Friday, May 29, 2009

Quantum mechanical entanglement of the spin ensemble

so there's this number
of things to do: n spin
and bracketed. why keep going
to the same river? her banx
look like bangs on the starfish.

ooh. well o. well of regression
magnetic resonance and hollow shells.

Wednesday, May 27, 2009

post news blues





how i imagine i look
from inside your perspective--
grainy, rasters moving sixty times
a second, a little tilted
elongated, semi permanent claymation
figures melding the background
and ruby shoes crying home please
take me home now.



















8888888888888888888888888888888888888

an end to tempting resistence

harmony and me /we're pretty good company


sorry about giving in to the positivity
o god of nocturnal delights, but i thought
a new star might be pleasing to your eyes.

i sometimes go days without thinking of you
now i'll have to begin collecting my chips all over again.



under the table in the bathroom the weekly planet
scuttles its places for liaison--so last week. my inbox
was found thru a reunion site: the past comes
to haunt everyone sooner or later. even good memories

are fraught with glowing jellyfish tentacles. i have a theme
going on with the ocean, she doesn't demand much.
a pair of glasses here, a hairtie there, an opal in exchange
for my firstborn. last time she let me off, gratis. slapped
a little sense into me, lasted almost three days.






































()****













the snake returneth. i am in my cabin
deep in the bowels of the city. you are poised
on the brink of hello. the hiss of the fan, spinning,
hides the slither until i am faced with a tongue
and wide jaws. there's fire inside that belly
i can see its hunger. or is that rumbling
from me? i don't want to imagine

ruby shoes and wizards again, i want
you to be too much and not enough.
i want olive salad over hummus, szadsiki sauce,
kerflempt unkemptness on the sidewalk
leading to your house. the snake
just wants a meal. feed me, he says feed
me. i look frantically around the room
for any appetizing morsel not in the shape of my heart.
i was saving that for a special occasion.


the cards back me up. i pick up my wands
you chain the lovers to your knees. there are coins
between us still. as always , what's to be
is the mystery. the snake merely waits.
















*()&&&










resistence is futile. your eyes
circle like a jungle book anime.
later we'll bring out the staves and knives,
carve this up real fine
a leg for you, a hindquarter
for me. we'll unhinge
our jaws and swallow whole, slurping
my tail, wanting the end
to be the beginning.

Monday, May 25, 2009

the disappearing room

when i was a child the church i went to
had a gathering room where sunday school classes
where held or pot luck gatherings you know
just a general meeting room between the chapel
and the offices. later when i visited this church
as a young adult the room was gone, but
it wasn't like the other rooms had gotten larger
no signs of remodeling. it had just disappeared.





*





the cutest kitty in the house is the color of shadow
or a florida summer storm. bands of gray over gray
the cutest kitty in the house is the hardest to pet
even tho she purrs as loud as the redhead who loves
to be picked up. the cutest kitty will only want you
of you're typing or otherwise engaged but if you give her
your full attention she moves away, looks you in the eye
only from across the room. meows pet me
rub my tummy, love me. brb


















*








before i arrive you're
waiting, in a new place with old thoughts.
i am strangely at home, finger
your possessions as if they were old friends
know your album collection as intimately as my own.

there is a table beside the hot tub where we smoke
and drink coffee. when you run
back to your apt to refill and empty, i strip
and float in the tub, trying to ease the pain
in my neck. it's been raining all weekend
but right now the stars are bright, the tub secluded
in a bubble of darkness and shrub. i don't
have very long till you're back so it's only

a temporary release. later you may see me
nude, but i haven't decided yet .
still the deck is above the river, the night is warm, not
muggy, there are palms silhouetted in the ambient light
it's pretty close to paradise, even tho it's home.
above us, there is a star, moving like a jet. or possibly a jet
that appears to be a star. you don't see it
because your lasik was not 20/20. still they took off
a half inch of cornea. i wonder if
they used it for transplant. i am scared

of lasik. i do not want to be completely
blind. or completely focused for that matter.
in the morning you prepare eggs, bacon, toast
and mushrooms. i think of the psychedelics you took
which i didn't. it never ceases to amaze me
the things we can forget.



we load up for the beach
because the rain seems to be moving west. i want to drive
because i won't have to move my skimboard
to your car. you suggest north to the jetties i want
to go south to some memories. do a drive by exorcism.
you think there are parking meters on the roads i know.
i think you may be mistaken, further on, i know a few
roads. eventually we're both right. just past the split
on a1a there is a road with access and no meters.
i write this now so that next time i go over there
i can find it again. you make your own mental note.



































*












the sea turtle tracks lead
from the ocean and back. the nest is an imprint
of a prayer with amphibious hands.


i'm working out company
and distance, you're speaking
in secrets and shells
we're about to dive for a long minute.
perfect time to meet

and part like jellyfish dancing .
your eyes are better with sunglasses on.
my sighs are better with a soundtrack.
i wear a straw cowgirl hat.








































*









downpour
drenching droughted
wetlands. my home.through rivers
of tar, yesterday's wilderness
endures. through the tantulum
capacities, the space program, the six
main precepts and sixty four nintendo bits
pastures can still be seen
filled with gators and poisonous snakes
whooping cranes and black egrets two hundred
year old live oaks embrace the earth
with their arms my home
out there off the interstate, thru
the rain thru the mist passing and past, dreamed
of still.























*








on the other side of orlando the sun
makes his first set since forever.
a week of non stop rain, hurricane out
of season, holiday of memories, sky
the color of ghosts. gloriously orange

while bach plays on the mp3, a 30 second
blinder, beauty in goodbyes, loosing the clasp
on the box in which i've kept you
so what's inside can rise again, helium
or some lighter chemical perhaps, like free.

Friday, May 22, 2009

i give up

i really do

perplexed

well, i have this knack, apparently, for saying the exact thing to drive a guy away. i never know what it is i say or maybe it's that they just aren't that into me, but i'm pretty sure it's something i say that causes that. for instance i was exchanging emails with this guy who said o, yr a poet? maybe you can help me find my soul, a succubus took it and put in her marsupial pouch. so i wrote this poem directly for him



the succubus didn't take your soul
nor put it back again
the things that we think take our gold
we give to, like refrain

if in a pouch you fear your soul
resides, then my advice
is make the hunt your only goal
or better, make it twice.

and when you find yourself in woods
deep and cold and dark
hunting vainly for the goods
in which you've placed your spark

you may find your treasure
is with you, all around
if you forego forms of measure
to listen for its sound.

it takes silence, and good will
it takes laughter,climbing hills
out of darkness into light
you will find your own soul's might



well, he totally deleted all his correspondence with me! i thought it had a good message but aparently NOT.

o. so. per. plexed.

Thursday, May 21, 2009

taradiddle

driving home from my sister's wedding when the first call
comes, you're starting a band with larry the cable guy
who you just convinced to buy
not one but two kick ass guitars ,that
way you can make money giving
him and junior
lessons, make that three guitars
cuz little larry got the matching one for
smaller hands now you're both
celebrating at the porthole
with drinks, he's buying and i'm
negotiating with the eighteen
wheelers outside of alachua, when
will you be back
you insist, are you coming back
tonight? i am currently 300 mi from home
but yes, i'll be there by one a.m. yes i'll call you
when i get there buh bye now, but you can't
wait-- outside of ocala
as i'm stopped for gas at a 7/11 the one
you may have been rescued in that time you ODd on tylenol
and vodka, i dunno it was
before i met you but
the resonance rings
loud as my phone and you sound drunker just
how many
drinks did larry buy you
? don't worry bout that i talked
i got it covered get this larry
is psyched , we are gonna rock you're either with me or
you're left behind you know it's a community
thing, we gotta get together
on this and i'll be there in an hour
and a half dammit
we can talk then but right now i gotta
line of traffic to get back into buhbye
third call
is just outside tampa, the fog is up
at the rest area, it looks like you
sound: misty, dreamlike, full of possible
car wrecks and swirling miracles are you home yet
i gotta come over. twenty minutes seriously
your voice is low and urgent and slurred so ok
i'm home
you stand in the kitchen, the fan revolves sickeningly above
your head, you sway, and sway some more like a man
on a rope you say what you see
in front of you is a ghost. the actual me is back
in my apartment with a bag over his head the actual me
died tonite
you sneer, he's dead. i touch you to convince
you you're lying but you insist no!
i called daddy tonite and daddy's gonna make it
all alright he's taking care of the rent
so i wrote a li'l check to amscottTM and you gotta see
what i bought; disappear
outside
i hear the jeep's door slam, then sounds of clunk
and wrestle from the kitchen window maybe
it's a new guitar, maybe you have a drunken
stirpper, maybe...you struggle with the door handle i could
help but i'm not gonna, i just want to sit
down and smoke a bowl, you
stumble in holding a box
with a round object inside and a tap
on top. you set the ball of beer
down on the floor, wipe blearshifting eyes
go back outside and return with
an unopened fifth of jack daniels, i don't understand
i say, your dad sent you money? NO, you dont LISTEn
to me i told you , i cashed a check at amscot
daddy will take care of me he said he said
and i'll be just like all those other frat boys
in izods & khaki with a fifty
dollar hair cut so
you proceed to try to use your ghosty
hands to insert the tap into the ball o beer but
it's not going in cuz you're too drunk
to see come ON l help me
with this thing but i don't drink beer
you owe me four hundred dollars
and you kite a check for THIS? and i wave
the bottle of jack in your face yelling I DRINK TEQUILA
you selfish fuck and if you think you're going to
drink anymore in my house
without me
then take your ball of beer out of my kitchen don't even
try to put that mess in my fridge get it out of here
right now so you put
your face in your hands crying daddy
is gonna turn me into an upstanding citizen daddy
said he'd help me but i'm just a ghost now
can't you see that, i need this medicine cuz i'm
just a ghost and i'm lying back in my apartment
hanging from the closet by a belt so i
relent and after you take the ball o beer out
to the jeep, we watch the first episode
ever of the twilite zone on cbs.com
where i, naturally, fall asleep and you
drunkenly
do too. we've been cuddling and my neck
hurts when i get up, push you out
of the couch, say i'm going to bed
do what you want, but you stretch n say think
i'll go home now. in the morning
i think of calling you
to let you know jack's still here in his brown wrapper but
instead, when you call i tell you can have it
when i get my four hunnert dollahs. maybe
the government will bail it out.

Tuesday, May 19, 2009

billiards

i grieve the lost
city of atlantis buried
under silt & lives lost long
years ago, curdled in time.

it's not meant-to-be that bothers
me so much as the purpose of the meaning
i mean if god's just shooting pool
and i get run over by the seven ball
on my way to the beach then wtf? i should
worship that overgrown pan?
it'll happen if i chose it or not in fact
choice doesn't enter into the room
in fact there is no room in fact
the act may seem random
but there is a deliberate aim
and the player is the master
winning a bet with herself.

Monday, May 18, 2009

comma anticipating periods

comma anticipating periods

begin with a flurry of feathers, suspended
in blessed rain, a throttle of hot hunger

in fleshless pieces on the ground, outside
the morning coffers. the cat picked the feathers

clean, ate the bones, ants got the rest. rain on
the fire escape to wash your vomit clean you were

every demon in my arsenal, you were grope
and drunk and short on cash. but, and here's

the thing, hank, you had balls. you were a force, reckoning
booted twice from the same party, the pockmark

on a sullied fame whore shill. you call that a poet? you
whisper in my ear then turn to the stage FUCK you! poet i'll

show you poet. lean into me, say "you know that for some
years now there's been demons and angels guiding me". i 've witnessed

your scars, your unaccountable good luck, your leaps
of faith, performances in a straight jacket, but never you

this drunk-- i don't recognise, i think you're just being vera
i don't know hank's taken over until much later so right now i watch

the poet onstage, you drift away, to the front of a sparse crowd, settle
motishly between the speakers in front of the man, in tie dye, purple

mouthed blue headband, soaked in benedictive rain dance
at the beginning, in the plaza, sung by sarah with the voice of two joans

and beer was your friend: you might need to take a load off, the stage
light bounces off your reflective glasses and just as the poet disses slavery your

arms shoot out from your sides in a crucifix, your legs stiffen and jut into
the dance floor, the kids next to me eye me curiously i shrug and say she

might have had a bit too much to drink but i know you're just reacting
to the poetry of the stage it's been too long since you held that lover

in your arms and when he says gun you mime gun and when he says kill
you mime blown out brains and when he says jesus you light up, transcendent

and flying with your wings held in his word's winds, stretched and crossless &
eyeless in purple glasses and when he finishes the lights go down

and you're gone, taking applause for granted, bowing
to no one. later you try to take the mic and the real poets cry vera!

veeeeeeeeeeeeera!

but you are not allowed to speak tonght, tonight you are the voiceless
cry of god, reacting to poetry. the scheduled poet takes your

mic, so you settle comfortably on the stage's edge only now
security is not having it, no hank, this is going too far you've made

a spectacle of yourself and a mockery of poetry you call that
poetry?! you mime fuck YOU you are passive resistance a distraction

from the hot dancer chick spilling her touch me tough story the girl
whose place you would have if you were not busy being angels

for the demons in these brick walls if you were not agreeing to non
chalantly walk away from the stage fuck these soulless posers, brush

them off , flies buzzing. you have a beer to finish, some hot young girls
to hit up for poetry and i still want to see the guy from l.a.

the one with the hat , guitar and voice he's been hanging out
nearby watching it all, perplexed at the absurdities called forth

by poet number two now compounded by poet number four
invoking your name, vera come to open mic night next saturday

so you come toward the stage, as an acolyte walking between
the pews to the altar, you stand below, looking up, you begin

with kneeling, place your forehead against the wood
of the platform, embrace and run your finger over the edge

stand, turn, and sit. security is instantly at your side, the man
on stage watches as they place hands on you, you go limp this is the hour

for non violent reaction to the poetry this is the moment for levitation
and it comes in the words of god, from the stage "guys, guys it's

alright, let her stay". and you do, you stay for this poem.
then it's you and three security guys, w ho have enough! already

in a parade of fools out the door. the blonde man is apologetic
because you have tears your crying saying i'm just reacting to the poetry

it's my REACTion to the poem lynze tell him i was only reacting to the poem
and i look in his eyes, as the witness, & say yes, she was just reacting to the poem.

we leave but you're still crying, hank, saying fuck them they don't know they don't know
how much i kicked and screamed not to come back, not to be here again, but FUCK THEM

i'm not coming back ever again, not in two thousand years not two million
this is the last goddamn time i'm doing this, i AM OUTTA HERE

it's a heavy burden god placed on me you don't understand you don't understand
you don't understand, but i do it for love. you understand, don't you? you don't

understand.


(shit, must change line breaks to be couplets entire)

heatwave

i was the girl with the girl
who got way too drunk
and got onstage with the poets
had a religious experience
should have left after that but
she wouldn't give me the keys
so we hung out some more
she had another beer, i had another
drink spilled on me but what the hell
i'd already gotten soaked in the downpour
that played during the first band
we saw, the one where i didn't realise
how messed up she was i really didn't get it
till after she began pawing me during
the blues act, i got it then, but
after we found the port a potties i thought
she'd be alrite & since they opened
the cuban club up for more people to get in
she insisted it was too early to leave
so we climbed the fire escape to the smoking
area where i danced to the band with the horns
playing in the plaza, playing the girl
in the cage with my eyes closed which led
to my embarrassing moment where i goosed
a guy in the ballroom during the vodkanauts & thot
how fitting that they were playing lounge metal
while she was almost passed out from consuming
their namesake and its cousins

the florida hills

sit in my sky
lowry and flowry
water borne and bearing

soft song of sift on a roof
pebbles dripping between
pane and frame. i would

cuddle with you under these
sibilant cliffs again the way
we did when all our roads
were solid clouds.

Thursday, May 14, 2009

on the back of a yellow reciept

i forgot all the poems i wrote
on the way into work, but not the camera
cable i needed for a work
related upload. profound thoughts
collect on the floor of the car
between browned spring
leaves and ciggie butts.

i wanted to tell you
something about learning lessons
on a journey, something about hard
work. listen, if it's work
it's sposed to be hard.

if i accept
that to not accept
my role means many will
understand then this fool sits
alone on the same hill as you
my fellow travel, my campadre, my distance.

Wednesday, May 13, 2009

drat

one of my favorite bloggers
just deleted her blog.

she's slacker generation
i like her sensibility, she was
my music source. all angsty
and post ironic. she'd heard of kratom
before jack. and she liked to laugh
at herself. i never linked to her
tho i did have her bookmarked

linking to her would have made her
uncomfortable. i think it's best
for some people to not peek from
behind oz's curtain. there's so
many people out there.
in the battle between rabbit vs mouse
we have lost a worthy adversary
and so must question the assertion of winning
the deed of intertal, the sent to the gods.ssssssss

Monday, May 11, 2009

homeless

in my mind i've placed you as my missing
puzzle piece. you don't quite fit
there's edges crennelated like angel wings
on sugar cookies. jacob & i baked some
last night. this morning they are stiff
enough to dunk in strong espresso
french vanilla non dairy creamer
colors the bitterness pecan or halle berry.


i've been on this search for a man
i could place my love into.
i realized all along that this was a futile gesture.

yet i had to do it. perhaps to simply prove
to myself that i would be able to love a man again.
that this torn and pumping ligament
still functions. i think i've found him in you
but perhaps all i've found is the ability
to love myself enough to trust what we have
when we have it. i feel at peace today. i know
you won't call. doubt you think much
doubt you think at all
about me. it's not time to think about me.

still, i wish that you would. i place thoughts
in your head, dream of you as if i had the power
to conjure there beside you in your bed with my strangers.


i tried to go out with 4 other guys
since i met you. they all fell thru
and i was thankful .
another knocks at my IM. i close the window.


perhaps the wind's stopped waving at me.
perhaps desire can be sublimated into the push of air
rising in a funnel, keeping the the wing's arc steady
in a gyration spoken by chicken hawk.

they are such ugly cumbersome birds
when they aren't skyborne
and in the evening, when the sky shoots
the sun into a broken prism
i look up, and find them circling
and circling still, on the thin gray edge
of the evening, as if they don't need a roost
against the coming darkness.

Sunday, May 10, 2009

impetus on mommy's day

i have bills to pay.
calls to answer a date
to prepare. plan a was iffy and plan b
definite. irony for lunch again.
that and dancing with the ants.

i want to lay on a beach alone
with my children. i have sacrificed
trust for lent, and haven't taken
it up again. your please

falls on learned muteness, my
deafness is ringing in my ears.
i don't know what you think you can give me now
besides more of the same. i call you past
a full moon and you're crying because
you are still a man.

now those lessons i taught you about cycles
and fertility come to mind. which was what
trying to get online? didn't use protection
so the matrix comes, decline. isn't that what
you wanted, for some way divine?


anywaze.















the bills fall off the hope chest.
a little chit a little chat. a li'l wheat
a li'l shaft. at the party again the prize
on display. who will grab that ass
and take it home tonite. the moon she smiling
like a promise. not to be not to be. the prize
wins itself, leaving like a woman with a man
waiting for her at home.
















you said to me that's black magic
and i said we all like the night.



you wanted me to stop. i tripped
upon the stair, spilled the strawberry

frozen drink in my right hand, so i gave
you the one in my left. it took a while

for me to see the big dipper. music waved
loud and soft, depending on the position

of the sliding glass door. i couldn't
explain to you the way unconsciously

i have to not believe in something in order
for it to manifest. i am not allowed

acknowledgment of desires because they're
still desires. i must believe what i say

only when i say it. i can hope in the moment
after,that i am wrong. so very wrong. believe me

that wrongness is how i want to be proven. inverted.
flip sides. poles that exist, holes that persist.

the emptiness is what drives the vortex. let's
take the plastic and recycle it,momma needs a new brush.

i think you have one of my socks

but you can keep it. i have one just like it
pining for a mate. it looks lonely, folded over
in the corner so i say hey sock
want to go to open mic tonite but sock
won't answer. pouting because it suspects
that i know something about
what happened to the other one. no, really
i don't. i think you have

one of my socks
but since we haven't spoken
in a while, i don't know. it wasn't winter
when we stopped i remember the way
waves were the soundtrack and fireworks
popped and we talked about grilling
when it was all done

but neither of us wanted
to brave the grocery store again so i went for
pizza and you went for a walk and when you
came back you were gone , it was
sometime in the summer, so sox were
not on my mind, not even red ones.

Saturday, May 09, 2009

Monday, May 04, 2009

stand up and say it's wrong

i spent enough
time on civilization
to understand how to be emperor
in my own country. kings
and the battle of wills.

i want to be a demagogue, overthrow
the structure, bring the rabble
to the rubble making. punch the prettier
face saying the same old thing.

truthiness is the pragmatism that plants
itself in ethic's garden. facts
are what i'm figuring, can't change
the water in your face. extremities

on the edge of scud missiles, binge
purge, it's the stuff of life. i still
don't know what i want to be when
i grow a dictatorship.

borrow pit

there's ghosts on my fingers
smell of gun powder, beagle howl.
daddy said i needed to learn
how to be a man. in the spring
there were tracks in his arms
chased by a bank. mom

took my baby brothers and ran
but they didn't get far. after
i heard the shots, i crouched
like he taught me in the deer
blind, i was zigzagged wings
on ducks flying over early

morning lakes. i guess he forgot
how to sight movement , maybe
he was ready for the easier target

monday

i lose the manufacturing order
on my way to the gum, interrupted.

pick up the soldering iron
and a small wood sprite runs across
my finger. she's dressed in spider.

i forgot to turn off the computer on friday.
it cycled all weekend with nothing to do.

on the floor by the pink
stained chair
a lizard corpse
upside down
covered in dust.

wtf?

labiaplasty????

seriously????

Sunday, May 03, 2009

embedded!!!



well, that was easy...

Labels:

Saturday, May 02, 2009

gumbo & dirty rice

there is a box, defining.
on the outside of the box
is the definition of box
next, a box with a definition.
put in the box with other boxes one
is outside the inner box
boxed. say a word enough times
it looks wrong. language boxes
on the corner lunch table, grain & stew & spices.
psychoetry flowetry under the nola tree.
half of that's stolen, boxed & buried
not itself yet not something else yet
a why is as good as a ribbon.
raise one side, another add lid
as appropriate. the question
continues the answer
anxiously awaits a package
to be folded into
as if it already existed, complete with cat.