feat accomplished

it's not so much that i'm
down to rubble, more
that i'm almost indifferent
to indifference.
pandora's last evil still
haunts , but the electro
static stratosphere doesn't register
any thing resembling full bodied
much less full blooded, on its way
to becoming a fond memory.

bout time i owned one of those
instead of merely being one.

all the women you meet
you say, don't want a for real guy
they're all giddily chosing
their choices for tonite,
then moving to someone new
next week. i wonder
if it's just lack
of attraction but i don't
want to bring you down.
do no harm - a thoughtway
that appears as well as a wish.





unawares i breathe in thousands of souls
and kill them. awares, i change focus
stop speaking to you, in particular,
you'll have to bandage yourself up
with no help, my hands are tied
up with commitments to myself.

gettin, at last, used to it.
a 32 year old scar
memento of the first
lesson in adulthood
after momma died
and daddy went a bit
crazy. no one's gonna take care of you
but yourself snickers the sly smile
cut under the knuckle
a sign, a sign. you always ignored us
so don't whine.



you were in the car with me
but i had to drive myself to the hospital
blood oozing all over the shifter.
i didn't know that's not how love acts.
then again, you hadn't said i love you.












was the sex really that good?














i dunno. what the fuck did i know?








*(&


at the kitchen, making chicken, fried
for the second time this week, gramma
watched me teach lili how
to scoop the flour, add spices, stir.
in the 1965 kitchen, i stood on a chair
while gramma made the biscuts
in bowl in the sink with oil, egg and flour.
was it self rising or plain
i don't know. i don't make them.
ours come in the can. gramma pinches the dough
it plops thru the mouth of her thumb and palm
firm and round. a fistful.
she squeezes them in rows, nestled with
just enough cleavage to keep them
pullable, biteable.








(*((

do you remember any of the poems
i wrote into your ears? i don't.
i can't even remember what
we spoke of as we lay in bed
each involved in our own machine.
you read to me, i read to you.
some news of the day.
a discussable metaphysical point.

it was a fine model
for the kind of soft love
i'd like to inhabit with you.
but the barriars you carry
are effective as are mine.
as a woman, you wanted to be kept
swept up in jewels and hedonism
with a man's appetites and morals.
welcome to your wishes.

























(7



what feat is it
when you stop wanting
the impossible?