Saturday, July 30, 2005


the storm creeps all around
this building, tongue tied
and flashing. i begin to feel
outnumbered and i've lost
my atm card. good thing i didn't try
to get cash or maybe it's a good thing
i didn't get that other apt
in the place that made me feel
like a criminal.

just for wanting to rent...

i believe a lease is contract
between the lessor and the lessee
my duty is to pay my rent
and their duty is to serve. why is it
that some apt places act like they're
doing you a favor to live there.
it's a little of both.
i will pay x dollahs
you will maintain the property.

ok, the visits to mp
stark white and tan nish
olde english style sporting
palms. each upstairs has a balcony
each downstairs a back yard. a back
yard. little squares of privacy fence
no one can walk thru your backdoor.
how constricting. even the air
can't stand the pathways. closets
of green.

my daughter wants to live there
cuz itz just a walk away from skool. no way.
we're gonna get a better place.
means sum sacrificing.
no smoking. cigs. that's almost 90 pm
yeah baby i can do that. plus gettin up
in the morning for a while. she should ride
a bike down to the light and cut thru
that ofice park. she should get a job.

she should do a lotta things.
so should i. get up and drive her
wake jacob . i get the living room this time.
sigh. i want a closet. well, its not forever.
i'll just store most things away
keep them in their boxes. all this moving
all this disruption. everyone i know
is looking for a different situation.

i would like to have a place but
this school situation is bringing me down.

and now i'm throwing away even more
well it's betta than burnin it up
chika. give up the smokes. it'll do ya
good. tonite? yah, tonite.

90 dollahs a month. man, i can't do it.
i love to smoke. i love to smoke.

i can do it.
just keep me in weed
the constant tingling
may just just keep me awake.

take a deep breath.
you know what i hate?
stories of human bravery
over trials. well, not really i hate
conquering your demons.
i want to dance wit em.

so my demon is smoke.
but i wanna quit. 90 dineros.
9000000000000000 pesatas.
imagine the oranges you could buy
with that. ok, but can i do it.

heh. let's give it a trial trial.
just for tonite
no smokezzzzzzzzzzz

invite dad to tha dance.
no whining. if i quit smokin
we can live ok. ok?

one pack a week. one cigarette a day?

you think?

oh dear. where is my dj when i need her?

in canada, in a pome.



i hope life is going
better for you than me.

it has to be you know?
i can't bear to think of you
not getting over this.

just so you know i believe
you're right about sava
but that doesn't really mean
anything at all, does it?
as if i had a choice?

i wish you would call
but that only prolongs the pain
you see, i know what it takes
to move on is to move on.
how can you if you cling
to me? and i to you?

i wish you would send me the
money you owe me tho
that would be helpful


i hope the fire damage
doesn't destroy my chance
of moving into this apt.

if it does then i'm fucked
everywhere. why can't you just
pay it off?

oh man. no one to feel sorry for me
but myself. and my son whom i'm not
going to do that to.

i'm packing up your stuff tonite
so i can have a good cry\ cuz
i'm pmsing. isn't it nice not
to have to go thru that again?

i wonder why you don't call
i am not calling you.

it is wrong to call you.
i'm just feeling low.
and that would make us both
feel lower. i think about
you all the time, just
so you know. well, of course
you won't know, how could you?

this is not going to you.
it's going into the ether
for someone to run across
or not and share the pain
or remember how it was with them
when they did this same thing
or feel smug cuz they don't have
to go thru this.

why did love do this?
why did i believe and fall
again? just to have it wrenched
from me. i 'm sure you'll call
when you want to know more
about wether she is pressing charges.

always about you, you know?
n why not, when did i demand it be
about me? it was about us
which became you which became
sigh and why oh goodbye.

have you examined your subtexts yet?
did you figure out that your love
has faded? that really you are
ready for a change?

are u finding solace somewhere?
o ihope so. the sooner i know
it's over the quicker i can take
that tapeworm outta me.

so sick of it

never an ounce
of respect she
gives nothing takes
ev/ery thing
for granted i can tell
this is gonna be a rough year.

o don't put up a wall
what dresser do i get
what fuckin thing do i get
huh? i am going to put up a wall
a retreat i can't live
without a room
of my own
even if i have to build it

o rather maybe i'll just die.
yeah, let me just die now.
this is the worst its been
in my adult life and she me makes want
to kill myself.

save me from this ingratitude

i wish i had you again
to comfort me
but it will never be again
never again.

and that makes me cry
so put that in your eye...

omg. i just can't believe her.

no you do not get the antique dresser
look at the way you treat things
figure it out
you broke the mirror with carelessness
you break everything with your anger
i am not going to be a pushover
just cuz i'm giving you a room.
forget about it. i'm also not
going to clean your bathroom or do
your laundry. fuck you.

you don't know how much i can't wait
till you get out. believe me, if you
were not such a bitch it would be different
but i am doing all this sacrifice
for us to be a family
live in a semi decent place
and all you think about is
yourself. you and your friends have
destroyed enough of my stuff
and i'm not giving you the chance
to keep doing it.

ah justin. what a time we had.
i'm amazed at h ow long
you put up with her.


the spanish rice
papers are 99cents

i miss you.
but you knw what? not
all that much. plus
when you talk about a girl
here and girl there
i k now you'll be fine
you'll fall right back
into that space we lived
with another. hope her neck
fits better.

my pain is almost gone.
my body tried to tell me
with the ache but i weren't
lissenin. listen in

today i'll find my new place
rent a two bedroom and sleep
in the common room. i can keep
it up to my specs. mostly.

i mean, why do i need a bedroom?
there will be scant fucking for me
and if i want it, the man betta have
a place...

i just like to have my own bathroom
honestly, that's why i want a room
if i could tell j to use s's then
i would. but that won't happen.

a gnat circles in the pale
light from the window.
there is a triangle of outside-
bottom right corner, revealed
by the hanging cloth
which serves as curtain. i'll be
so glad to leave this place.

i have never really understood zero
every seven years your body renews its cells
does this time period begin at conception
or 3 months. i mean, cells...i mean
time... imean body.

we talk about abortion
i tell him i have had them
and i've carried kids
i've felt the invasion
and the quickening.

the rose is embued with scent
after it blooms.

he thinks for a moment, eyes shift
to some realm he hadn't considered.

'i would have what,
5 or 6 brothers & sisters?'

hmm, maybe more, the number
is not important. the point is
i learnt my lesson and after
i had you, i made sure i wouldn't have
to make that choice again.

so you were an accident but
i wanted you. you were planned
as in, i'm keep ing this one.

so yes, it is my fault
you came into this world prepare
yourself now
for teen angst.


hey, scar

how comes the battle?
are there dreamlike states where
existence is fine? watching
the novel unfold, ham on the table
cake in the oven? last nite
we watched die mommy die
that was a choice you don't see
everyday, the making of that movie.

transvestite plays twin child singers
all grown and up halved, one talented
and famous one reduced to desperation
who kills the other and takes over her
life. the afterman. jason priestly plays
sex in all its forms except the incestuousness
between daddy and sister mommy and brother
who is gay
by the way
setting is early to mid sixties
period piece nicely done
cop carz n moto cycles
acid trip

i watched it with my 11
year old boy. hmmmm.
is that a good idea?
idunno, i think it confronted
some major issues
that have been goin on around heah.

young lover
controlling dom father
ineffectual feeling brother
controllin bitch sister
semi talented sacrificial mom

better than bang em up video
style megaton blasters they call

when the sex scenes came on
mostly flash pics n innuendo
i told him sex scenes
close yr eyes.

what makes this movie
different from all the other
bs tv shows is the choice
of actress for the mom
a transvestite. not transsexual
you could always see his five
o clock shadow. i didn't look
for the adam's apple i
always forget about that so many necks
buried in flesh. the movie
opens with him lyp synching "why not me"

and if that is not a classic
it must have been. belting show tune//
actress conforming to mommy.

why do i care that demi
lost her n ashton's baby?

its a tragic foreshadowing
me n he were a tragedy
waiting to happen. but
i am not into the tragic aspect.
it was time for him to move on.

will i see him again?
time will tell. prolly.
or not.

listen i told him
i'm not shutting any doors
but you're not ready
to walk thru mine yet.

when they want to cheat it's time
to review the whole contract.

so demi maybe got smart i dunno
or maybe she was never pregnant
tabloids are so bullshit

maybe this will strengthen
what they have maybe they will
try again. she's prolly a pretty good
mom. i feel that about her
but i could be wrong.

it is of course or rather was
a parrallel to my life. on a grander
scale, more money but i imagine
the fears were much the same.
her aging
his adorability

and as in that movie
you can never understand
the attraction until
the young lover admits it--

she's an enchantress
she weaves a spel

and i think well, isn't that what
guenivere did? or all women
for that matter: helen, elizabeth,
demi, myself? we imagine a future
and the players gather around us
the director ship is unconscious
travels in whale song beneath skin

and jenni she is so worthy
of love. hard bitten twice shy
you know? it is good that you
care for her. let her grow
into the woman she wants to be.
poet,artist, mom. keep helping her
find herself. and jenni, jack
keep helping him. forgive him his maleness
he cannot help he was born
as such. they can be
compassionate creatures. justin was
so like him. aching with the burden
of the world.


as if know anything really
i look thru a lens of love
when i'm high. when not
i fear. so , it takes away
my fear. so.

it's time to wake the boy
go find a new house for
this home.

Thursday, July 28, 2005

the graduate

his sister doesn't want
him to call. there is a fight.
he is done with being the boy.
he is such a boy. there is
the problem with the daughter and where
you are going to live. and how.
be careful if you have sex now
someone might snare you with a baby.

i can tell you aren't going to call back.
it's ok. you dn't have to worry
about me. you need to forget me it's true.
if i'm here, then how can you?
but they don't understand i can't do you
like d did me. i f you need comfort
or an ear i;'ll listen. that's what i do.
that's what i'm good for.
that and doin the dishes.

i'm tired tho.
very tired.
they want my evil influence
out of your life. and you live
with them now. you cna't come back.
it's ok. shhhh. it'll be fine.
one fine day.
the smallest breathing space
above a palm triptych
the moon struggles
with words. frogchant
in the early morn, mack
truck rolls by, blues slice
leaks out the open bar door.
silence is a myth. there are always
sounds. the deaf feel
vibrations , frond tangos
with wind. there is one hand

there is one hand
still untouched
but spoken of

this hand spoken for


that muses over the other,
let not thy left hand wither
thy right? prescient
a curse that hovers


i'm not into numbers
i fight them. they rule skies
like veins. fighting them
makes them stronger. i don't know
what to do. flow with it.


when i was twenty i took
a trip to baton rouge with my much
older lover. we humped in the backseat
while our companions endured us.
fitfully asleep on the drive over the I-10
bridge we fell into the water i held
her and told her don't let go
but she did and was swept away.
beside me i whispered to her we were
meant to die together. she did not
believe me. told me it must have been
a vision from a past life. what took
you so long to get here? she
opened her blouse again. i fell
into the present.


later that year the bridge
got swept away
in a hurricane.


when i was forty four
i enjoyed a young love. early
in spring we took a trip to baton
rouge. i picked a rose in the garden
in front of the highest state
capitol building in the south. maybe in
the states. i forget. there was a live
oak with branches held up
by steel ropes embedded in its bark.
my lover climbed the tree. told me his pet name
used to be monkey. the next january he burned
my apartment while i was away.
no one died. i began to think
about gravity
in a whole new way.


we like to smoke
the curling out spirals, spirochets
mimmick our aveoli. the first
time the sun set on us, we spun
these universes together. the bible
says the dark came first. then
there was light. energy mix es
sex on a dance floor. the last barrier
regenerates, in this tiniest exchange of oxygen.

fights over shadows

lightning split a thunder cloud
to the west. strike like multiple
orgasm. to the east the moon
full and rising. happy

lunaversary i say to the man
beside me. blood moon
he replies. we both know some
thing's bound. something must

happen . chaos is irreversable
sez the runes. the ruins-carved
in the last glance we'll ever have.
shackled in metal, our mental gangrene.

lightning tattoo

he didn't want to be like
them he wanted to be like himself
which turns out is more like granddad
than dad. too baad no one's joining me
at the poetry chat room. tonite

at the poetry spoken word thang
not too many showed up. plus my stuff
was way over their head. lol
most of it's over mine. or undre
doesn't make a lot of sense
to the uninitiated. i had to read one
pome twice cuz i read it too fast...

but anyway, the crowd:
craig: mid aged man who can turn out a poem
in minutes. didn't write for years and then the ex
took all that he had saved, from the army, all
those memories of nam and tossed em. good i say.
now you have to write more. reads a piece
that's political, and would only be passable as a song
but it's heartfelt. you know?

then i read something, tarotttt.
he didn't get it, i think.
only vera did, being privy to the dance.
, there were only the two of them...

then vera read kerouac, and i finally saw
what she saw in him with his description
of a bowl of mushroom soup. hunger...

then some more ppl came in
cynthia and jessica. mervin ushered
them in. i am all into names tonite!
remembering them.

fishing cap and grey stubble
hiding scruffy hair. torn jeans
aviator glasses hidden eyes
bitter. cliche rider. i have to be
more observant. first time reading out.
reticent. i could tell you what this man's
life was like, but i couldn't describe him.

wild boy in skool, went in the army. survived.
bout with drugs, the needle. some talent with guitar
he met a woman and married her. they split
bitterly about a year ago. his empty life
faces him. he could write country songs
all day long. who will listen. his apt
haunts him, his kids never call.

jessica: wants a man, want's a bad boy
but there's none here tonite. i knew this
was a bad idea, jesus cynthia what have
you got me into with your poetry
and you didn't bring none to read? it would
be better than listening to this stuff
this is poetry?

cynthia: wants fame. i'm from miami
and the hip hop crowd is big down there.
i wanted to check this out cuz i live near here.

mervin: wants a hip hop crowd. red headed, pale
madonna skin.

man, my writing skillz are gonnnne.
it's like i can't get enough interest in the ppl
to scope out their lives.

the last guy with no name. speaks softly. wears
a do rag. intermitable pome with sparks of insite.
about a crack mom, or rather a series of crack moms
i think. something about 12 seasons by four.
i didn't quite get it. teak skin. ja rule hair.
gold edge teeth givin up the life
cuz he comin off the life
his companion young white woman
supportive. i wonder if this is therapy nite.

i read my gulag pome. apples oranged.
they don't get it.

why should they? vera reads kerouac.
the highlite of the evening.
writes advice as thomas wolfe ,
talking to the young author.
himself at 21. i think of justin.

now, justin thinks it's not over.
but i know it is. i gave him some hope.
ok we can see each other \when you get
your shit together. not good enough?
too bad. i dunno what to tell you boy.
i cant do it any other way.
i love you, but i don't need you.
my feet ache. puffy. the lightning
comes down from the industrial steel sky.
tampa's under the drum , and it's banging
our bones. gotta put the top up on the bug.
it's gonna rain.

Tuesday, July 26, 2005


asta mi amour

let you go. yeah. that's
what i need to do. i don't
dream about you when i sleep
but when i wake i miss
your arms. we were an impossiblity
existing for a moment.
not even that long
in the grand scheme. but im not
concerned with the grand.

what can a man know
of a woman?

and what is it i could hope for
from an rekindling? one day
you'll be like fdostov
and that makes me sad but
it's inevitable. tigers
and their stripes.

dear ju
you know i love you.
have loved you since you
told me how you could love
you didn't know it was
a deception you play
on yourself. i didn't wanna
do it. but you made me.
love you.
now i have to scrape you
from my veins. little
fatty deposits of the things
we had together. laughter
and all that....

i should hold on this time
to the painful stuff. the pissy
stuff. the stuff you ignored
and so led us to this berm.

i love you.
stay away, i'll get
over it. i've done it
before. now i'm ready
to just exist
without that possiblity.
i thought d was my last
but it was you. you used
it up. why then this
burning inside? it's
greed for what i cannot
have. pity. yes
that's what it is.
i need to have a life
without pity for anyone
outside my circle.

that's how they survive.
that's how i'll survive.


the tarot confirms it.
as it always does. it's not
that i think i can interpret
the answers so fully
but if you think you can
ignore them, you are the fool.

what it said was the project
was inspired by the ideal of lovers
but our vanity and inconsideration
the very stages of our life
serve to make it fail.

it keeps coming out the same.
ya know? soooo. i wonder what it would
say if i put some name i didn't know
in there?

there is no name i do not
associate with someone.

yeah, what it sez is
this is futile. what you see
is how it is. wrecklessness
is not the way.

maybe when i read it later
it will make a different sense.
but now, it's pretty implicit
in the cards. it is what it is.
is there a future?

ok it sez no
looka this

The card represents the critical factor for the issue at hand. The Moon: Cyclic transformation covering the mysterious forces of the night. Feminine beauty and the intoxicating vitality of youth. The metamorphosis from beauty to beast and vice versa. Occult forces, sensitivities and intense dreams. Dangerous situations and perilous times

sounds a lot like lyfe, yes?
why don't we avoid that?
i know i want to.

i love you but i let you go.
i don't want to try to make
something of us. it's the wrong
dimension. that i wil miss you
is unavoidable. there is still
some hope in me, but i'm sure
you can help dispell that.
just keep acting as you have
always been. that should do it.

is there anyway to avoid
these plutonian waves is what
i ask i t next.

it tells me patience.
it tells me look at the truth
of the situation
perilous, fey, ultimately
destructive. it tells me
i must be patient. do not
call love into being now.
it is not the time.
if i try it again now
it will fail miserably
like before. look to your
children. yes.


no more protests of love.
we will always have it
in our memory. pick out the worst
and cling to them
or pick out the best
and relive them, with your next lover.
read the tarot. you remember
how it goes?

Sunday, July 24, 2005


His own identity was fading out into a grey impalpable world: the solid world itself, which these dead had one time reared and lived in, was dissolving and dwindling.

'Why would a plant give a shit about Mozart? And even if it did, why should that impress us? I mean, they can eat light. Isn’t that enough?’”
(Wade Davis, One River)

to outlast an inhale

Water like a concrete object that can’t brake

rohonczi proper-a font created from a fifteenth century
apocryphal ms inscribed in an imaginary language by a
romanian monk.

you call me crying i love you
and you break down so i ask you
what you plan to do. i should let you go
i should not tell you that i love you
i should not hold on.

it will make the going harder.

terra pee

everyday i write about it
life or something
like it. how can i still
want this boy who exasperated, used
and rarely learned?

it was the way we combined
in each other's arms. chemistry
on a volatile network.

did i like he found me sexy?
oh yas but i knew that was due
to his hormones. his love.
love is myopic at best.

so i never believed him.
will never believe anyone i'm too
damaged to think of self
in terms of desirability. jesus
helped me with that. i would love
you if your legs looked like
a seabed. implications of the ugly.

i like tawdry. i like graceland.
so he said. which makes me feel like
dolly parton. which said is more
than he deserved. not the second boy
the one who loved me, but the first
the one who loved himself. the last
one i loved, the first one i love.

my daughter can't understand it.
how could i still care about someone
who hit her? well, he didn't beat her up.
and she tried him and me for 20 months
that's a long time to hold
your temper.

i don't care enough to let him
live with me, ever again as long as i
have children with me. look at me
leaving open possibilities like split
grapefruit. as if he won't grow.
as if his love were true and lasting.
well, it is true. just like mine
for him. but it won't last. faded bruises
an all that...

and i think his dad will brainwash him again.
so that he survives in some kinda kafka ish
breach of what he wanted to be vs what dad wanted.

or who knows. i still think of him. still want
to talk to him. no one i knew liked him
or understood where he came from, except me.

i have an ache welling up at the absence.
he did not abandon me. nor i him// the universe
drove us apart. why? perhaps that's
the question i need to the tarot.

perhaps we need this trial by fire.
the seperation. perhaps that's the gist
of why this happened. we need to know
if our love is strong enough to survive
his growth, my decline. i believe i already
know that answer. so does he. and they
are opposed. the muse wanted to use me

before he and i met but i was always
whining about love. so she gave it.
with all its burdens. as if a child.
and rilke, she gave me that too.

which do you want.
is it merely me getting beyond
the physical? i think not. many ppl
thot him unattractive. he cultivated
that. as do i. i want them to see
the real me. as he did. which is why
i felt he was my soulmate. truly?
read that in the present tense.

but he wants to be a star, wants the things
youth craves. this is his beginning
journey. i hope he realizes this. prolly won't.

if he writes me, he must write me first.
i write him daily but he won't see them

perhaps he is to be my muse, the embodiment
of absence. the thing, lost and looking for.

mo pot.


the day wears on
without your arms to count
on at the end
of it. what good
all this suffering then?

you might see me
in a leaftrill. the hills
of pine needles you gather
with his rake. scoop them up,
a hairshirt to wear. let each
prick, unrequited,
remind you of the thousand
between us. little invasions
of cling. let them serve to remind you
this is not the way
to divinity

why am i cain? where are the sons
of abel then?

but away your bible if you can.
i will weave you a new mythology
one where abel is the murderer
as it should be, o killer of beasts
raised only for sacrifice. is that not
the face of this world today?

the paradox is the making!
did we do this ourselves did i do this
to be expelled from the ghost of eden?

we are perversity. that is y
we even exist. we occupy both poles
at the same time. that is the ontological
truth of desire. i desire a clean
house, if a bit disorderly. hands washed
dishes draining. if abel had not been
the sacrifice we would have to worship corn
instead of warfare. dn't you see?

i would rather worship corn!
stalks rising to wind then burst
into frayed silk, seed gathered
in our bosom. a village of living.

that must be the new vision.
but how to make it? with the violence
of the old? this is your demon.
the antichrist would not rebel against
the moneychangers. he would wash
their feet. he would bare his throat.
he would ask to be left alone to grow
as he would.

you sound less divine than enslaved.

we all serve. we are all served

you have all the answers. you always have
to be right.

i do not want to be right. i want
to know if others feel this way.
if so, why can we not navagate along
the stream this way? is it impossible
to have a choice. do we muddle a divinity
by being waterbugs?

i have to think about this.
i don't want to think
about this. why can't i hold love
in my arms again.

it is the streaming, i am the river
it is the current- you, the electron:
interchangeable except in the position
of space when observed. it would not hold//
the half life of radon.

i am the biggest thief

we are all theives.
that is the core of being.
we must forgive our theft.

there is no property.
imagine freedom

Saturday, July 23, 2005

hard timz

i don't know how
you waited thru those moods
but it was a long wait.
i thought we would be until
i died. i wished it but
i was foolish. you had so much
to learn. you have so much
to learn. and all i want to do
is hear your voice.

see your gorjus eyes.

so i wanted you gone. so i wanted
you here. so i wanted. it all comes
crashing down now. ive been needing
this water. i still have a few
roses to feed.

when you were here, exasperating.
when you weren't, i pine.
i will pine. i will howl. let our
whys meet on the moon. in the next life.
in some bastardization of ideal.


i just hugged our big
pillow. there is no more our.
you will have your life
i will have mine. to not see you
again will be a sad thing.
but i'm used to sadness
and death. it rolls thru me
like a roller coaster wave.
i need the ocean. i need
the lack of metaconsciousness.

on lava, most men my age
want to talk about anything but
the meaning of life. huh, i'm
still stuck on that.

it will never be answered. will it?
will it? will any question do?

i see meaning in life. and for the most part
that's enough. i love it when i'm in love.
it's when it begins to go to shit
that life hurts. some of my best poetry
comes from that. so, is poetry
the antithesis of living? for me, it's
an outlet, a thwarting of sensation
(to steal from the best).

this guy wanted to meet me. who cares.
he was 27/ talkin like he knows tantric.
i think it won't work unless you both
have grown into it. either seperately or

the boy i loved sat on the edge of man
hood and pulled me childish. i miss him
now, but he had to go. playing house
is for girls. at least he knows he can
do it. wants to know why the lollipop
doesn't grow again, like in the video game.
i could explain, he would understand
but he wouldn't understand.

to be twenty in this life is the smallest
breathing place. you're an aveoli
that's going to grow silk wings. feel
the nubs. they prickle. push them in.
they hurt. listen . three days before

he was arrested, the runes told him
the tarot told him, the i ching
was positive. do not marry. chaos and fire!
he ignored it. threw his will against it.
snickered and rolled his eyes at it.
why does the pragmatic world disdain romantic
possiblity!? fools! appollonian mind
defies the will of the gods finds himself liverless
on the side of a canyon, buzzard's best friend.

i tried to get him to go
quietly, but he loves the sting of quest
fulfilled. he may
always love me, a lancelot. he will
probably find another, then another but one day
he will find her. it is the way of the scorpion.


i loved
the blonde blue christ
a sacrifice divine,
not mine. followed with anti christ-


i have been on many sides
of love's rubrick cube.
there are perhaps more. the tarot
tells me to high thee to the kronery.

yes no more weaving spels for the young men.
they are not for me. men in fact
are not for me. but i don't want a woman lover.
i want a man who is a woman. not transgender.
let's be specific. i want a man who is as in touch
with his feminine side as dave, as in confident
in his masculine side as justin, as hard working as fred. um
skritch that last one. fuck the hard work.
what does it get you? another day deeper.


i imagined you sat there
with your curly locks hanging
over your right eye, your chest
covered with a coarse pelt
as if you'd just come from a hunt
but it was all you. something sexy
about that boy. yes you are.
believe it. but you know
it's too much for me.
sex is a limited commodity
in old age. desire gives way
to determination. to keep on living
or something...


i'm tired again. i'm trying to stay up
to go get my daughter. you used to do that
for me. one of your many wonderul qualities.
till you began to resent it. it's under
standable, service is tough job.
just ask lancelot.

these letters to you will continue.
i am taking a nap now.
my crippled computer has the effect
of pixelling in grids
all colors and text
that shows against a background
of color.
it's like a photoshop on every photo.

& shorts

an assembly line of glitches.
i cannot
read your song.

the face is irrepresible.
it falls out of the dark,
a kaliadescope of meaning.
fractured but beautiful.
the female
body alive
in yin process.
flowing and seductive.

the iris behind
the curtain.


you don't have
to settle for me
you never have. only
if you think you're good
enough for me.


you must love yourself.
be not deluded, you don't.


you open a slat of the horizontal
blind, tiptoe and peer. let it drop.
the colors of sunset in the west
are not like this, you begin. i open
the blind to watch pale neons
move under a gray bonnet of clouds.
its been raining or it will rain.
thunderheads make a canyon
to the west. the blues and pinks
and purples are much more intense
and not as defined, you continue.
they blend together into one
unnameable color that exits in pointilism
somewhere above the crags and plateaus
across the divide. everywhere, they exist
all places at once and they're swirling
being purple and lavendar, pink, peach yellow green
blue. you stop.
each one dominating for a moment, you
pick it out but it's gone, it never was it
always was and that's when you feel
the secret being whispered to you
it invades you for a moment
soft as a lover's dream
then it's gone
and in the sky above
is the form of a lone bird made of clouds.

Wednesday, July 20, 2005

temper nicowhimper

so let's see. u try to fuck another girl
lose 50 bux which i lend you back and interest
and now it's my prollem that you don't
have smokes or weed or booze
it's my fault that the world is the way it is
so you just sit over there with your head buried
up your ass. as if i smoked it all
as if i invited her in as if i
don't do for you every goddamn day
and now you resent it that i'm not broke.
welcome to taking care of yourself
welcome to the machine.


the breakup that should have been
didn't come off. what happened to me
that i let him stay? why would he want to?
o my frenz got it all figgered out
i keep him for sex and stays cuz i keep him.
and who knows, maybe that is the gist
but so what if the sex was great?
just a tempor ar ee escape
a nother thing we grew to hate
that bitch it's over.


see, you dn't know how silent
i can be. you haven't seen it
cuz i've always talked to you
tried to work it out. but when
you don't have your head meds
your true colors show up

you think you're owed
you think i'm greedy
you think what
i'm your goddamn mother?


translucent in the underbrush
the stinger pulls out. chlorotoxin
cocktail and a barb for your baby.
don't scorpions sting to eat?
mix yours with mine and you've still
got the better meal.
i dunno, you want something from me.
i know what it is. i'm not giving it.
so you pout, you storm, you grab
and bitch. what are you doing here
what is the story, where do you
go from here? not my story.
not mine.


this is painful.
feel the ache rake.
snap and clutch make it
someone else's fault.
mine. i remember this.
you work harder than me
you do more than me
tell me, how did your soul
migrate to this young body?

i have taken a vow
of silence. it won't last

beyond the next hormonal swing.
why can't just one goddamn day

end in something resembling peace.
the tarot knows, and it's telling

me more than i wished when i
let you in. a big sigh

is better than a finger in your eye.
isn't it? well, isn't it?

this time when i kick you out
it'll be for good. i mean it.

Sunday, July 17, 2005

trying stryrofoam wings
each nite i wait, hope
heavy as bone, that you
will decide for me.

movement over the interlapping
pool triangles carries into a future.

this is peopled by some resemblance
to the last time you and i made love.

when that happens- as it does
each time i close my eyes
and see what i found ,
chrysalis stamped in silk-
i use the yellow marker to fill
the blank white
circle in the middle
and watch you flitter away.


3 tymes the boi
reads the auspices 3
and still he denies them
he'z not buying by
the way. but he's into
polygamy not
monogamy and i it appears
want to own.
what do your own cards tell you?

tachyonic byronic epiphanies
bombarded by neutrinos, zipping pasts
beyond the energy grid
what makes us bid? cake crumbs
making snacks while perpetually replenishing an
emptying linearity of its logic

i hate how time begins
to exist all at once

go with it. "it". yknow zennit
craving for cheese whiz
the places it takes you.
announcements on the half hour.
will you be staying on this trip?

leaps of faith being bad
choices, playing safety over
and over on the cd, this can all
only end in silence. must life be linear?

choices. do we have them?
is that the whole illusion?
if u bat 700 in the choice game-
what's the complaint. some you win.
sometimes the bear is your dance partner.

making a choice
i begin to leave you

this day was written before
you knew you were in the grocery store
looking at the rolaids in the middle
of all those sparkling yellows and aluminums
grab a colgate and a toothbrush
a small pack of trojans
pocket the change

handprint sworn to secrecy
at the edge of the vast darkness
where han shan lives with a candle stick
and the image of a pebble in his mouth
i shine a torch. as if i lived in england
and we had a history to evolve.
there's no sense looking for irony or hidden
meanings. they passed those up
to the front of the room eons ago.

i feel the bat emerge. the sucking sound of language
through a straw. i once knew which lines
were mind and which were mine. now they jumble
like fidelity in a broom. short straw wins.
last one makes a long journey to the camel's back.
all this is spray painted on the first curve
i trace it with the beam, and shadows loom and crackle.

a voice accompanies me. it might be li po
or a tea ceremony flitting in the roil or simple
darkness caressing a flickery candle flame
it speaks intimately, as it takes me
from behind where eyes are free

who am i to believe what love should be?
what 'it' will become? here, gone, the lonely cum
dried as neverwas on a small rock
in the furthest back corner. when you don't cling
how can you desire? if the nerve
doesn't exist, how can it fire?

spent too many befores waiting for the after
and it comes in this call. you'll walk
to the other side of the cave. there seems to be a wall.
walk through it.


20 months is not
an insignificant amount
of time, she assures , i think
he will not leave

chlorotoxins mingle
with plasma, errupt pustuling
into the brain tumor
extract a good sized hole
and settle in. the stinger
is a cock which won't cum
a hammer which won't soften
symbionic pain pulses "alive".

everytime i close my eyes
your head between
my legs i see you in the pool
with her, buried in strange
and the lapping water , your
her moving hips thrown back
head nipples hard in the harsh
blue green light. i wanted
to be be them all but it would
require too much makeup.
stars peering softly november fall.
i should have made you leave anyway
i listened to your vodka and money
retributive on a gray dawn. still i won't
my eyes to the light circling
now ravenous for a body
to illuminate. the
plane was yours you
should have been
your universe contained in a driver's license
lost under the eaves of stairs
going one way.

so what if i
just say ok. fuck it.
i won't love you. just live with me
help me pay
my bills
fuck me every once
in a while
cuz i need that
and you, you're helped too
aren't you?
aren't you?

what's wrong with that i ask diana
and diana sez
nuthin baby cept you're the one
who keeps paying.

o yezzzzz o yaz o yezzssssssssssssssssssssss


and then my other crush
the erstwhile crush
and how he is such a stoopid man
who loves the world
and is no doubt too brilliant
to be with me.
this is the problem. low
self esteem. i know tho if you left
i could
should i want
find such a man as you
only with more money
-smrikel- one who would be
happy to take
of me. yikes. what am i
thinking? i think i'm very
very tired.

Tuesday, July 12, 2005

why is it everytime i think ilove you

you go and do something like
this? o it's no big deal can i tell you
what i thought when you said
you needed to drink at the bar ?
o right, you already know it.
did you know i'm offended that you
spend all your extra money on you
that you don't take me out
that you don't even think of
taking me out. it's like we've been
for 10 years or something it's like
how is that i get into
relationships that bruise me
i don't think there's one that's right
for me. too rich and i feel owned
too poor and feel neglected. there
was one that was just right
for me

but of course the three bears
came alond and pushed me outta bed.

now my hair is red fading to gray
you're fit to be a good husband someday
just not mine, alack allay. hey!

did you know i wrote this pome for me?
but in it, i think i wrote this pome for you.
when i loved you for a while...

Author Comment
Registered User
(7/12/05 6:20 pm)
Reply love pomes you never write
it's after work and a bloody
mary in hand. the kids want
to play hearts. you want to play
hearts with my kids.

you'd rather be upstairs
with the door closed. but

i walk across the room in this old
long dress. you clink the drink
on the glass next

to the cards, hands
out to me,tango eyes waltzing
right into those fishnets i
wear in your head.


you tell me it's writers block that all
the girls you wrote for before
broke up with you it's not like you
to be so supersticious
with your past, i suppose
all the girls whose pomes you burned
or lost never saw them either y not believe
that's the reason they left or maybe it
was that time was
and they would have gone anyway
no staying power maybe you weren't good enough
for them isnt' that always what they said it's not you
it's me inside the smirking i just couldn't live
with myself
if i had settled on you you know that's what
he told me, that's what was
said implicit in goodbye or getting out just like i
did when after all those all years he told me to leave
and i did finally when he didn't
expect it all.

love, gone like aurora
pricked by a billion stars


when you
look at me
like that
i believe
for a second
in worship


i could stare into your eyes
and believe what language says.


sitting outside the laundry
black halter top with skin spilling
over the sides, shorts
a little too
loose, try to fall off
her skinny sliding hips down
under her pot
belly she watches this midnite
street for a sign like
he wouldn't drink away all his money
for real he wouldn't spill
his guts to the barmaid wouldn't
go home with that, forgiven
and wasted in the morning where
he used to live.

i feel so alone.
all the time. no one
to relate too this exile
i made for myself from a katatonic
love. love. what did
love do to me take from me give to me.

mountain of me. i am the tip
of everest, waiting for thaw.


and it's another paycheck
for ya babee, o blow
this one too, you'll never get
that massive black fake
cock you want this way.

look at it building. and you
with 50 bux in your pocket
so you're rich, richie rich, full
o pennies and dimes. i'll take
a nickle bag and bottle of whatever's
most expensive. o none for me?
shivaree, shivaroo, then
there'll be none 4u.

i can't go on this way
watching you play
at being adult. i have

children to tend, rent to raise,
a tent to praise for better daze.

i can't go on this way
pissed everytime you want
to spend your money on what you want.

boiz and their toiz
mommies and their tots
make a lotta noise
from inside a box
apples, oranged
the pond begins to lake, man
made square rilling toward a shore
line, reedy and full of birds.

on the radio they talk about morals.
two hundred plus dead in the new gulag.
the opposition apologizes
for using the word. no words
for the dead. only numbers.

exponentially, the reeds grow.
sorries multiply. the one is nature reclaming
herself. the other, a catacomb for freedom.

Unregistered User
(6/13/05 4:56 pm)
Reply afternoon email to myself vol v
cut the expectations so long ago

this is the day:
keys lost or thrown away
out for lunch at 4 then step
back into displacement

l these voices these languages
were do they come from. it sounds like
thai--good to eat, giverish for the ears.

i'm sorry, i'm not sorry your liscence may be
either suspended or revoked or even
neither. if you haven't carried
insurance for a while, expect to pay thru
our rates are the best! the best i tell you you can even
make a low low down
low down down

called the state. well, not disappointment
with no expectations there are no dis
appearances. mj not guilty on all charges.
not guilty. hoooray for the system.

Unregistered User
(6/14/05 4:28 am)
Reply from my experience
systems mostly suck because they are invoked as method of bullying control when the only control worth anything comes from within

it is a good thing days are divided by stretches of sleep or we could not bear them back to back

Unregistered User
(6/14/05 5:15 pm)
Reply nono sense
why don't presidents fight the war
why do we always send the poor
--system of a down %%

been singing this all day and
time walks by in a kelly green work
shirt bussing the aisles for marketing
strategies. everything done yesterday

needs done again. wrong parts.
at the end of it, there's the therapy session
where in all the world there's some answers
that fist thru the workaday.
choice . that's the thing that freezes.

Unregistered User
(6/15/05 8:27 pm)
Reply double tryptich cobbled on a lazy boy

what? the roses are blooming
and you won't cut them? HR takes
her robobbing for apples and seven minutes
then lays down the letter of the law.
no holiday pay for airin. who walks.
pink shoes and all.

jintana stresses about: eight years from now.
what good is that? either we'll be here or
we won't. cat scans and ekgs aside
there's not a whole lot you can do about it.

teresa tries to get me back in the dream
but it's become sullied with all these nitrogen
explosions. radon stinking up the news, shredding
the attic and grandma's best parthenon
with absolutely no guarantee of return.

then there's the double bed issue.
used and the lice have a field day.
new and the mites can develop the property
at will. or won't. and i won't. i mean it.

did i mention the smells? middle of
summer and chemicals.point to
a new breed morphing.
don't bite the finger, you might need it for the dna.

plain talk: HR is subject of debate now. is she
or isn't she? i tell them it's all about power.
she thrives on it. begin to steal a line from an ex
and she's there with the intellectual property rights.
ready to go to court on an article. one goddamn article.

make mine "a". not the. more
general. squirrely. even. can't quite
pin it on a singular or a plural.
a mountain range. a cannibal. a note
for the next in line, holding two wires
and an insulating yawn.

mistaken for doG

Author Comment
Unregistered User
(7/12/05 7:35 am)
Reply when you were saying me
you looked for me
in dreams but all i needed
was the next gray sky
to materialize like a ghost
you loved but died.

some part of me left
tomato juice frost on a clear
glass, vodka instead of gin,
tobacco's scent on the wind.

now it's sunning all the time
hot streaks of cat move down
the unused railroad tracks
where a penny holds its breath
waiting for the flip.

it hasn't come yet.
just wisps, reminding you
of how it used to be: safe,
friendly, shaken not stirred.
not at all like this double vision--
in one eye, out the third.

Unregistered User
(7/12/05 7:47 pm)
Reply doppler
verticle blinds drawn
against the sunset
behind a blue draped scrap
of past, wafting sympathetic
nervous systems
he builds a canal into a smile
then controls the she.

silence folds itself
like seaweed on sashimi.

all these voices, it seems to say,
with only expectation in their open beaks.

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