the rain in spain

m calls , he's been fantasizing
about me all week. at disney,
in the short line of universal
studios, as he tucks his granddaughter
into bed. he asks if i've been
doing the same. my intellect
excites him so much. i tell him my
fantasy about him is that he's so rich
and he owns a lear jet
he could take me to barcelona
a place i've always wanted to see.
he is nonplussed for a moment
then recovers quickly and says that may
be possible. but what do i think
he should do about this
right now it not being possible
to fly me to barcelona without a passport
which indeed i do not have. i tell him
stay where you are. we've been
thru this m, i am not fucking you
the first time i meet you.
you haven't changed your mind have you?
and he hasn't. he wants it in writing
post haste, double stamped money back guarantee.
/i think one kiss will convince you
i will wager one hundred to your one/
and i tell him i can get quite competitive
and i don't like losing bets
so maybe he shouldn't wager with me
on this particular subject.
and on and on he tries to convince me
otherwise and he brings up all his money
/tell me/ he says / one thing that is better
without it/
how about knowing if someone likes you for you
or your money? how about art?
that's two, which he quickly shoots down
with more of his scorpioish continental ennui.
that's when i tell him people
with money and i usually don't get along.
/well you have my number/
and it's true, it's on my caller id
/i have 3500 hundred square feet
looking out over the atlantic and we could
watch the full moon rise
over the ocean and bathe us with silvery light
as we explore each other.
call me if you change you change your mind/
but i think his number will fall off the face
of my phone before i do.

ending with rust

it rusts, oxidizes to the color of dried blood
on lips full of sacrifice. the sacrificial knife
stained with time's leavings. sharpen it
to wit, a throat exposed and giving
skin on skin and living\lost in time, a shriving.









lay down next to me, a hindrance to be
overcome this space between us with a feather
lost from flight, an entrance into night
no wrongs to set aright/ until we see in different light.







































the red planet the planet of individualism
the symbol for male, dominance, the ram with a knife
in his hand. you were ruled by this
until they found an icier place to put you, lonely
and watching the two year dance with a frozen lust.
slowly you move towards the core, trying to become
not one, but the one. you hate it when i get all esoteric.


i'm looking for a healing ointment
a balm to soothe these self inflictions.
i try to call up venus but it's morning now
time to get up and grow my own individual snowflake.
the one who is becoming
says to the one who would be seperate
hello. nice to meet you.
how hot the sun's fresh greeting.




they call you evil
but you just come to my heart
differently from the rest. which is the planet
of the judges? o , that would be

a woman upside down,
a faster moving crown
a line drawn in the down
this planet that we found.
they call it tellus.
lolol. they called him thot
what the call is from a semiotic pot.
here have a hit.
you'll understand it better then
or maybe not but it's goodbye zen.
















































the old one eyed god loosed his first raven
on the world. whomever the bird shat upon
was blessed with intelligence whatever that means
until the cells so honored died. many men
sought the unsheltered places of the realm
where they offered up carrion and other tasty scraps
for the bird then stood sky clad with arms akimbo
waiting for thought's limbo. but their mouths
were closed. their eyes, blinded by the sun's son
as they prayed for the shadow to fall.


the raven for his part laughed as the scraps
fattened him. the little men and their misunderstanding/
under- standing in the rain of his feces- him they looked
like courtiers worshipping fools. he carried their prayers
back to his master who shook his head shuddered his
shoulders then tired of it, tried again. she became a blue
lake with a border, a flattened out red spot on a the face
of jupiter who always hated that name and her mother's
sense of unnatural proportion which landed it on her--
she of the strawberry on her cheek, tatooed by a goddess
on her day of birth, lunging in the woods of oregon
between trees which forbade any blade. the way she

hugged the bark was sinuous the way she called the lark
abstentioumous the panels in her heart redemptionless
closed to all but those fools, sensuous. the old man loosed
his second raven, wanting some word of the scene.
but she and her children had eaten them all
and covered themselves with sound of green.

























you know what i mean?





























you will
always be my
star, individual
unique snow flake, melting
away








































one more hit on the pipe
because here lies danger--

the thought of comfort
in your arms. they're filled

with knives of bronze. a battle
in your skin, becoming in.

i let you go on a daily basis.
your glass so clear, i see

inside the sweet liquer, taste
on my lips. hands on my hips.

let me give you a tip. the smoke
i talk is mirrors waking up. i give you

nothing more than empty cup.
i'll always treat you like a pup

intensify your growing up. does that mean
we stop being children. up is airy, like a faery

godmother you can believe in, caught
in clouds of nether regions, dreams

n stuff for all our seasons. half a cake
turns stale in your mouth the other half

frozen in waiting. take it out,
time's thaw is beginning.
















































































he built his fence of iron
on the edge of the dunes
where the breeze from the ocean
could pass thru to his little castle.
built of brick. why a fence
i asked as we walked towards the open
gate. he paused, and leaned against
the flaking post. i like the feel of salt &
metal on my back he said
and passed through. i tried to follow
but he caught the latch and turned his back.
the sun was going down behind him
a rusty stripe down his spine.

cold fish and virgins

the moon takes up half the sky
saved by the light of, a bit of future
falls from my body, scraps for mites.

you spend half the week convincing me
you're interested and one night telling me
of your stone heart. this is not
going as i thought. i am not the doctor.
the rapist. the your life escapist.

i have my own half life to endanger.
the one who is now in deer medicine
calls to the one is now in fear, medicine!
and it runs to her mouth like blood in an abbatoir.

and did you wonder why the half paced enthusiam
the half assed glance the half measures i put on my psyche?
i talk about health as if i understand to how to get it.
this pisses you off. you snap the window shut.

i'd go off half baked, but someone with a halo next window over
says "you're not blasting men, yr just angry".
and i have to agree. at the thing that persues me.

put a spell on me

i called you even tho
i promised myself i wouldn't

then you said yeah.
and i said yeah.

while i'm in the shower
you call. plans have changed.

i'm on the backburner
again.

damn this rice is getting sticky.
meanwhile, he's thinking of me.

wants to cook me fish.
liked the date. me too.

says he can't kiss.
i disagree. vehemently.















*




next up is a torso
who can't read but pilots
his own plane. i'd be nicer
but these guys are jerks

i mean if you're really wanting
what you say you want
instead of what you're really wanting

why do you treat women with such disrespect?
does it actually carry you to any of these places?
or do you only speak with women whom you can't respect...

tell ya what. i think i'm too vulnerable
to date. i got my spike collar on
my heavy metal toed boots
my black lipstick and cherry root
cigar. it's a battle field and i'm
in full defense gear. until

i open my mouth. put sweet agreeable
southern into it. wouldn't want to offend
anyone. wouldn't want to mess them up.


man, i got get my lava nails installed.
put a zipper on my mouth a scorpion in my cunt.















*




it prolly wouldn't work.
i am who i am. fodder for the machine.
men my age who are tired of love
tired of trying who just want
to stick it in and take it out again.
every woman that said yes
that's who they're fuckin over now
the ones that made them take that vow.


well, shit . it's a comical situation if you think about it.
sis is right. just don't jump back in to a relationship.
the best i could hope for is good sex with someone
other than the ex. next!

letters \ meant to sent

letters \ meant to sent
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
baby steps on the grass
and cries at the tickling feet.
today we'll make music
dribble on the wet nappy
converting enemies to gruel.
why am i so cruel?


there is a reaching out
to becoming inward. all the galaxies
clustered in an iris
which once belonged to you.


goodbye columbus . sails adrift
over the horizon. monsters waiting
somewhere at the edge of the world.
or gold. or gold you whisper
as the spray hits your face
as the sun fractures across the bow
making a rainbow making illusions of reality.
















&








concrete and asphalt mixologies
spray painted moon winks at venus
a tear for all the tears in my ozone.

layers of mood over parchment thin pastries.
a growth in girth and genuflection,
mirth and monk deflection.
"if i can't be one with you
i'll take god, he's always there."
baptist. papist.

















()






last nite , wind carried
a hint of spring, delicate and fresh.
my arms were gooseflesh
and summer's white dress tarried.

now the unbearable
sun burns the grass.
i think of your ass
and how yr wearable.



next stage blues sing
siren in my head.
we were long past dead
took off on a wing.















*










dear last love of my life.
dear next love of a life.
dear oh dear she says
is this my own mess
upon the floor. who shall next
show me the door.



















8











no ere is impetus to act.
the broken beer bottles stack
like a stairway to oblivion
let's walk them , shall we/ shards
sticking into flesh. palms. feet.
the very place of forced sacrifice
the genesis of work. watch the blood flow
sweet into the pool
at the base
to which i can dive when i reach the top
we all dive alone.



i'll share my oxygen with you
if you jump. if you lose yours
but only enough to give you hope
as i swim back to the top
for help. maydays beconning
conning
con ning
ning
con
ing























*











what does it all mean
he asks himself as he pours frosty
flakes into the white bowl
with blue stripe. it seems
he asks himself this same question
each morning. looks for the answer
on the side of the box, printed in chemical
formulas, with a hint of organic.
what was the question?
each day a new start.
of the same old thing.
taste of sugar and crunch and cold white snow.
get up and go.
















*


it's morning again
she thinks as the alarm
goes off. instant dispersion
of the dream set mind.
no. hit snooze. where was i. no.
if you don't sleep enough
your dreams have no where to live.
they settle in the pockets of your coat
turn into money. she shakes out
the bills and counts them.
puts them in the bank.
tallies the count.

















8


tired ness creeps into the marrow
but still this ache to rise. vacuum
ash into obstinate sculptures
spirally towards heaven. a place in your arms.
forgotten and forgetting.





















&




he sez i still believe in love.
a miracle of sorts. bags under yes.
eyes over pouch. nice pic, it feels
like real. it feels like a never leftness.
a concubine's lateral move.
she's still trying to control the wave
but it does what it wants. wipes
her into water. mingles with air. now her
knees hit dirt. ow that hurt. mist flies
everywhere and there's a pull
on the surface of the night.
he's there. his heart beating.
eyes a possible
an unopened lid.
the kind she craves most.
















*









and what of you. how are you today?
i wanted to phone the next station over
but lost your number, just as you meant me to.
or as i meant to. the equations of situations
too diverse to simplify. a cloistered by product
of introduction and voyeurism. a possibility
viewed from the banks of the ganges
floating face up, eyes wide open
but breathing.
breathing
still.

a lil james taylor on my radio

save your goodbyes for the mourning light.








do me wrong it says
do me right right now
tell me lies but hold me tite
save your goodbyes

spend them on me.









i don't not regret it
but i regret it. i wish i had
never met you. i wish we were
still together i wish
you were older.
i wish you were.







*








go away then damn you
go on and do as you please


cuz that's what it's always been about.
my sacrifices to your lessons.
and why? b/c i fell into your eyes.




you ain't gonna see me gettin down on my knees

in fact i'm climbing this pedestal
that you think is sexy. i'm staying up here
you can view me from below. here we go.







i'm undecided and your heart's been divided


so that's what i'm working on now.
how to cleave this wounded flesh.
pass the stitches. inject the procaine.
no more breaks but it tore along the same path.
same path. you've been turning my world
up side down. do me wrong. do me right
right now. go on and tell me lies

like how sexy i am how u luv me luv me
but i think if you can't spend any time with me
then it's like that blink 182. blink blink
but hold me tight. save your goodbyes

and swallow them whole. i'm letting you letting you letting you go.

inside the bone motel

----------------------------------------------
patter of ash tickles the sky.
reactionary kicks to burning psyche.
when i said he was you i meant that
in the most flattering way. how life once

tried so hard to live. i stepped on your
toe with my stilletto jeans, pointed and bearing
all that weight. the sometimes possible
barely held in check on a spot the mass of a dime.

the river runs the same course it did yesterday.
the red light's timed the same, regardless of hour.
come sit with me on a minute's curb, let's
discuss the death of romance, a jaded parade of dateless

monotonies occurring. no thanks, but thanks
for asking. it's a midsummer nights dream of the most
complicated fractal. wish you were here. but
seventeen hours and forty minutes into the play

you suddenly need.
food. exposure to not
the probable but the actual
occurring, printable cell.

wake up sleepy head.
there's money to be sold.


















*



when ever i get out in public i worry
the crowd with my antix. the subtle regard
transformed to belly dance on a string's pluck.

they say it's the feyness of minature confidence.
defensively neitzschean, definitively herpsichorean.
but i think the music rawks. you're sposed to move
aren't you? not stand there with your arms folded

pretending to yourself that you could do better
but you're in the audience and that guy
up there, he stole your life?
i was married to one of those. wannabe s that never tried.
the power of resentment. it stops the good vibe
dead in it's propagation. rock n roll is a young man's.



last nite i went on a date. with a mortgage broker.
i had to ask him to please not
wear the mirrored glasses, it was too disconcerting
to speak to my reflection

we stood on the fourth floor of the parking garage
where anyone with a telescopic camera could have taken
our picture as we lit a pipe filled with weed from his brother's
place. somewhere out there in america.

and we talked about youth and i said
they're sick of us
they're sick of it he said yeah
i'm sick of us. i can feel it
he bent his head, pointed
at the pinion of his pivoting neck
and i thought of axes.

last week he had a formal to attend. he'd ordered a silk
scarf from italy. was assured it would be shipped on time.
it arrived the day after. mutherfucker! he swore to me
over the phone. passionate. upset.

later a young woman would approach him ask him
do you have thoughts? what do you think about all day?
and he has no answer. and he says his job. and she sends
him on his way, telling me 'oh pleeze. you can do better'.

but earlier we'd been dancing. he smiled several times.
he got an erection. i rebuffed his advances. there was nothing
left to do. she's too vulgar. she doesn't dye her hair. his nails
were better than mine, his shoes i don't remember

but he had a good time. and he will
remember it when he's in his fine bed
with an ice princess and a diamond
scoring patterns into the night
that lives inside him.
















&
















when i get needy i promise
to call you promiseless
and you think this means things
can continue tho everything changes
this is a false assumption.

i am halfway between belief and bereavement.
your ghost walks my hallways again
and we embrace as if yesterday never occurred.

i always hope it will be the last time
and pray for a new delusion. one i can
get lost in this time without all these rattling
palms dancing beside my place of rest.

the weight of capitals

---------------------------------------
over there, off
in the distance of getting
things done, we're having
this conversation.

life moves thru me like sand.
possiblities turn into spiders
whose legs i'd crush if i weren't so
squeamish. over and over it rises
this non thing called hope.
then it sinks. helium and boron.


a disappearance is what i make of it
watching the glittery past
of a slug shining in the sun.
the moments of a graveyard
how they linger
into eterntiy. what a concept
she said to the beans that hericlitus
was planting in the pots
that lined the windowsill. let's get started

on the long road to incompatibility
let's see what earnesty buys. but
let's do it together. on the other hand

he doesnt' see things that way. a blending-
an incestuous mix of manacle and mentor.
mending and riptide. unctious offerings refused.
















&


yes he is
your younger you
eyes bright with future
and unknowns. an angel kissed
his memories, they turn
into songs becoming poems.

so many lives to flow into as the legume
unfurls zygote to human. eat me
says the chad. become me. i'm dying.
















*

















and why persist? really. the quiet of a bedroom
calls to me. the comfort of feathers i never knew
cushioning my neck , which aches, from the tension
of loving too much, too soon, too often, too too hey2



















()






an unexamined life sat upon the shelf.
she liked the label. pulled it from its spot-
hole flow. can opener carbonation. tying
one last string to the outband symphonies
playing in her ear, the zone, the emptied out ballooning
she opens the can. tri glyceride temptations,
sweet brown syrupy beads. sustenance.
she pulls on the bread basket, dislodges a piece
pours them on. adds a slice. smushes the contents.
zips the files. bites.
















*


a
i
a
m
n
o
t
r
e
a
l
l
e
e
t
h
i
s
way















*


sinecure and sinequanon. everyone thinks
of specialties and fantasies. the breathless kiss.
the hiding you. yes you. reality tv star
make a bow, tie it. it holds your head
on your shoulders, holds travel
against a map of contentment and typos.
semi autonomous landscapes barrel past
the training window of your mind. when time
began to jigsaw together the last of our dreams
came upon us. everyone got what they carelessly wanted.
and tired of it. and missed it and grieved it and bargained
it for positive
electrochemical reactions.




*















last nite the wind blew thru my veins
and i was not
alone
but not with you, not with flesh.
i felt intimate whistling in my hollows.
an emptiness made beautiful
by an inevitability even
angels know will birth
from the one who is becoming ex.

paramecium

so i found a new dating site.
it will get me used to flesh time rejection.
one guy, i mailed him and he said since i live
in the next county he's discounting me.
well, we all have to have our filters.
instead of trying to convince him otherwise
i let it go. for me, that's progress.
now, why am i looking in dating when i already
have a date and a meet up? well, obviously
i don't think they're gonna work. which is really
cynical to be even thinking of going out with them.
but i'm open minded i scream to the internal editor.

i tried to im with like 5 men, but no go.


also wrote a couple other guys whose profiles
seemed rather interesting, as if , if they're
for real then i would like to meet them
just to see if sparks will fly.


also found out there's a five date rule.
woah. didn't know that. i think a one month min rule
is better. rulez. rulez rulez. sigh.
but i guess you can't help how you feel.


last nite after talking with you
i was so happy i didn't succumb
to the flesh. i came home and looked deeply
at the person in the mirror. i decided i like
what i see, even the wrinkles. this was after
i tried to use my mental powers to erase them.

this morning of course, all that feeling is gone.
and it's not morning.

meds, i always need meds. it helps to show me
the path i need to take. we were talking about love.
and i believe love is a place of commitment.
of living your life for someone else.
he told me he couldn't make any promises
which means he
but anyway, the sex was not compatible.
i have to remember that. and for him
sex is what it's all about. i mean
look at the age. sigh. cry.

oy lyzne why do keep going there?
over is over is over.
he didn't also understand living
for someone else. iow, dying for someone
is actually an easy thing. i'd take a bullet
for you etc. but to live for someone
to get up daily and want to make
their lives one
of joy , that's love. of course that
gets wearing when they can't understand
or give that back.


one guy did IM me. a poet. songwriter.
2fukin4. wanted to smoke with me
on the smokey beach, fuck in the sand.

i told him i'm trying to wean myself from young men.
and i am. i really am. all the guys i emailed
are >40. so that's all good. even had this artist
looking at me twice and i didn't go there. 29. 29.
oh i remember 29. hi 35.



anyway, i'm not in a poem mood.
i'm skittering along the surf, on the top
of the water, breaking in the waves.

i wish i could write all those poems
i had last nite. or rather really early this am.

why are people so dismissive?
lol. you know why. time is a precious commodity.
stop wasting it.

throwing out lifelines

and someone threw back
2 someones today.
how saweet. really
the lava guy is still interested
but i've never dated a hispanic before
and i hear
they're kinda macho. he wants to meet
on friday somewhere. perfect. let's see
if he can hang with the poets.oh and
he's 12 years younger. ahem. but so what.
he said he's been working 12 hour daze.
youth? not hardly.
prolly looking for a mami.
but he called me your hotness so how could i refuse?



earler i wanted you
back. today she tells
me all about how you didn't do this
and didn't do that and i warned her
stop it now or
and she's all like i know i know
but you have bespelled her.
you are such a puppy.


still.

we talk on the phone, pragmatic things
when you can come by for the mail
when will you change your address
you call you babe when you hang up.
just like before.

and still i think of your arms and still
i remember o yes i remember the bed
and the chains you wanted around us
till i gave them. brindle haired you chafe.
how i wanted it to always be true
but knew you'd have to grow, if not up
then inside. smoke in the sky

all day. the evening light is violet
as undereye bruises, the softness
of curtains, a wash of yellow causing pink.
there are fires in this state. discarded
cigarettes and lounge tree lightning.
waterless spring and the air so tight
it explodes behaving as avalanche
rolls into the city , chokes

traffic. how much do we have
to hurt before we know if
but i already know if
and to hold on to you is pointless
but why did you stay in town? hoping
from some acceptance from me of what you must change?
find your voice. stop wasting your youth.
if you love something let it go.
the truest words i know.

















*



stilll












*













so that's saturday and friday nite.
just what i'd been missing. how about that?
















&

she says look you remember
you didn't want anyone else before
and it was just like this and you know
it'll come.and i think yeah
i know. just like this time. finally wanted
but i waited too long. believed you meant it as you
were walking out the goddman door.
just like before. sigh. it was my fault
i made you love me, then you made me love you.
what did you know? you have a life to live.
i have to let go

the exit interview

she sits on the porch teary
with the moon behind her head.
happy lunaversary she thinks.
he lights her cigarette.

they discuss the way it went wrong.
the way they were. what the future
might hold. he's happy he's single
and she's happy he's happy. she

remembers when she once felt that way.
for about five minutes 42 or so moons ago.
she cries some more. hands him some pain.
he wants to believe in possibility. she

wants him to know the truth of everything
she's told him. he tries to touch her
but she won't feel it. he wants to be
back there with the wind their veins. she

looks at the place they could lie together.
it calls to her. their bodies entwine and he's
telling her how he found an inner strength from
nowhere. she's been there. she nods her head

and whispers from the other side
of the gulf she's creating, curled up alone
in her chair, remembering every prophecy he's fulfilled
"it doesn't matter what an ex thinks."