Ah, 1994.
A Gradual Decline
Alias
Always
Bald Spot
Black Widow
The Brunette
Calorific Sins
Can’t Believe He Said Hello
Cinaplex
Crazy Eights
Crazy Eights II
Crevasse
Cro-Magnon Love
Dog
Eggrolls
Fistftul of Fur
Good Stuff
Green Boy
I Will (Not)
I Would if I Could but I Can’t…
Jake Says
Licking
Luscious Melancholy Face
Mariposas
Matt I
Matt II
Men (a.k.a. Complications)
Moderation
My Mother Still Loves Me
No Rules
Oh, God Little Vixen
Older
On Moaning and Backhandsprings
Photo
Piquant
Public Displays of Affection
Richard’s Rain
Scrooge Karma God
Sean Told Me…
Shakespearean Vengeance
Sly and Tipped
Splashing
Strange Days
Stupid Girl, Inc.
Suicide
Theocritus Once Said
Tic Tac Toe
Tinker-Toy
Unbroken Chain
Virtuosa
Ween
Where We Run When We Cry
Why Bother?
Yeah
A Gradual Decline
I never thought
that I could find someone
so seemingly perfect and wonderful
someone so exquisite
Yes, exquisite
Delectable
I think I should like you
to dominate me
I think I should like that very much
I would like to run away with you
into a crystal bubble
I would like to kiss you 1,000 times in public
I would like to take this pain, which is controlling my step
and throw it from some great height
just so that I could watch it
make a horrid bloody mess
when it hit the ground
I should like very much
I’m sure
to tie you in knots
so that you might be susceptible
to my kicks
the same kicks dealt
by your pouting mouth
I should like very much
to tear this kissable
pouting mouth
right off your fucking face
I do not particularly care
for your delectable
pouting mouth
to spit its atrocities onto my waiting head
I do not quite crave
your shifty eyes
set on my chest
and various other parts of my anatomy
I should like very much
to break you apart into teeny bits
and devour you over the course of years
I think I should benefit noticeably
from running you through
again and again
with a double-edged sword
So gather
my friend
your pouting mouth
and pick up your wandering eyes
now take them to someone who gives a damn
Alias
Miss Me says
you can visit her humble abode
if you care to
where sweetness hangs in the air
like a sick cloud and
drips off the backs of chairs onto her
very spotless carpet and
Mr. You says to
Miss Me
that she should move into his apartment
where women are discarded tissues
strewn about the kitchen
like a newly fallen snow
avalanche
Mr. Him winks at Miss Her and sings
What’s shakin’ baby?
Miss Her begins to blush
then takes her clothes off,
C’mon, she whispers, To hell with god.
Miss Stupid says to Mr. Manipulator
Will you step on my head for a while please?
Mr. You and Miss Me are no longer bunking together
Mr. Manipulator smiles and says, I love you
Miss Stupid believes every word
Always
Here I am 12:06 AM Christmas day
surrounded by empty gift boxes
and plenty of new material possessions to horde
like I am a squirrel
How was your Christmas eve
Sometimes I want to call
just to know if you’re home...
it wouldn’t matter to me
if you hung up right away
I sat inside the car for an hour
around the corner from my house
in the parking lot of some private school
and chain-smoked eight or nine cigarettes
then drove around in the rain
because I liked it and wanted to
It’s nice to be in a car alone
when the windshield wipers are on
Then I came across that STUPID
Bon Jovi song on the radio
(the one with the video that makes me think of you and I
and suicide)
so these tears swelled up in my eyes
and I had to stop in the middle of the road
to turn the dial, but like an episode of The Twilight Zone
the song wouldn’t die out or go away
and when I tried to open up the door, it wouldn’t budge an inch
Did I mention that the song was repeating itself
then realizing I was out of cigarettes I carried out
the only possible plan of solution
and drove myself over the nearest cliff
(much to the dismay of No One)
well...maybe that’s not all true...
but the song really did come on
and I really DID run out of cigarettes
and THEN I cried...
but the rest is just wishful thinking
Bald Spot
He has a small
square bald spot
on the left side of his head
I’d make fun of him
if I knew how
But all I can do is stare
and fail miserably
at being inconspicuous
because all his friends notice
I know what they’re thinking
That doesn’t matter
they never liked me to begin with
I stare and stare
and wonder just how
a perfect one inch square
of his beautiful black hair
has been removed from his head
A love offering for the buxom blonde bitch
everyone’s talking about
Experimental haircut?
He may be creating a very genuine wig
for a few dollars of cigarette money
But I guess I won’t ever know
from where the inspiring bald spot came
because I’ve never had the courage
to look in his eyes anyhow
Black Widow
Alone
(again)
Here I am
in the back parking lot
near a small outdoor coffeehouse
I’m not especially fond of
But what can I do?
I broke my first heart
and it wasn’t nearly as exciting
as I had thought it would be
I was hoping for blood shed
and a renewed feeling of liberation…
those things you come to expect
when you crush the soul
of another human being
entirely
I expected power
and a remorseless lust
to ravage my body
I expected inch-long claws
and razor-sharp fangs
to replace my dull fingernails and canines
I expected a little more
than what you’ve given everyone else
so that I can have it in my favor
when I am before some kind of mental jury
pleading insanity
and begging absolution
I expect you to understand
that I am no little woman
and will not be treated as such
and if you beg to differ
I will have you on a plate for breakfast
I expect the president to know my name
by the end of his term
I expect people to step on me
so sometime soon
I’m going to buy a spiked helmet and a gun
I expect the buttons on expensive shirts to stay put
I expect that knock on the front door
to be a UPS man
with a package from a handsome, intelligent, understanding, sensual, passive, humorous and meek admirer
(who plays the piano)
I expect you to hate me
I expect to have very bad karma for what I have done
I expect to read this
years from now
and forget
who it was
that you are
The Brunette
If you need me
I’ll be right over here
Eating my heart out
It’s fine
really
I’m just waiting for enough tears
to rain out of heaven
to drown me
And the morning comes
to drag me on
into another day
I detest almost as much
as I am beginning to detest you
You have shot me in the wing
with an up and coming kiss
knocked right out of my tree
While helpless
you captured me
in a white handkerchief
with my initials embroidered in a corner
You bastard
I wish death upon you
I wish a slow
painful
treacherous death
on your head
and with it
as many tears as I have shed
as much horror as you have inflicted upon me
The countless diamonds
underneath your skin
are no longer of value to me
because I am moving on
to smaller
and less important things
and this
is all that matters
Calorific Sins
Yes
and after so long
you are back with me
not me with you
you’re back with me
and someone somewhere
is laughing at me
for one reason or another
Right now I have time
with time to spare
Yes
a bottomless inkwell
is all I want
or care to extract from this life
Noting the intricacy
of our well-worn
homely doormat
I am forced to wonder
how I will make it to next Friday
without drowning in self-pity
along with a gallon or two of Rocky Road
and gluttony is nice
if it’s fattening
or leaves almonds in your teeth
Can’t Believe He Said Hello
Walked by him just now
on my way to the bathroom
and he whistles at me
then everything is back
the lie
the kiss
the face I could not forget
It’s like a silent film good vs. evil
only I’m enamored of the villain
who smiles
and winks his one good eye
as if he has nothing to hide
I know better
Still there is this contempt
within me for him
and the game he played with me
Go directly to jail
Do not pass go
Do not collect $200
Just when I thought it was safe
to go back in the water
here his is in all his glory
teeth bared and ready
to tear the flesh from my bones
like it’s all in a day’s work
but he’s gotten a bad haircut
which balances things out
and makes me feel 100% better
Cinaplex
Maybe I really matter to you
in some small and invisible way
You just chose not to hold me
never hold me
in a room beneath the ground
I must be necessary to you
even if you
don’t let on to me
I wonder how I make it
I wonder how you sit still
through the cinema
alone
but you will
become one day
the man that I need
the boy that I keep
the sun that I watch descend
down the side of my life
leaving this trail of words
shine live snail silver
dripping off your hands
clouding up your eyes
blocking paths of ecstasy
between you
and me
and god
Crazy Eights
There is this pain in my stomach
which turns itself
with every passing moment
I see you sleeping
you looked so like an angel
and all your golden mane
spreads itself
like it has taken on life
around a solemn face
touched by the sun
and soft
like a rock underwater
I have a fascination with the ocean
the way it is a hand
slapping the shore repeatedly into submission
Face spills down into neck
flowing into perfectly sculpted
shoulders and chest
I touch with my eye
again and again
never tiring of the surface ripples
Yes
What can I do
but dream your square hands in mine
Your eyes are closed
to the smallness of my offering
Your perfect little lips twisted into
an elfin smile
Can you feel the heart beat
in my throat?
Are my eyes heavy against your body?
Can you come flow with me?
We are a river if we choose to be
because I just want someone to love
too
Crazy Eights make me smile
Crazy Eights II
There is this pain in my stomach
which turns with every passing moment
I see you sleeping
you looked so like an angel
and all your gold mane
spreads itself
like it has taken on a life of its own
your solemn face
touched by the sun
and soft like a rock underwater
I have a fascination with the ocean
it’s a hand slapping the shore
repeatedly into submission
Face spills down into neck
flowing into perfectly proportioned
silky chest
which I touch with my eyes
again and again
never tiring of the surface ripples
under surveillance yes
what can I do but dream
your square hands into mine
and your eyes are shut to the smallness
of my offering
because I just want someone to love too
Crazy eights make me smile
Crevasse
Things are never what they seem here
where we love to escape to temporarily
and nothing seems pressing or urgent
under colored glass domes
Would you be my valentine
There are always villains
and you know what?
I think I’d like to be the bad guy some day
maybe even a repeat offender
Can they arrest you
for breaking hearts?
Temporary insanity
I swear!
You lie to prevent the loss of something
which was yours to begin with
and forever will be
How could you think
I’d stop following you
The flowers you give
stop me now
Yes
I watch them in her hands
a different one each day
drives me insane
At the very edge of solitude
I pour your words down
and into nothing
which is right where they belong
Cro-Magnon Love
Watch his silhouette
on the tree trunks
so pointed
He can piss off
for it
He’s a goddamned Neanderthal
He is so primitive
he drags his women into caves
by the hair
I might like that
though
He probably doesn’t even cook his food
scoops the baked beans
cold from the can
This man fascinates me?
Dog
Keep an eye on the dog, Casey, keep
an eye on the dog
because he tends to wander occasionally
and make a spectacle of himself up and down the street
howling at no one in particular
and everyone but me
since I’m the only one who loves him
Yeah, he’s real smart aint
he, Casey
chasing his own tail,
he’s a genius
watch out for the eyes,
though , because once he turns
that look on you, there’s no getting out of
the compromise
Listen to me man, I know
what I’m talking about
I been runnin’ after that
damned dog
shooing the flies
and the bitches in heat for so long
and I know him
Just keep an eye on the dog,
‘cuz he’s a tricky bastard
Eggrolls
You on mind
in hands
are warmer than sex
and your laughter
over the telephone
is bouncing off my head
and drifting slowly to the ground
I have a fascination
with the way
you twist your hair
and sometimes shift your weight
to dance back-forward
your apricot face
your hands busy with your pockets
The self-pity I have is sick
but at times almost pleasing
when I smile for him
and cry for you
and hold you both to me
and the whole world could explode
I wouldn’t mind if it blew apart
certain unnamed people
No, I couldn’t give a rat’s ass whether certain people kept on
or spontaneously combusted
but you are sacred and untouchable
closer than flesh to bone
In my dream your hand was spread
and I was welcome somewhere
This was how it came to be
we talked
and talked
and talked
until your nose was numb
our hearts were wed under a canopy
of scented scary flowers
bridge the time
with your words and patience
your apricot face
and busy hands
always busy with your pockets
Fistftul of Fur
There’s more than one way to skin a cat
or so I’ve been told
Well, I’ve tried them all
and the only outcome so far
is me with a fist full of fur
from your back into my hands
caught underneath my fingernails
settling slowly to the ground
and you
more than a little perturbed
slink away into the nearest alley
your tail whipping back and forth
Good Stuff
Near you I am five years old
in the world’s biggest back yard
You are
hot dogs and punch
which gives pink mustaches
at a fourth of July lawn party
You are
cherry flavored candy canes
in the middle of August
You are
the last piece of cake
hidden behind the broccoli spears
You are
clean rain
in my
curling hair
making the sky
a beautiful shade of melancholy
sliding down my naked face
You are
won ton soup and a coke
You are
a fresh pack of cigarettes
I forgot about
then remembered
as I lit up what I’d thought would be the last
You are
a three day weekend
and holidays no one celebrates but we still get off from work
washing down No-Doz with a Jolt Cola
You are anyone everyone all gods postcards pretty stamps useless buttons
all that
then some
and a little bit more
Green Boy
He is lying in the high grass
limbs askew and smile
Here
the breeze lifts his hair
and teases the butterfly collar
of his shirt
like kisses I never gave him
I am sitting in an office building
where the air is still
like bookshelves
and everything is pastel
but the people are still anxious because
on the East wall
there is a window
with no curtains
where everyone sits
and outside in the
high
grass
always he is lying
limbs askew and smile
I Will (Not)
Kindness overflows from the lips
that love me once I knew
how to respond
now I am mystified not necessarily embittered
although I may say so
for lack of better word Somehow
I will become a beggar for him and
I will bring out the sun
at night (if he likes)
I will paint his house
and mow his lawn
walk his dog
I will clean his fish tank
scrub down the kitchen floor
The so-called “labor of men”
The so-called “labor of women”
I will undertake, if it please him
I will write his essays
type his final drafts
be his personal secretary/lackey
I will wash his hair every day
if given the privilege
I will suck the poison
out of his snake bites
I will re-organize his closet
and stack his books in alphabetical order
change his lightbulbs
wipe his windows
massage his feet when they’re tired and
I will not be evil
I Would if I Could but I Can’t…
I cannot believe in something
as seemingly beautiful as you are
I leave behind judgment
on my way to the stars
because it is brilliant there
and me decision or past is unimportant
Motivation and fuel come from somewhere unseen
occasionally
and give me something to write about
But I take back what I said--
you ARE beauty
I would say that you surpass all wisdom
but I do not know you that well
I would say you are kind
but how can I , when you will not show this to me
I would say that I adore you
but I am afraid
I would ask you to hold me
but I know you will not
What then can I say
other than “You are beauty”
Because you are
and you should know this by know
I would that I could expel you from my mind
I wish you that you could accept
what I say
what I cannot say
But you will not
and I can not
and I am broken
for the silence
Jake Says
“Everything happens for a reason”
Jake says
and holds my head while I
cry
all over the table in Beans*
*Beans-The coffeeshop in Whittier where all my dramas were staged
Licking
My big brown head
of hair lifts itself
in the wind
and fills with the cold air
like sponges absorbing
water
I’ve made myself the promise
to keep on trucking
even when it rains
and I want to die
Thin drops of water
invade my space
and crawl down the back of my neck
I always make sure
to stick my black boot
in the passing-by puddles
and giggle like a little girl
The splashes up my skirt
soak into my sock
Cloud kisses
stick on my face
like butterflies
licking repeatedly
and laughing from
time to time
Luscious Melancholy Face
Ice words
warm lips
that part now and then to reject me
Soft skin like wings
clean your feathers
kind face which smiles now
almost as if in recognition
do I bother you
don’t answer
Pour your words into shot glasses
they burn going down
and are bitter
All I want is everything
is that too much to ask?
You alone
for me
I never make a promise
I can’t keep
I want that skin
like wings
I want those warm lips
never to reject me again
I want your marble eyes
Cerulean blue cloudy sky sometimes clear
the teeniest bit of sadness
balances with your honest smile
to create luscious melancholy face
those eyes
dance and sing for me
in these dreams
where you don’t hate me
They smile and invite me
into your hands
it is so simple then
and easy for you to understand me
and I am not a joke
and I don’t have to talk
and I never feel stupid again
because your marble eyes look at me
and like it
I want them
drowning in silk eyelashes
for me
all for me
Your luscious melancholy face
Mariposas
All so fascinating, really
I could chew your ear off
if you’d let me
The eyes which I
have never encountered
dart quickly between
my hands and oblivion
What have we seen tonight?
You lean in
when you speak to me
like you are recounting for me
the story of your first love
I do not impress you
I do not try
I am your average
barbarian and conversationalist
I could chew your ear off
You are every bit
as unusual and challenging
as I had thought you might be
and you like butterflies
I like butterflies
they never have to marry
or pay rent
or do laundry
and people like to look at them
but mostly in jars
or on the ends of pins
which bothers me
Listen to what I say
I have a voice that will
reach the tips of mountains
but only
on the wings
of a monarch
Sipping nectar with your tongue
I know you thrive on the flight
of ideas and words
Newly hatched butterflies unfold
Then as their wings
fill and stiffen
become airborne
in your greenhouse
Your mantra touches
the middle of the earth
where there is no lying
and it is too hot for butterflies
to flutter in and out
Matt I
Just finished watching The Simpsons--
didn’t hear a word they said
I was thinking of you
the whole time
and wishing I’d had
one more night
one more day or a moment, even
in which to express
how the inner light
turns itself on and off
or how you look to me
from this angle
what it meant when
we shook hands
and yours lingered,
your eyes with mine
Somehow everything is brighter
in your presence
and competitors grow dim
I would become for you
anything possible
impossible
outrageous and meek simultaneous
if you would smile at me
sincerely and let
your hand linger
Matt II
I would like to carve
your name with mine
into a tree
Then let the water
wash away the scum under
my fingernails and breastplate
Then let the earth eat away
any impurity I have not yet set aside
for fear of insulting your name
Then let the wind push away
my hand from yours
Then let the sun shine away
from a room somewhere
far above to lift from this tree our
names
Men (a.k.a. Complications)
I came to the conclusion
today
that men only complicate
or slacken the pace of
an otherwise dandy life
My hypothesis was correct
The notion was not misgiven
as so many of mine tend to be
Every predicament to have crossed my path
was carefully, lovingly,
and thoroughly, prepared
by one man or another
From the moment of their first
flamboyant entrance
until their dramatized exit
with another story
and your couch under their belts
they will bat eyelashes
and pucker lips to trip you
into a sticky
evil web
and what else can we do
except try to fall gracefully?
Moderation
I want to stop being used
I want to start getting more phone calls
the morning after
I want to feel the warmth
without drowning in it
I want to have the separation
without being miles apart
My Mother Still Loves Me
She’d be upset if she knew I am here alone
if she knew he and kissed my lips
and walked away
but hell
what can I do
He’s not going to suddenly see the light
and beg my forgiveness
I may as well turn the flashlight off
But she would be upset
She might even tell him off
That would be funny
That would be fucking hilarious
I would laugh, anyway
No Rules
Running around where no one can see us
we circle each other and cry
because it doesn’t get any better than
two rag dolls in the wind
beaten by time and the persistence of memory
We can hide or sit together
in the grass
And no one will say I have a sordid past
And no one will say you are wrong
And no one will patronize us
because no one here is righteous and self-proclaimed
darling
Here no one will eavesdrop and tell all what I say
because there is no one to eavesdrop
And we can be alone in this place
And get drunk in this place
And pass out in each other’s arms in this place
And not be hungover in the morning
Because I am magician
and you are the magic
and without one another
we are nothing
And we can stay up all night
and make the sun rise turquoise if we want
and we can perch in the trees like squirrels
we’ll lie in the shadows
and break all of the rules
they taught us
(and some of the ones they didn’t)
Oh, God Little Vixen
Steal him, little vixen
Kiss him, little vixen
Kill him, little vixen
even if it’s killing me
You know that he could not be
You know I have a knot
in my gut turning tight
with the rythmic tapping of
his lips on your cheek
his lips on your cheek
his lips on your cheek
You survive me
but what can he give me
Now that I have had his all
I want more
he smells like the ocean
his skin is calloused
like a worker’s
He hates vegetables
Older
Ink spot stares at me
like I am a bad girl
I haven’t got the time
to patronize everyone
but most of them I can handle
Fizz in my soda can
dirt on my shoes
There’s junebugs crawling
up the sides of this house
my house
with plaster walls
and a light bulb hanging from the ceiling
swings to and fro
The sun jumps on my back
as I step outside
The numbers on a digital clock won’t change
if I watch them
The grass is knee-high
and half dead
the fence needs to be painted
The children of the neighborhood come
and stare into my windows
On Moaning and Backhandsprings
Better than the rest
but you are worse than sleepless nights
Confusing me to no end
and embittering
I will forgive you
will always forgive you
will never turn you away
will never forgive myself
and all this life
turns itself into
a fuzzy lint-bit on your jacket
we are what has been left
and the men will fight to prove a point
and the boys will fight to prove a point
and they will go down if you moan enough
but not too much
You say I am just a little girl
and I have so much left to do say feel learn keep hear speak eat breathe drink
You say I haven’t seen anything yet
I have seen the sun rise
I have seen the ocean rise up and eat my innocence
I have seen myself turning backhandsprings for you
I am unforgivable
You say I have not seen anything
but I have seen enough to know
that I
like
moaning.
Photo
Fine face is
candles
on the surface of the water
I am as lonely
as your kaleidoscope eyes
in the pictures I could stare at for years
until your lips fade away
and the tip of your nose
is not distinguishable
Run my fingers over your thin frame
standing in the bathroom window
Seduce the goddess with an imp smile
Piquant
Every bit of evidence
points at your guilty face
Why do I need more than you have?
Suffer in the shadow you have created
The dirt in the crease of my palm
is enough to prove my devotion
to a worthless diminishing lust
inside of you
bound by chains and morals
or anger
In the shadow you have created
There is a beating in the front of my head
while tears pile up
on top of the dirt
in the crease of my palm
You are old news
in my reflective
and burning tree-lined dream
One day I will have something as fresh and new
as that blue dress in the fourth grade
that I wore every day
for a week straight
and kept until
it was too tight for me to breathe in
and too short to wear without a pair of pants
and I hated wearing pants
but it was new and pure
and when I wore that dress
I was new and pure
and beautiful
(although you’ve never seen such chubby cheeks)
and no one cared about
how I bit my nails
and had split ends
because this is new and pure and beautiful
and when it grew too small for me to wear
I tore it into neat strips
and used it as ribbons
for my semi-curly hair
which I have grown to hate
more than the laughing faces
when I failed at everything twice
I will wear this blue dress
until it disintegrates into nothingness
but by then
no one will remember
how beautiful I was
Public Displays of Affection
It’s a secret that I hate you
It’s a secret that I become nauseated
at the very mention
of your name
Well
it’s not a secret anymore
I have put it onto paper and finally realized it for myself
Now I want you to know
I want the whole world to know
what I kind of low-life I think you are
I want to broadcast over all the radio stations
of the earth
my displeasure with your existence
and I want my message to reach
the farthest corners
From every poverty ridden shack
to the high rise eccentricities of the city
I want every individual to be aware
of the Hiss on my tongue
I want to stand on my soap box
(it is dust)
and screech to the audience
concerning your
nastiness!
I want to slaughter every hideous word
your brought to life
so you could flick them at my confidence
like flagged toothpicks
in the ceiling of a cheap diner
I want to massacre these words
and throw their little bodies
onto your cooling corpse
(Media)
Which is what I have done in writing this
Even if you don’t hear it
or read it
and in case you haven’t noticed
I’m not bitter
Richard’s Rain
I can still smell him here
like too many lilacs in my garden
and his logic is resounding
ricocheting off the walls in my mind
I had hoped that
he might lean to me
and kiss my face
Sometimes
the things I imagine
are horribly far-fetched
and preposterous
but I can still smell him here
as the rain falls quicker
into the dry ground
I am pulsing with its rhythm
and my face in the open window
inviting it
inhaling it
consuming the rain
like life itself
Scrooge Karma God
There’s ghosts in this place
that have got me by the hair
They drag me around
show me past
present
future
the error of my ways
How tricky my thoughts can be
How terrible the words we say
and in anger
how senseless
Do I think that I will always be compensated
for the wrong done to me
What can I do
to make you believe
that we are together
every God on Mt. Olympus
every mountain in the sea
Sean Told Me…To Pull My Head Out of My Cunt
You say I am small.
You say I am fragile.
Well what if I am?
Tell me more about me, really,
yes, we’re on the same boat.
I think I’ll swim next time,
because I’m tired of rowing
through ocean after ocean
with an ignoramus like you.
I wonder what
you will make of me
next week when
I am the only company
you can come up with.
Will you say my head is on right then?
What do you want me for?
The ornament I am,
so small and fragile.
Well, I don’t like Snoop Dogg,
because he told my little sister all about
Gin and Juice,
hos with big butts,
and that is worthless.
If this makes me narrow minded,
so be it.
I just fail to see the charm in a man singing
his dick on my tonsils,
and if Snoop doesn’t like it,
then he can write a song about my man-hating poems
and expose me as the “bitch” I am.
Shakespearean Vengeance
These aren’t my hands
controlling the stars
I swear it to you
His dark softest skin
I knew it must be a dream
Or one too many love stories
“Three words, dear Romeo, and good night indeed.”
He had a mole on his hip
These aren’t my hands choking him now
his beautiful eyes rolling back
exposing eggshell whites
always so delicate
and oh precious boy
you haven’t got a clue what you’re in for
because I’m going to ruin you
I’m going to put you to shame
and the best part is
you didn’t think I’d survive
well here I am
and I’m more pissed off than ever
I’m going to fuck you
‘cause you fucked with me
and believe me
when you wake up
you’re going to have one hell of a headache
The Prince of Cats
Fiery Tybalt
You will not land on your feet this time
because I’m making sure
you end up on your back
Good night indeed
Give me back my hands
Sly and Tipped
Curling slick
like a Sugar Daddy
the corners of your lips
pull up and around
revealing sweet little teeth
ready to puncture
and draw blood
so sweet
with the furrowed brow
and the unintentional
yet perpetual pout
which sets me on the edge
of everything
He is the night
and there is no stopping from
enveloping the world
and then the golden sun
to leave us in his darkness
Splashing
Splashing kisses on my forehead
you are bottomless tonight
and I am this fly
trapped in a web
that I suppose I flew into intentionally
and so what if I did?
What if I wrapped my legs around you
and gave you what you whine for
beg for
put on your hideous puppy eyes for?
What if I slid my tongue so far down your throat
you choked on it?
What if I squeezed until the very life
was drained out of your
pumping
pumping
pumping
mass?
What if I had you
had you good
had every happy drop of sin
and I swallowed it too
What if the aforementioned events
came to pass
Then you could roll over and sleep
Would you respect me in the morning?
Strange Days
I know who the moron is
I know the strange days
are upon us
and the long minutes blow away
into pieces of the sky
How long I have been sliding under this rock
forgotten?
The fires burn during my strange days
turning to ash the picture
of your lonely cuerpo in my room
During my strange days
engines are too loud
the sun is too bright
I become paranoid and ancient
while sliding under the rock
your bare feet
my bare feet
so far apart
I’m glad you like the suicide doors
I only wish you
were in my passenger seat
at night I wish on stars
my comfort somewhere
so much farther away
I know who the moron is
Stupid Girl, Inc.
I took my first hit the other day
and wondered what you would’ve said
I wondered what we would’ve talked about
I wondered about life in general
and decided I could definitely live in this state of mind
I remembered the stories you told
and remembered thinking you were born 27
years or so too late
and the worry stone around my neck is the most beautiful thing ever
There are so many things I want to tell you--
you haven’t even seen my little car
I had this dream that we drove all over the Irish hills in it
and I do filing in this office
so I always have papercuts
and I’m saving money because this coming summer
I want to take a road trip to Anywhere
once I turn 16 (July 30) and get my license...
but that’s an eternity away
I wanted to tell you that you are
The North Star and that
this is my first Christmas without Grandpa and
that when it rains I like to sit on the porch
and watch the gutter streams widen
and that the statue in Central Park
where we shared our first kiss
should be made a place of worship
Suicide
Some guy is getting on my nerves
I think leaving might have been
the better solution
but I’m not big on better solutions
So I hung around
he hung up
again and again
without saying “I love you”
the only thing I’ve ever wanted to hear
So I hung around
hung myself
with the umbilical cord of love
and enjoyed the labor of
Theocritus Once Said
Wouldn’t it be easy
if you fell into my arms
Wouldn’t it be simple
if you kissed me on the mouth
I think it would be fabulous
if you would recognize this flame
which makes itself so obvious in my eyes
In my opinion dearest darling
unparalleled joy would be
to taste the sickness of pleasure and satisfaction
The moment spent with you
would be
undoubtedly
a lifetime spent Elysian
He is my morphine
tantalizing god
Theocritus once said,
“By trying, the Greeks got into Troy”
I believe the thought of your breathing
excites me to the point
of ecstasy and dreaming
Now wouldn’t it be simple
if you joined me
in the dream
Tic Tac Toe
Did it make a difference to you
that I nearly sacrificed my life
That I would keep records
of encounters with you
That thunder is nothing
next to separating
the dream from my chest
Little words feel soft on my fingers
Turning off the television
your eye disappears
behind the slick light of a neon sign
I cannot bypass
chalk scribbles on the ground
circles, round stars
your name and mine
superimposed over the sun
and fluffy clouds
that look just like the treetops and bushes
The thunder threat of slanty-dash rains
Turning off the television
you disappear behind
tropical islands and credit cards
but I can hear you smile
Turning off the radio
your words will trail me, still
and your slick Egyptian eyes
look at me through windows
when my back is to the wall
Outside, your name is superimposed
over the sun
Tinker-Toy
We say goodbye
and walk away
and this is all?
After all the efforts made
by a certain unnamed me
you bury yourself in lies
and convince me of your honesty...
honesty was never a part of you
or even a concept
upheld by your organization
and if you sometime soon remember
what I made you feel was good
and if you sometime want to hold me
that is AOK
I think your conscience
has a nervous twitch
and your way is so sick
I become an emotion
I am pleasure-- nothing better
am a tool for your enjoyment
and convenient when you leave me
helpless on the playroom floor
so will you pick me up
and dust me off
that I may stand again?
And if you’re extra decent
you might find the strength
to think of me
and set me near
the box I came to you within
when I was shining new
Unbroken Chain
If I had some way of knowing
where it is I’m going
or just a simple reason to arrive
I might feel that the journey
was worth the pain and yearning
and the travel would be that on which I thrive
Tell me what is it about me
that makes you want to not be
the one man I could finally adore
I think you have a motive
for why it is you won’t give
and your emptiness is blocking love’s back door
I’m tired of the crying
and the hoping and the sighing
I’m tired of giving all and getting none
I’ve seen what it is you’re after
your simple throaty laughter
has revealed yes you are serious like fun
If what I say is drastic
and my words seem too fantastic
it’s cos I’ve been along this street for far too long
So please just hold me tightly
because I can’t go quietly
I only ask you do not do me wrong
What is it makes you wonderful
and harder to achieve?
What is’t keeps my attention
Could it be tricks up your sleeve?
How do you hold my body
and detach it from my mind?
How do you hear my secrets
and pretend that you are kind?
Why must I still remember
your voice and things you said
When times of sweet velour and love
Are all long-gone and dead?
Where has all the whimsy gone
and is there room for me?
Where do I fit in all this mess
and can it really be?
Will loving ever show her face
and paint my blue heart red?
And do you think I’ll have the time
to punch her in the head?
Virtuosa
I don’t know what I’m looking for
an action or a word
that will restore
my sense of dignity
without causing much more damage
I’ve had as much as I can take
walking on egg shells
I’m bound to fall a step behind
but nothing else matters
when you have a cigarette in one hand
and the world in the other
except it’s a real bitch
trying to light a match that way
Ween
I wonder what I’m doing here
I know I don’t belong with all these
righteous people
shout your name against the sun
let me ride awhile in your car here
just look at all the lights
from the sinful dirty city
I’m not really a loser, am I
but if I believed everything he said
I’d be a lot more
can you dig it?
mixed-up message in your hands
I think he has a gun
but he is
too afraid to
use me pull the trigger
with that sex you can give
when you’re not in the mood
we never fought
how could you not discover
what was so blatant
ignorance is no excuse
I held it to a candle for you
when we were sitting in the window
listening to Ween
I think sometimes that you purposely
misunderstood to frustrate me
you always liked that, didn’t you
I know you must, or else
why would you intentionally leave me
to my own devices in his brother’s bed...
shout your name against the sun
Where We Run When We Cry
Someplace inside of me
cringes at the thought
of never having you back
then the confidence returns
and I know I will win out
because how long
can you stay mad at the dog
who shit in your yard
just once
You can hose it off
set up the jugs of water
hope it doesn’t happen again
but to sit on the porch with that shotgun
for the rest of your life?
Who will ever come
to call on you?
Who will ever bring you tea-cakes?
Let me in...
so I might tidy up
straighten things out
hang up curtains
set out placemats with matching coasters
I could knit some lovely doilies
and still have time to clean your bongs
Why Bother?
In the frame of your door
I could not say what I mean
meant
see before me
Every longing is magnified
by the sorriness of my offering
to you
I keep remembering
that beanbag in the kitchen
drinking Pepsi from a cereal bowl
a maggot infested sandwich
so much like the lust which
plagued a pure and honest love
driving me to question motives and words
driving me into the arms of seeming assurance
and comfort...compassion gone perverse
and sick comfort ultimately leading
to the greatest grief
the unexplainable
will not become otherwise
with the passing of time
months gone by will only increase
the doubt and bitter words
residing in your mouth
so that one day when I finally tell it to you
there is no objectiveness
or cutting of slack
What can I say to a closed mind
and a broken dream
sometimes, Why bother?
Yeah
When you lay your hands on me
I become fulfilled and overflowing
with the left-over passion
of a kiss on the cheek
My mouth searching for your mouth
and open
so welcoming
to whatever you suggest
so willing and anxious to please the god inside you
I am somehow captivated
by your funny half smile
and how your eyes can be portals
to the longing
the lust trapped inside
this pulsing
pounding
ripped bit of soul
and it calls to me
--louder than chimes walking into
an empty shoe store--
without opening its tiny
painted mouth
This mouth
can swallow me whole
to digest all the dreaming and pity I am
This mouth can consume me in bits and pieces
and keep me down
or throw me back up
for the bitter taste of apathy
All this flowing
from the depth of a canyon
deep in my system
which is constantly
turning, turning, turning
This mouth can whisper hoarsely to me
and take me on a trip
to a brand-new -and-improved level of patience
This mouth in your ripped bit of soul
perplexing
Enchanted I am
by the lips so warm
the flesh
so cool to the touch
and plain to see
so beautiful these lips
even pursed in thought
and moreso when stretched
tight and wide open in laughter