trashpo
ezOP
(6/20/06 7:29 pm)
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ezSupporter
murmurs shake like thunder
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the only thing i wanted to discuss
is the thing you glaze in arrogance
it slices into my sense of slavery
my sensoslave. in you a dream
is stoked, the forty desert days,
the mission and its long shadow.
how much will i give and how much
will you take hangs like stainglass wind
chimes ring the hour, on the hour.
my master calls to the seven gods
one for every ill. in barcelona they drip
centuries like hourglass. i wait for you
on the warm piazza, where sun is a guitar
with a broken string and loose pegs.
Author Comment
trashpo
ezOP
(6/21/06 1:40 pm)
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ezSupporter
forming notes
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i came into work and promptly
wrote a poem in the air.
how to become a productive
member of society or congrats
yr already there. you know
i wish i could be happy with a
disney existence. but the plasti
c doesn't go with my nails. iron
ic isn't it, that all the years and
we're still sharecropping
the lakes disappear down
a hidey hole and we want
public money to restock
the gun club. yes, it's all ducks
and mirrors but they're our
ducks. you can keep the circus
where cirrus clouds join with
marie antionette pirouettes-
headless but fashionable.
i can only talk to you in metaphor
nothing is the way i write
i came to this country with high
hopes and a work ethic. i got it
poeted out of me in the glare
from the all night diner, my third
job from the sun.
Author Comment
workerb
Unregistered User
(6/26/06 11:49 am)
Reply | Edit | Del All deja vu, petalled through nothing
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so you sit up in bed explaining
that you were drunk when you asked
if i'd join you and her in a domfest
as if you didn't hear at all
the things i said about feeling inadequate
and the way this love i keep building
is made from spun sugar crystals and melts
at the first drop of water
i have to start spinning it all over again, again
and the way you move your arms
a conductor weaving music from air
and the tone of your voice jets over
what i'm trying to say, again but more as if
i must have dreamed this because i wouldn't
be having this same conversation again, again
i mean
not if we've already discussed it once, right?
Author Comment
trashpo
ezOP
(6/22/06 6:26 pm)
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ezSupporter
tired dogs in the streets of curepipe
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in front of the door to a cafe
which serves the best guarapa
in the village they sit
like the buhdda
statue sits, near the ocean
with lolling tongues
this is how we know
they're tired.
plenty of rats in the streets
crust of overdone pig
hunger is not an issue. bristle
and knotted eyes on the watch
for another tourist to rub
ankles with or some thing to which
they could be loyal. masterless
they wear cowboy scarf collars
stolen from nearby clotheslines.
it is not widely known
they are cousins to dingos
and read with bemused pride
of infants, disappeared from the bush.
the bush. wag tail
and hindquarter signall they know all
about the bush. they look at us
with heatwave for eyes. bark ayers rock
when we open the door to the cafe.
i would offer them sleep but they'd only take it
from a gun.
live pet psychic on the phone
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first off he says his name
isn't rusty. that's why he won't
come when you call. yes, he
thinks it's impolite that you
never asked him. i'd ask him now
if what you want is a good
relationship. ye es, he told me
but he wants you to ask. of course
he understands english. dog? huh, that's another
issue but i tried to explain to him that humans
are pretty much tone deaf. can't understand
anything without labials and fricatives. vowels
are just there to soften the teeth. what? o
well, don't let on i told you or he wont' trust
me anymore and trust is implicit in the pyschic
bond. it's jonah. yes, like the man in the whale.
o you'd be surprised at the extent of a dog's
religion. but now of course, he knows i told you.
yes, that's fortunate. you might actually be smarter
than he gives you credit for. ok, listen, just
walk in the kitchen and fill his bowl and ask him.
don't call him jonah till he tells you.
....
....
....
yes, i'm still here. you have 7 minutes
of your half hour still. o, that's a minimum charge.
of course you can go over! silly.
Author Comment
trashpo
ezOP
(6/28/06 7:50 pm)
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ezSupporter
gleam of nitrous
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so, in the beginning he says it's cuz
i came back for him. shit i 'm a sucker punched
way back to 2 years ago. and he was a happy.
he sez you didn't consult with me
as to how i lived, what kind of slob am i.
true dat. so now that makes me responsible
for him fo evah. no shit um, excuse me
he says i don't appreciate you talking this over
with your son. i sez o rilly> that's the kind of thing
my ex used to tell me, sure we got probs but
don't talk about em. nope. i said look, he asked
so i told him my reasoning. same reasoning
i just told you. he sez i don't like being equated
with your son. and so i sez well then stop acting like him.
the fights are better to read about than the makeup scenes.
i took a shower. locked the door so he couldn't come in.
came out he's lying there with a set mouth says
well, it would be better to learn this lesson from you
b/c ima hafta resent someone and better it be you
than my mom .i'd like my future kids to have a relationship
with their grandma cuz they aren't gonna have one with
their grandpa and i already resent her enough.
and i'm like go fuck a dom .
you'll end up resensting me no matter
what i do. we stay together you'll resent me dying
and taking your life with me , we split up you'll resent
that i didn't love you enough, you pull carpet
or sling burgers all your life due to your piss
management of money it'll be me that made you do it,
you have a revolution you'll resent that i was
the first person you killed. or saved. i'm not sure
which but i request the former.
thoght about it some today flitting cardinal
between red boards and order entries. the revolution
or capitulation. it's still a choice for you--
by staying with me, it is not. i'm fuckin buying
a home. rent's skyrocketing and i can't live
this way- life is bones in a walking grave.
security of the moment vs working dangerously for life.
didn't anyone tell you that living is dangerous?
lying low, hibernating is the rabbit way. ^-^
i got braces once. get my teeth filed regularly.
he calls me a traitor. he's right of course.
i have not a defense about me. i moved thru life
avoidance. now confronted with it i find i'm
agoraphobic. find if i can swim outta the pipeline
ghetto into the a mobile, well that's not half bad
for one life. he says i'm deluded aboot reincarnation
i say you don't know what i believe. how could he?
i don/t. he says you're part of the machine and i say
you're a parasite which makes you the same. no escape.
we go on for hours. she is fortish, with a round face
fine wrinkled line forehead, staving off one round five
after another. round five is the ko. she's got one hand.
it's pulsing from a hit of ac earlier in the day. one
hundred twenty volts and it's jolting her arm
settled in her knee. she can't report accidents. that means
drug tests and the inevitable useless counseling.
they say if she stops smoking cigs and weed she'll
be healthier but she's turned off by the obsession with supplements
and feng shui. yes, there's someothing there all right
let's call it maketing. we deal ourselves what we can
live with right now, how to enjoy the backseat
of life with the top down. he's not old when he shaves
but he's slovenly. she can relate except the no showers
wonders if i'ts a scorpio trait. his eyelashes are necklaces
she wears when they're alone. he's laughing and sorry
and she laughs in sorrow and sorry and here
let's let nietzsche hold on to the resentment while he kisses
her beside the river , she proclaiming her bitch and he his shitheel.
defer
Unregistered User
(7/7/06 4:57 pm)
Reply | Edit | Del All field of dots
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close up they look like mums'
crennelated primaries but from a distance
they're just points on a plane, merging.
we moved from brooklyn because i heard
the rent here's cheap. then my husband
was stationed to the indian ocean. snowball
was the worst hit, his nails ticking on the tile
floors along the hallway between the kitchen
and our bedroom, all night long. for months
we could not mention your name, jimmy
without him doing that run. he didn't understand
even tho the boy tried to explain. my baby
growing up. sometimes i watch him
from the dark den, as the sun filters thru this kitchen
i want to call ours- as soon as you get home jimmy
as soon as you can-in the morning, hair a xerox
of yours, profile against the quaker oats box
dinstincly your mom's and wonder where i fit in
not me as mom or teller at the credit union
but what happened to that woman
who went to school, what was that for?
and the answer comes to wait
like my mom waited on vietnam and her mom waited
after pearl harbor, think fatherless
children even before the phone call, the visit, the telegram however
they tell me that the hand that took the picture
he's so proud of, his daddy's rainbow over the F15 has been found
without a pulse, and how i'm supposed to see his point of light
among the thousands now, growing and drowning out
any place for us to curl and cuddle in the dark, lights out
our hearts the loudest sound .
trashpo
ezOP
(7/10/06 1:29 am)
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ezSupporter
Re: trilateral dream
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trilateral dream
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silly putty imprints on saturday nite
sink or swim, flotilla in the second coffee
shop on first ave. checkmate in three
hours of conversation and two minute
open mic confessionals. nothing will make
primus whole again or the way i feel
about the situation. ships dock for a while
the passengers disembark, cruise the duty
free shops for laminated star
fish and keychains shaped like dragons of the sea.
you put your head thru the giant shark jaw
the camera flashes. there becomes a picture
i can look at and remember when but
it's not like that anymore. they're pulling the plank
and i need to get used to it. wave the kerchief
languidly, mouth alohas to your comings
and goings, dance in my grass skirt
till the ship slips out of sight. sunset
in the pupil of a dandelion, right before a wind.
cutty sark remarks
in the rocky locker of a coffee cup
lock'em up tie'em down
let them dry before they
float away and drown
in the flood of ghostriders from the moon
poon spilling spit into the night of the walking dead
hitched and pegged upright but about to dip
into the skinny of the boney sea
of penzazz and all that madcap depp
jizz and jazz skirling G&S
and jack
rounding out this tryptich of caffeine
on the scene in a moondrenched meme
like faeries on afterburner, jack sprat on jim beam
but rum's his fatal harmony, that lover
with another, brown eyes aligned in coal and goal
and petticoats, desirous.
