifting into rest or other
I have such chaotic dreams
ghastly thoughts of dying lovers
and similar disturbing scenes.
Troubled and eventually waking
I’m uncertain just what to believe
am I reality forsaking?
Is it worth it to just leave?
Yet my conscience still is bubbling
and I can’t take the leap
although I find life so troubling
the cliff, I fear, is far too steep.
Leaving this corner silent
I walk down this, the crowded street
fearing things that make me violent
searching for an ounce of peace.
Back to the Top.
The Preacher’s Wife
"The world can be quite unkind,"
said the fragile preacher’s wife
"that is why I seem to find
its best to travel with a knife
"If I am walking down the road
and a criminal I happen to meet
I have a reason to be bold
my knife is here for him to greet."
"I know the saying “be not afraid”
and I know of God’s divine affection
but seeing the mess of earth we made
I still need more protection!
Back to the Top.
Mysterious and Elegant
Mysterious and elegant
you oft induce a smile
you make me feel strong and gallant
you have amazing style
Your generosity is matched
with your soft and gentle ways
and within your soul is patched
a love that lasts always.
My promise is this to you
my devotion is forever
My care is precious, perfect, pure
and will be broken never.
And so I say this to close
(to my bride from her groom)
Our love is like a red red rose
Eternally in bloom.
Back to the Top.
The Warmth of Soup
I feel sometimes as though I was
a small, frail child
blowing on his soup
As if the little wisps of air
I push
would take down the temperature
even a little
And then I plunge my spoon to the
bottom
to get at the chicken noodles
or the beef and vegetables
I’m burned-and awestruck-
that the force of my breath
would be ineffective against
a stupid bowl of soup.
Sometimes at the quiet points
of average days
when reflecting on the obstacles
that friendship brings
I am a small, frail child
blowing on his soup
hoping that the pain in reaching
what I seek
will only take a few wisps of air
from two parted lips.
Back to the Top.
Companionship is not
Companionship is not
the most important thing in the world to me
but you provide it for me
and then some.
Kindness is not
the most important thing in the world to me
but you are completely
kind to me.
Love is not
the foundation of everything in my universe
but I love you
oddly, yes, from a distance
like a person that sits in a window and sees
something of total grace and beauty
and smiles at it-----
in that way I love you
I love you in a way that makes
companionship pale by comparison
and kindness fail to measure up
in a way that makes the angels envy
and the devil mournful
I love you in a way that stops my heart
every time we meet again
that makes my breath quiver
and my hands tremble.
I love you for your impact on me.
human words cannot describe
the intensity of my affection
Back to the Top.
I want
I don't ever know what I want
there are always options
possibilities
decisions
My mind is never made-up
I don't know what I need
I'm faced with troubles
problems
concerns
and everything I know seems
to be unhelpful
that is how life was until i met you
I was a stumbling drunk
I had lost my way----well---I never knew it to begin with
now I want you
my heart's desire is your love
your touch
your warmth
my concerns, problems, cares
melt away when seeing you
you are the light at the end of a tunnel
and I have no desire to turn back
the other direction.
Back to the Top.
Mystery
Once I didn't know your voice
Once I didn't know your words
Once I didn't know your face
but that doesn't really matter----
I loved you still.
Once I wasn't in your arms
waiting to fall fast asleep
Once we lived far apart
alone I counted sheep
but you were with me
every movement, every emotion
every droplet of your humanity
was mixed in mine
even though we were apart
I loved you still.
Back to the Top.
Glass House
Do you know what it means to be coy?
to tempt and tease in such a perfect way
to perk up my emotions
to make me alive
You feel, sometimes, like you live in a glass house
uncomfortable with who sees in
and what you see out
I want to be the only one for you, Venus.....the only pair of eyes on the
other side of
the glass wall
the only person to be tempted by you
teased by you
and I want to tease you a little as well, shy girl.
Back to the Top.
Tea Maker
nothing good will come of this
the red, the blue, the yellow light
brash and blinking in the night
the horrid horns blaring
and not one of them is caring
the noise must desist
I was quite lost in dreams
until the new technology
rudely advanced, awakened me
throwing frenzied panic
crazed my mood into manic
night pierced by my screams
no, nothing good will come of this
while i hearken for the older days
the browner browns and grayer grays
without the pornographic violence
back to peaceful, quiet silence
that is what I miss.
and so I make a pot of tea
because its obvious I cannot sleep
and think of what it means to me
not to grind each damned leaf
by hand
instead I have a new machine
that grinds each leaf
boils it down
it makes my tea
all on command
although this rabid genie
shakes me, breaks me
with so much horrifying sound
it comes and creeps
interrupts my sleep
its sickeningly nice
to have technology.
Back to the Top.
Par for the course
Green am I
with christmas tree eyes
seriously
questioningly
child-like
confusion
Where was I
in the harder times
when the world was
struggling
stumbling
pained?
Green am I
unevolved
unseen
I fade into the
scenery
while you peel life's
scars away
How can I
do all that others
expect of me
when experience
is so estranged
Green am I
a product of the
earth, the sky, my mind
I have no basis for
recollection
I am green because I cannot
handle any of this
I am just a child
who is loved
and spoiled
in the worst possible way
Back to the Top.
On the strings of my retired guitar
On the strings of my retired guitar
refined moss has begun to grow
and whether or not it's still play-able
I really do not know.
And my fingers were ragged
from playing for her
red from each cut in my skin
and I asked her for a rest between duets
and she said, "please
let's play it again."
So we played and it awed the audience
who sat at our feet the whole night
and our guitars roared melodies as we played
and they growled when the guitars were silent.
Needing a respite so each finger could mend
I finally, gasping, paused my guitar
my blood trickling down it's fine wooden frame
and I realized that she,
not I,
was the star.
So I buried it deep
the base and the strings
and lay down face first in the shade
now my guitar is part of the land
and her memory is part of the landscape.
Back to the Top.
Disotecheque
in the arms of some
sycophant bouncer
at a discotecheque
in the red light district
I get hysteric
he shoves me through the frame
of a too-narrow door
into the marrow of
Amsterdam's four
main cross-streets
the Gihon, Pison,
Tigris and Euphrates
and i, in a slump, dream a
little dream.
Back to the Top.
infamous
in (seductively) famous
the children throw eggs at her
from the Delacroix
overpass
-she is in protective custody
like a dozen years before
Emilia is a ward of the state
infamy, privilege
while her gowns
show the stains of motor oil
snip-snip on the brake lines
She is wooden from the whispers
of step-sister speak
rocking in a corner, she counts sheep
(or do the little sheep count she?)
Now she's a news report
heiress' adopted daughter kills
and the allegations get worse from there
disappointment
impenetrable head case
Emilia
no longer loves the human race
and her public defendant laughs
when she says she's innocent
innocent of a rat-gnawed life, perhaps
but you're guilty, according to the facts.
Back to the Top.
Split shift
the interred lies peaceful
by the dilapidated altar
in the church at St Cecil's
illumined by antiquated stain glass
and the groom stands, smiling brighter
than any groom I can recall
has in the past
I ask the funeral director/priest how much we saved
doing the funeral and the wedding, both inside
and he said, sadly, looking at the scene
always a bridesmaid,
never a bride.
Back to the Top.
Into the Lake
yes, my feet are grass-stained too
from walking in the meadow with you
and my white shirt is wrinkled from
the ball we rolled it into
as we ran haphazard
into Lake Ontario
in frigid water, you leaned over
and said in a throaty voice
my love, I must confide
its not the lake that made me moist.
Back to the Top.
Hyacinth flower
Hyacinth flower
on the reservation list
we have a table open
but I let her wait like this
her smile keeps young men happy
her glance makes old men free
and to let her sit would be deprivation for me
her charms are like whale-bellows
attracting species of all kinds
Hyacinth waits, but she doesn't mind
Spending moments with her, there's nothing amiss
thank God that loveliness never rests.
Back to the Top.
Christina's lips
Christina
had disjointed
lips oh most
of the time
with a tongue
that almost
(well there was that one time)
never lied
and hard, aggressive white teeth
that i could only feel with the sensitive sections
of my ragged old tongue
and breathe as she did
from her nose through her lungs
Christina
myocardial palpitations
and such
being with her was that sort of rush
like the squirrels in our yard that took
watch over the saps
that leaked from conjoined trees
during the first interlude of our lives.
Christina with her
half perfect Dick Cheney smile
who treated my words like
holy writ
and treated my soul like food
how did I find her
did I inherit
someone so inexorably good?
Back to the Top.
Wine Press
Two oval eyes scan for me
as I return from Mass
her feet are weary as they always are
and she returns to her tasks
her strength is slowly fleeting
its not that I don't love her
its that love means never leaving
and I maintain my fast
She presses grapes with me in mind
and labors for my good
my farm house falls in disrepair
and I'm slow to replace old wood
finally, weeping in the field
she melts into the taller grass
shedding small red drips behind
she abandons me at last.
Back to the Top.
The Liason
she arched her eyebrows toward
my holster and the twinkling brass handle-plates
as I re-dressed myself
she asked if I was brave
She sat in a stiffened hotel chair
reckoning what I did with the two guns and I said,
(her warm flesh pressed against mine not twenty minutes ago)
and I said,
that is not for you to know, my dear
don't ever, ever, ever assume.
an elevated train roared by not ten feet from
where her bare feet were
and her curly mess of amber hair
followed her everywhere'd she'd go
she crept up behind me while I shaved
and darted wildly as if to misbehave, in bra and underwear
her hands slicked down my belt
and she asked for one more go
I finished up shaving, and walking out I said
sorry, can't, no.
Back to the Top.
Dial Eight
Ann wonders why dating can’t be like this
cotton candy in her white-knuckled fist
with guys she’s shy, she’s often froze
now she’s screaming at the dug out
her glasses slip down to the tip of her nose
and she pushes them back into place
she’s cheering her team on from the mid of the stands
as they continue the pennant race
Ann feels chills at each crowd roar
at the mounting pressure on each pitch
she trembles as the umpire yells
baseball is her fix
Finally, endorphins rushing, Babe Ruth dials eight
and Ann rushes home to
masturbate.
Back to the Top.
Remember
Do you remember when you pushed my swing?
yes, I remember
Do you remember our old dog King?
whose bark had squeaky timbre?
Do you recall that violent fall
that made me bleed a little river?
yes, I remember
Does your memory hold a time of pure gold
before the first frost of December?
my memory's true, of my life's work with you.....
yes, of course, I remember
Back to the Top.
Florid
florid stepway into her private study
I keep my lamplight lit
and photos of her earlier adolescence
are filed in A thru S
She watches me with a calendar look
like a breeze went up her dress
she admires me, my suit, my pants
and I love her for her florid print.
Back to the Top.
Lemons in Tea Lakes
when about to mate
a lemon sheds it’s peel
and exposes it’s inner core
which is tainted by the
chamomile
the lemon spreads it’s fingers
covering the tank
I’m not lying to you Son,
this is no idle prank.
they whisper, God, they whisper
deadly warnings to their prey
they kill their bastard brothers, limes,
whose color makes them frail
when lemons swim in great tea lakes
all creation is afraid
we fear their deadly poison
---we call it lemonade
I lost a pint of blood, dear Son
back in ‘72
I skipped into their breeding ground
and they began to chew.
Their little puckered mouths have
little puckered teeth
they eat until they have their fill
on the Rarely Sugared Reef.
I lost a foot and arm, my Boy,
back in ‘72
while swimming in the Chamomile
I’m thankful for every day I’ve got
that I have got with you.
Back to the Top.
Dark
Every day we spend together
as if our bodies were
an etch-a-sketch drawing
superbly intricate,
carefully constructed
and possibly erased in one
frail September moment.
Back to the Top.
the waiting room
the waiting room
five sheets to the wind
she really is pregnant
finally this time
she really is.
Back to the Top.
God in the crib
in the crib
she had calico eyes
that made me wonder
if she could truly be human
and not a deity
incarnated in my very house
and as she smiled
the first of a thousand smiles
and as she cried
oh, but occasionally
I was gradually convinced
she is.
Back to the Top.
Holed up
concealed under the bed
from the bill collectors
drinking apricot wine
and entropy
living in an El Paso ranch home
built for three
they thump in the door
and the burgundy of my cheeks
overfills the slick pool
of my shame
not a penny is left to my name.
Shivering (since they cut off the heat)
the desert sun no longer shining
I deplete my reserves of apricot wine
and now I can’t manage smiling.
the door bursts open
no reason to fear, the win is still mine
they cannot take a body to jail
and a body is all they can find.
Back to the Top.
Leave
Leave, I said
if only for a blink
so I can start to miss you
Die, I demand
if only for a gasp
so I can revive and
make you complete
when is life fiction? when is it true?
when loves makes you sink
then rise from the dead
you advance, now I retreat
learning the contours of your face
from the very first to the very last
as if its something I had planned.
Back to the Top.
under the covers
chasing the dragon
in a parking lot
with people who have
plastic bags for feet
who crumble and scatter
at the sight of blue
its cliche'd but we're dirty
and they insist I prove my loyalty
we shoot up together
they share, and I share
in the middle of an ink blot night
i'm very very undercover.
Back to the Top.
Pool
we play pool in a little cafe
I scratch once and again
and you say
don't worry baby
it happens to everybody
we order shots
and play
I sink the eight ball every time
and we drink ourselves into the wooden floors
the bartender criticizing
we scratch too often
but hey, don't worry baby
we're not here to win
we're just here to play the game.
Back to the Top.
Katelyn
Katelyn
the marigold
an azalea in peak-est condition
pupa that breaks its prison
to reveal
to reveal
what is contained
transformed into something other worldly
and all-consuming
a jester...a factory of loveliness
a whore to the world of Barnes and Noble
my everything throughout
a marigold shining in a meadow of
lesser flowers
an azalea in bloom
a pupa that just doesn't know
when to quit emerging.
everything is pale by comparison.
Back to the Top.
Don’t die
saline drip in an IV race
a train wreck
with scares that define
(rather than being defined)
by your face
you were hit over and over
by injustice
by the quaint old man with gray whiskers
and a penchant for booze
reconstructive surgery this vast
should be undertaken by road crews
saline drip-drip
your eyes rolling back into your head
the whiskered man whispering
it was all a mistake
don't be dead....
the saline bubbles behind your lids
drip-drip from within
the oxygen tent collapsing
as white-coated doctors inspect you
and notify your next of kin.
Back to the Top.
the temptation of the city
at night, the chrysalis of
the city's temptation
is unfurled
in the sticky humidity of a cab ride
the a/c off
your body lies
sweating and flapping in the blast furnace breeze
the driver pretending not to watch
we draw each other in
at night, the murders start
and the suicides commence
and human life of all kinds emerge
to take their place in the drug-consumed city
the superficially normal people asleep in their beds
hoping that the chaos will be over with dawn
but it isn't, is it?
our lips together in the back of a speeding cab
on a highway I can't even remember
in a city that looks
amazingly like Bosnia
the crime begins afresh
and the wings of temptation take
first flight.
Back to the Top.
Professional Games
Oftenly we watch the cars
on Washington
from the top floor of
"X" industries
(where X can be equal to any positive number)
and we play silly elevator games.
Oftenly we play tag among
the cubicles in storm cell eight
which is a subsidiary of
business X
we mock each other's
financial sense
as we rust in three piece suits
you're such a beamer
you're such a prince
you whip around in a sky scraper
directionless, directionless.
Back to the Top.
Ogg Vorbis
Encoding in the quiet of a campus room
listening to Ogg Vorbis tunes
on his computer
punching the keys in melody
playing an earlier version of Doom
Soren is drinking coffee
feeling neuter
driving every ounce of RAM
in furried reflection
leave it to a phone ring
to wake up the soul of this hybrid
man-machine
depending on a phone call
to shut down a 'fiftysix k' connection
Back to the Top.
Rosie Pink
We were rosie pink
for half a century
and now that's gone
we were flawless in our foreign policy
just don't mention Vietnam.
For immigrants and enemies alike
we were that city on a hill
model 50's kids on bikes
each inspired by George Will.
We were rosie pink
and our symbols were steely gray
the two collided just six short
of Citizenship Day.
Suddenly all our mea culpa moments
was incarnated in the pain
of one vast angry cobra
who wanted to pump venom into our veins.
And no matter how great the loss of life
what should our reaction be?
our nation grieved as New York grieved
they have our sympathy.
But now we're bullies
we hunt them down like dogs
we detain the nationals they've sent
we condemn their foreign gods
our color now is wounded
and we feel like victims all
the order is unmitigated violence
America has answered that call.
Back to the Top.
Naptime
It's naptime
and every little head has a pillow
the story you read was effective
now eyes are closed
and every solitary soul is sleeping.
I know--
the green rug they lie on isn't grass
though we were fooled into thinking that
in years past
we know the school room is just a jungle facimilie
but that doesn't matter because you're here with
me.
So beyond your paper littered desk
it's naptime
and every pillow has a head
every weeping willow has found its rest.
Back to the Top.
To Lie
I asked her to lie
and she said she would not
I asked her to pray
she said "not today"
I asked her to bring
a raincoat of all things
but she said she likes a downpour when it rains
I wanted her hand but she didn't want mine
she snuck out when the sun ceased to shine
I asked her to return, she said she was stuck
I said, Let's make love
she only knew how to fuck
She asked me to forget
I know she did the same
I can't remember her sins
she can't remember my name.
Back to the Top.
i could go to bed
i could go to bed, really
if its all the same to you
morning breaks too early since
we set the clocks ahead this spring
don’t eat pretzels next to me
the crumbs all tumble on my side
and itch me while i sleep
i could go to bed tonight
and slumber till your angel’s wings
brush against my face all warm
and sticky
and sweet.
Back to the Top.
The mash
the wet, pulpy mash of recycle-gray paper that
lines the sidewalks when it rains real hard
has been on my mind for at least forty eight hours
and he told me I’m a visual thinker.
my hands are still wrinkled from the soaking
of that downpour I sat in
recalling the teacher that spoke eloquently
in reverberations of my mind’s eye
of medieval kings and queens
and I swallowed it
anxious for more
anxious for much more
the braveness of warriors, the plight of serfs
the wretchedness of poverty, the grandeur of Rome
the first great love triangle: Arthur, and
Lancelot, and Guinevere
and he asked me how I could love the streets
when my IQ pirouettes between one hundred and
three hundred
I said to him
consider the dirtiness, the gun fights
the mash in the gutters
can I enjoy this Dark Age, until, at least the
next bubonic plague?
Back to the Top.
out yet
aren’t you out yet?
of the closet? no. I’m afraid the public will be uncomfortable with
my heterosexuality.
Back to the Top.
Shower
she said go faster
in the shower
for a moment
pressed up against the curtain
and I did
she came
and couldn’t stop
I panicked
and I rushed her
to the living room
and gave her chest compressions
(or was that just a little
heavy petting?)
and she curled up
like a ball
with a blanket
and a pillow
and slept off
the orgasm
and dreamed I was holding
her while she slept
when she woke up
she was blurry all over
and she found
I was holding her
all the night long.
Back to the Top.
Closing time at the Cantina Veronica
Bruno is the bouncer
who is of mixed descent
and stands like an ogre over
the front door.
He is at least two-point-one metres
and winnows the people that
wish to enter the
most exclusive night club
and dance floor.
He has two prominent tattoos,
one that is chinese script for
"pain"
and one of the fence that kept
him caged
on a trumped-up coke charge.
Veronica, the owner, turns out
the lights
the customers stream out
Bruno comes inside.
She is forty-six kilograms
and she looks to be every ounce of it
small, charming
her hand on the bannister
leading upstairs
and her eyes
looking for his eyes.
He is warm
as he begins putting chairs on top of
tables
and locks the doors
his voice lifting itself
so she can hear.
She watches him
trembling
counting the money that
they took in that night.
He sits
in the last upright chair
and she sits in his lap.
For hours, they are together
at the closing time they have
laughing about the customer's
parti pris
and engage in an unusually long
English kiss.
Back to the Top.
The Strip
Our conversation was alive
with a sea of emoticons
punctuated with the photographs
I took of you in bed
you are an et cetera
a tyrannical levithan
made of pond ripples
in the wrinkled fabric
of a retro dress
we drink the sand because
our throats are dry
and alchol's expensive
but the earth is easy
and cheap.
I hope to get you inebreated
you drank in the cheapness
of the fake yellow smiley face
I read out loud the text which
denotes our mutual admiration
that I saved
still, oh still, I'm only concerned
how to get you to strip
down to nothing.
Back to the Top.
Unpatriotic
the sweetness of Georgia, Nineteen Forty One
and I blinked it away to see
young soldiers lined up two by two
in front of the corner drugstore.
we picked red ripe tomatoes
talked about my bum arm
and syphilis
and love of kraut and beer
laughing unpatriotically at
anti-semetic jokes and
women's baseball leagues
we pitched model Zero fighters in the yard
and screamed
"have mercy!" and "Dear God!"
and pretended to speak Japanese
making false engine sputtering noises before
squashing ripe tomatoes in the dusty road in front of
Friedrich's farmhouse.
we were second generation immigrants
children in the shade of political events
and neither the draft, nor movie violence
nor our hatred of America seemed to phase us.
Back to the Top.
Outline as a Doorstep
she drew a chalk outline
of herself on the pavement
while her soon-to-be ex
tossed her clothes out the door
and into the gutter
She lamented
but only until the taxi came to pick her up.
he stood in the worst thunderstorm
that Wisconsin had ever seen
and counted the breaks in the cloudcover
he was afraid that the
end of the world had come
and there was no one to say goodbye to
they, together, had built this nest
cozy enough for two
and far too small for three
he traces out the chalk lines with both feet
and regrets forcing her to leave.
Back to the Top.
You are
you are a reference to a story
that I read in second grade
of a dragon in a valley that ate, and ate, and ate
until the whole world was consumed
from your dinner plate.
you are a fragment of a lyric
in my graduation song
and every where I go, I find,
I'm whistling you along
you are the tattoo on my palm
I itch at every day
you are the hippopotomus that always
waddles cold and gray
you are the mythic phoenix of which
I like to dream
you are the chocolate frosting on a
double dip ice cream.
you are each pleasant thing that follows right behind
and every memory I have, I have with you in mind.
Back to the Top.
The violence that surrounds you
Maria said "make the most
of the violence that surrounds you"
and I swirled the oil paint
blue into a skirt for her
on the canvas
as I sketched her, all Madonna-like
disjointed
pained
bored by the eigth invocation
of a nervous priest
I smear red paint suddenly
all over the figure's face
as if she had a bloody nose from
being smacked around by some
low-life prick of a man
that smiles sadistically every time she weeps
and grins masochistically
every time I sell a nude painting of her
bruised and twisted face
and that image overpowers all the other
canvas colors
I am overwhelmed with the desire to
junk this one, and start over.
Back to the Top.
Nature's religion
she is a holy scooner on the
surface of the impossible
yet worthy of worship
her cadre of daytime workers and nighttime elves
gathering around her and then seperating
clothed and unclothed
not speaking but chanting
of remarkable things
and beautiful occurences
of which no man has yet seen
but which make nature's religion
possible.
Back to the Top.
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
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