mouse games

the kettle's on
dishes washed
cuppa jo in the a. m. whilst
standing & tipping at my new
desk ,  the top
of a chiffarobe i'm so tall i spill
into mountains i'm so small i fit into seas

but where's my coffee now, ay?

i think that standing may be the way
i'll have to write now. though honestly
the pain's still here. fuck now what do i do?
move this silly netbook from tip to top?

i spose that could be arrranged except
the key board. i'd write a review of this netbook
but i have nothing to compare it to.
i mean it's  fine as far operations
just a bit glitchy with chat sometimes but
the keyboard and the mouse are too close
and if i use the netbook keys i continually
backspace which really messes
with the flow. so on top of shooting hip pain
and dull knife ankle throb
i have to contend with wildly
divergent placements of the cursor
not where i want to be but where
the machine places it when my thumb
comes to close the ultra sensitive mouse
so, it's either an outboard mouse
or a standard keyboard. thing is there's no way
to disable the netbook mouse so
it's keys. now my i'm tired of standing so
what do i do?

move to the desk, sit on the ball for a while.

it's bouncity. like tigger.































*



but what i wanted to say was the sunrise
this morning was spectacular i watched it
from inside the arrow, a vector moving east
then south toward alleviation. my morning
ibuprofen kicks in just about the turn
into the winn dixie parking lot
to avoid the light , rounding to the stop
sing which i ignore, the arrow turns into simple
ache. outside clears, mist on the big yellow
school bus a fairy trolley.

after the drop, when i've shifted the clutch
at least a hundred times, endured the grinding
of ligament and the stretching of bone
to the point of null, i can watch the huge oak
on the curve move into the pastel wakening
where autos are purposeful fireflies
settling  clusters of morning and movement and order.

hat's nt really how it is
i'm frustrated with language's limitations
how scent and touch can't be imbued
how sight is only in the head how sound mingles
with happening, the garbage scow's moaning
brakes: voices from my lumbar.  this is where punctuation
becomes a useful tool. a way to introduce nuance
and precision into what otherwise can be multiplicity.


















































*


now let's talk about you. always a you
in my life, even when no one's there.


you smile and say you're like my younger sister.
this bothers me. it's not exactly what i want to hear
but i don't think i want to hear i love you either.
so what's my problem? oh , i thought
this might be about you but no,
my problem is why am i not good enough
to love?  that hasn't gone away , why
is it no one wants to be wtih me can't stop
thinking bout me the way
i am about you?
huh?






you and i are so much alike and you and i are so much
different. this is why we belong together.
or could but see i'm not
your ideal so she is out there waiting for you
to dive passionately into the deep.
go now, find her. stop wasting your time with me.
sure, pleasure is hard
to leave but come on, what stasis
it brings. no drive. just come back for more
pleasure.pleasure. put the mind on hold.


you are reading a people's history of the united states.
you are coming to terms with the implications of your trade.
you are buffing up and mellowing out, gettin that florida tan.
paradise doesn't call, she seeps into your skin and sings
you a lullybye as she pulls you into her swamp roots
and you become the water in her synapse, the tannin in her tea.




i have to work now. i won't be thinking of you
i'll be thinking of beam splitters and peel back tape
the ache in my ankle the spit in my spine.
;etting sensation thwart the thoughts
that used to bring me
to tears

on the floor

things are kind of quiet, what with the pres
 dying and all the political
maneuvering goin on, the big
guys are gone. olga sings
off key, a song in spanish. maria and she
must be listening to the same
station cuz everyonce in a while maria
joins in and then the harmonies
make olga sound good.



is it time to move on? every day
the astology site sends me
that question. is he avoiding
you? is another one i get a lot.

yes and yes and yes yes yes.
ok, we harmonized when we were
in the same song but way
too often i was off key
and you were playing some other tune.
meh is where i'm headed
and about time.

why do i feel like you're the only one
who can make me sing again? still? st.ill.
for sure. tgif makes me long
for tenderness, but i succumb instead
to pleasure pleasure. i can't really
bitch about the consolation prize.
at least it's not tearing my heart out
day by day. just a bit of
why can't we go there, again?
o. yeh. you just got out
of a long termer. gotta have some freedom
so you understand you got nothing
left to lose.   well i guess i'll try to stay philosophical
cuz these sensations need a bit of thwarting.
wonder if wonder will be enough for the coming static?

on the floor, the noise level rises. it's close to lunch
and we're waiting on the bell to tell us we're hungry.
i like determinism. it's comforting to know
when you're sposed to do something , it's helpful
to know when  you're due for something. my
shrinking belly knows   about hunger now
she learned it all from my heart,
packaged up tightly. shoved in a box.
surviving on air and the incredible itself-future.

your five minutes are up

 he



listen i'm giving you all kinds of escape hatches
all the doors open, just step in and see what's up

so she drives up in this faded honda civic some color
between oil spot and bruise, dent in the driver's front quarter
panel, i'm a car person you can tell a lot about people
from their cars, that's why i like to sell them, makes me
feel good to get someone driving a sweet deal . it's frankly
scummy inside, i wish i had some alcohol to wipe it down
but i'm inside with my six pack of mike's hard cuz she said
she likes mikes hard,but i mean i \
recognise her from her  pix but somehow in 3d she's
less than ideal or even head turning. it's the same woman tho
so maybe it's the car, i like my things in their place
and this car is a pigsty.  plus up close she really
looks fifty i don't wanna say old but she could get some
work done , dye her hair, do her nails, and i can see
why she hired a personal trainer but she's got a way to go yet
and i just don't want to spend my time waiting around for
that. so she asks and i say well you can stay and party
but i'm walking home tonight. she takes a swig of the mikes
shakes her head,  and puts it back into the six pack
and walks away, nodding,  says, ok, thanks for the papers.



 she



i don't think that was even five
seconds she thinks on the drive home
taurus horns in the clouds
all purply and pink, sun eye blazing
like rut gone postal

it was like, as soon as he got
in the car. he made up his mind
that fast. i could have asked him
why but i don't really care. if it's not
there, it's not there. i know my pix
are accurate with the right people.

excuses excuses monkey girl.
he had the look of a trapped man
and the breath of a boozer.
if it was some game i was sposed to play
no thanks. and if it was anything else
i'm not gonna change it for him.
or any man. see. i could play the saviour

or the hot pink therapist, but the masks
are so fragile, held on with string and spit
and anyway, ugh. all i wonder is
was i sposed to try to get him to want me?
and why would i do that again?

five s's in possessions

1.


we are looking for you
why are you still hiding we are
seeking you in the crannies behind
the berry bushes, flowering
like desire burst from your fingers




2


oh 21 how may your lessons
differ from mine? a learnt thing
that doesn't rhyme, benisons
unheeded, misdeeded, ring-

a hollow shell, struck a thousand
times. r u hott r u hott how would
i know, time is a bastard, our sand
begets the flow. lessons i could

lessons you should, these things exchanged.
the teacher is the student, this is arranged.











3









the center is pollen and bee stripe, sun seed
re movement. her skirt is a white quintet.
she gives me all colors, combined.
once i step into the quincunx , embraced
once i step on it, erased.








4



what did i know of love before i met you?
songs that tore at my heart without flesh
deeds that would be done to me by me through me
what did i know of love before she came to me
willing and begging and commanding her stone?
and what do i know of love, now?















5


she is the octopus tentacle
she is the beak birded, the sheep herded
she is is not she is the wrought , written
in skin and chemistry, the me hidden from you
the you pulsing toward me the we that is one
fucking self , mais anon.

fast foward into today

yeah so the streets are stained
green after the fall. let it rain.
a couple days ago the trees put
on kelly green skirts over   radioactive
parking lots. all this seems familiar
some cycle of rebirth where i burn the dead
like florida sun burns  pollen pods.

i don't know why you contacted me
but i'm ok with that. i don't know if
you'll ever contact me again, and i'm
trying to put expectations in their place~
some other plane of existence.

gawd  will i ever use a different referent for consenual realities?









*(&


so i scanned for butterflies but only the orange ones
are out today. the wind is march hare in april, where may
has come a few weeks early and the flowers think
the bees stopped hibernation. i think i'd like a fuschia bush
for easter. oh. it's come and gone. still...










*(&


yeah, i'm just passing time till you get bored and use an exit.
















































































































*&(

still with me? k well listen.

i don't understand how it is
but at least i know
that it is.

that's progress.



diana keeps throwing brass stars
and they keep missing by a couple cms.

i mean cake tried to tell me a while back
but all i wanted to do was eat it.  still,
never there is the same all over the place.

so let me push those visions of you on a skateboard
into the pond. let me erase your smile like yr an inverted
 wonderland cat.. let me dammit, why don't you let me?




















*(&



fine, i'll do it without your help.
that's help enough for me.
never ever ever ever there.

hey

crack open at your core

she realizes her role one evening
as the sun's faint glow fades, her granddaughter
watching with new eyes. most recently

\
that sweet feeling of belonging, believing
which swells in a caress. she fell into it
momentariy like quicksand over toes.
she keeps her head free, rescues the beating wings
struggling for purchase, the move across the surface
of his lake , reflected but not felt. the beat of air
and the violent silence of the leaving.

/

he reacts to the folding
a kite rushing away on the wind
string breaks free.


she once  believed to love her
is to crack open at his core.
now she knows the fissure
goes both ways. she holds
the stone together with a sigh.




s
o tired of this
healing you
for another woman.

what the fuck is wrong with the one before you?


oops she said fuck
she said wtf
she said
















*&76

reasons to run. everyone of them a story
on yesterday's reality show. bang a boson,
date a yellow jacket. scorpion in your cock.
it never sells to steal verbatim. you have to make it yours.
the sky refracted into a prism becomes a hand of god.
paranormal panduit. parsimonious harmony. the season
is not in session sir. you've lived another year
what are you waiting for?














*(&



she rubs cocoa butter on her lips
it's not for you. it's for the rastafarian embrace.
nicotene beauty, the saints that didn't know better.

when you call her again you find she's the same
only more cautious. the rust issue never sleeps
and she knows you're weary of unbridled cliche
but she doesn't care  . she likes the shorthand
distance they supply. a finger for your third eye.













&^&^&^













something else she learned about love.
tis a much harder mistress than the muse.
he uses up as much as you have you have you have
some sad affair, none of these thoughts
habits. babbits. habbits. how difficult it was
for you to pull air into your lungs, the way
her breath made you wheeze , overexcited
stimulated to drowning, simulated to owning,
the shells you grab to cover the lack of sails
tired and sleeping way past the dream's expiration date.
































*&^^^




so we waited on the bench a little while longer.
penned the goodbye note. stuck it with a match
struck it with a lighter. sent it on the river boat
with a pair of aces and feather boa. it was funny
if you were there, which you weren't.

this man this man thinks he would be settling for you.
fuck that. i am so past his league he cannot imagine
that's my goddess. he carressed your dwindling belly
as if pregnacy were immanent. he fell in love
with a moment. then the next life called, so he went.
you keep wondering what takes him so long.
so long goodbye my friend. door is to the right.

or the left. we're an equal opportunity hot pink room,
you get to chose. you stay . you are stasis and silence
he is leaving and widow's walk. hurry colombus
the ship sails at midnight's noon. move along, nothing
interesting here.

longboat funeral of your letters

I just want to place some ashes there,
to prod it out to the middle with a pole

The longboat funeral of your letters
and the letting go 

--entering the desert



you are slash and whip
sharp teeth and drawn passion
waterlogged wood written in red
a dissolution in anemic acid
drunk up thru roots a slake of sundrench
and humid half moon nights.

i tell you i do not want
to write you again.

gather all of the words we once exchanged
add to them my fire, your oxyconton
a cyan neon signature , alleles
and attributes of sparks. you always
were the good consumer, light it up
let's see this sucker burn.

l0l @ ggl's vwl shrtg

and a happy foolish day to everyone .