Monday, November 06, 2017

prophetic wishes

when i was a young feminist
coming up out of the jim crow south
where working moms made pin money
and bussing was the racism of the day
stitched all together into a justification quilt
for the way things are, i wanted language
changed. mankind was the word for human kinds
all pronouns meaning we were he's and his
was the badge of ownership. i recognised
but only vaguely the valuelessness of ironing
yet mama did it after the dishes when she
got home from her shift at sears

i wanted to iron out gender bias, changing he to her
sometimes, sub in the fem when the lines got fuzzy
but now i've got reality that exceeds those dim dreams.
gender fluidity in the flesh requires a new lexicon
zhers and zhes mix with hers and hes but i'm still not sure
what cis stands for or what other non hetero norm
nicknames are. even tranny seems to have taken
a sideswipe at meaning, with -vestites and -sexuals
claiming the label for theirs, with drastically
differing defining characteristics and i'm not sure
if it's a badge or honor or an insult.

i don't think that's what most of us meant
when we said a woman without a man is like a fish
without a bicycle. i am attracted to men,but i don't
like them. they're selfish and self centered
don't have a lot of emotional maturity
and think with and about  their penises way too often
to be trusted with something like a nuclear bomb.

and the game women were forced to play
still are yeah
a li'l tna will get ya what you're looking for
you know, the valiant whore role
well it's just so limiting.
the old hollywood saw goes
she can't act her way out of a paper bag
but she can suck the chrome offa tailpipe==
and we all knew what kind of tail was getting piped....
i think that's why i don"t think big lipped women
can act, because they don't have to...

i mean we all just wanted a chance to do
something besides wash dishes, hair and children
something other than sexetary or go girl
something bigger than sending them off to school
and cocktails with the bridge club at three
something more than nurse or teacher,
more like md or phd, yea we wanted initials
other than mrs john x, losing even first
names in the mirror of wives,we wanted out
of those  limited lives,

but you know what. it's good to be woke n stuff
but the pc police don't got it right either,
tolerance is not the objective
acceptance is. yeah he's a racist pig
but it's  free country so he can spout a dirty joke
without gettin beat up please.
yeah, he's a womanizer with no respect
but consent, well, let's just say it's only
a formality anyway. mckinnon once famously said
all sex is rape because what she means is that
chattle can't say no, they can only say, at last,
yes. gave way, out the gate.

when i was young feminist
fucking anyway i please was the vanguard
of the liberation.. we were allowed to own
sexuality, unlike what i see today where it's
stigmatized. we were allowed to get drunk
and go home with that guy and not made to feel
violated the next morning. the walk of shame
was an 80's thing, after aids came to bed
with america. then sex had to be controlled again.
and anyway, we were never not sluts. so i'm down
with the slut walks, i'm down with the pink punk
hair and tongue studs, the moans of swipeing left
or right, the chance to pick up for the night
babylon had sex temples that all must serve
and the fuits of coitus were given to the temple.
i mean, the baptists could use some of that
kind of recruitment fodder.

amyway. it's i helped dream it
and it became a demi nightmare, wearing
a teddy and combats to bed.

Monday, October 16, 2017

four steps back

you don't really understand
what you just did to me
i don't quite know how to say this
how to do this again.
get your way. your way.
i don't care if it's a dog or what
i ca'nt even. can't.
no i didn't want the dog either
but so what so what
i can deal for 6 months. or three.
whatever what ever.
i'm speechless. i;m over it.
i have a good convo and you fuck it
but it based on a lie. based on wishful thinking.
however, if the miracle occurs
no miracles occurs. no . none.
what the fuckin ever.
i . speechless. incohate.
it's about your wishes. cave. cave again.

Saturday, October 14, 2017


k so yeh, ya, changing the atmosphere
of what it means to be a man's world
the mighty fall one by one,  except
the one that needs to most. give it time sweetie
no one stays the same.

since hollywood began, probably all the way back
to the globe and before, a comfy couch in a private
room, and boys will be boys. k, well yeh.
it look like the girls don't wanna play no more.

what they're trying to say, these dinos, is that
they thought the sexual revolution meant
they could open the door because ladies
don't have to be ladies no more so what's a
li'l kiss, a li'l grope or some poke ity poke

they've said it. you heard it. they have permission.
when you're rich and famous they let you
do anything. when i was 12
i babysat for three kids  cleaned their damn
dishes from the night before so i could get
them lunch. my mom useta drive me
ten miles to their house in the morning
in the summer before they moved into
our neighborhood. one day the dad came
home early and asked me to stay while he
took a shower. then he sent his daughter
out to where i was waiting for the watergate
hearings to just be the fuck over so i can
watch gilligan's island reruns and said daddy
wants you to go to the bedroom so innocently
i go into the darkened master bedroom
thinking i should get paid today and he's laying
face down on the bed with a towel wrapped
around his hips and says hey will you grab that baby
lotion there and rub some on my legs he was
very specific it should be his legs,  opening them
between  his legs specifically, and i did it i rubbed
lotion between his legs and i remember seeing
the very edge of his balls exposed thinking  this
just doesn't seem right i don't know
what i said or how i left the house i kind of have
a fleeting image of a quick walk three blocks home
and telling mom i was not going to babysit for them
anymore and i don't think i said why and i can't
ask her, she's dead

Wednesday, October 11, 2017


i have a question for the lawmakers: What ARE your thoughts ? To what kind of god go your prayers?

earth's final season could air soon.
the button holder's profile fits 
wealthy man in his seventh decade
loves to gamble, no arrests, no mental issues
but takes a small cocktail of drugs daily.
the differences are glaring, vegas used
semi automatic conversions fired from
a high rise window. mr flippant has
bombers. mr calm before the storm
has access to nukes. what kills me most
is how smug and offhand he delivers threats.
what will kill most of us is when he delivers on them.

yes but I just saw a a squirrel skip across 3 lanes of traffic and survive

dear sister
there are times I think you're the one
that got out easy, dying like
you did there at 17.
in love with Neil Young
in love with the burn
hell yeah.o my.
today you would be one step closer to 60.
that magical age when 
men kill themselves in the Great Northwest.
I think it is better 
you don't know why
the parts of you I remember
are painful, flailing arms
knotted words. i know
we must have had
something in common 
besides parents.maybe
we had good times?
I'm so far away 
from who we were
then,I can't remember.
our little sister never talks
about you
but she leaves fake
flowers on yours and Mom's 
double plot in Memorial Hills
every holiday. tell mom
i'm sorry i missed 
her birthday again, august
is such a hot month.

Monday, September 25, 2017

soft landing

way before she knew about it
way before the last water covered
the ashes of her life way before that
time began and ended on a sour note.
a girl with a curl in her forehead.

( begin again

after fucking as they cuddle
image droplets gather, ladled
with dusty sunset neons
 beckoning from sleep's warm grip.
so many good poems burgeoing
beg to be realised
 but his arms

and she promised herself
if she ever saw
the light again

right on cue, a cough releases them.
he turns over,murmurs i love you.
she grabs the keyboard gets hit
with a blank white page
and a vague desire to recreate diamonds
from miniature white christmas lights
and the insides of chandeliers.


it's past time, she whispered
for the format to change.
how many times into the ptsd corral
will you go. it's like that song 
you all wished you wrote
untl you realised it comes with some
pretty potent gunslinging.


then we got stuck with the underlying clauses
the everything-bytes-today 
the insurannce that didn't
and suddenly being a doctor or being a tech
didn't matter, it was clear who owned who.


so the right keys got punched
and i found myself in this position
nude, on the floor wiping up water
from a broken glass knocked over
by you left there by me FUCK you scream
and this place is such a mess i gotta go
because somehow if i cleaned it up
it's like it didn't happen like the red candle
i put on the speaker  didn't run in gore
patterns down the white
 wall it was  mounted on, christmas
dinner with the family, in our new house
kids all red velvet shiny, dog in her house
white tile spotless but that was so long
ago and you are a different man, taller
with blue eyes, a different
woman threw plates at you, turned bitter
in the soil of love some different kinda
crazy makes you crave flight
but say go. say go and mean nothing is worth
the staying and if you don't mean
leaving me, still it would be leaving me.
and it feels like that time
under the stars with the ocean murmuring
don't ever leave me. and i didn't.
we can call it an exorcism or karma
 how quickly
nothing brought you back.

Saturday, September 23, 2017

sin eater

i draw a blank white sheet
over the corpse
final garrison on the river styx.
where it flows only the dead know
and that's you now my friend
here is a grain of salt for each sin
venal and deadly that was yours.
a loaf of bread to wash it down. and ale!
let us have ale! listen i know you
 wont hang a new taste on my tongue
 but a shilling will fill me for a week
till the next one gets called home
you're on your way to mystery
and im just fanning the flames you left behind.

Saturday, September 16, 2017


 one of two Wisconsin girls accused of stabbing a classmate and friend to please a fictional character named Slenderman was not responsible for her actions during the attack because she was mental ill.

they're saying you're a fiction but
i've heard your voice in my room 
when no one's there. some nights
you slip through my eyelids

he's been talking to me a lot lately
tells me he's so hungry and he must be
he's so skinny. slender he likes to say. 

i offer him doritos and popcorn
with extra butter. chicken soup ramen.
.always a no
and i'm so hungry. then he
whistles the answer

souls he says. i eat souls. in fact i want
to eat your brother, your mother 
your dog, cat,  and your
friend coco. but i don't want
your dad's. his is rotten.

and see, how would he know that
unless he's exactly what he claims?
he can teleport. i've seen him do it.
he can read my mind. so i asked him,
 what can i do so you'll let them go
and he says bring me a soul.
and he tells me how. and he tells me who.

it's not you . he knows we're friends. he says
you can be with me and you can feed me
if you do this one little thing 
i'll take care of you you can be like me

and i think he does care i mean he's always
around, ya know like when
 mom and dad aren't and like
he always answers on chat and stuff ad you know
  no one cares if we eat or go to bed even unless it 
interferes with their new lives and really
can you keep a secret becuz i

i think he might 
like me like me 
and i know he likes you
i mean he does want to eat your soul
just think of we all can be together
like for EVER if we just do 
this one little thing...