I don't know that I'd necessarily make any apologies for it...but re-reading these and thinking this was my head at 16 and 17 years old does make me sad. Some of them I read and they speak to me even now. Old poetry is like a message sent from the You in the past to the You in the future...now if I could just figure out how to go back, and stop that girl from hurting herself so much.
Table of Contents: 1996
1, 2, Me (#3)
#15
2 Poems for Ben
20 Reasons Why I Hate Valentine’s
About John Hooper
Acid
Celebration
Cheating
Consolation
Dan
Dan Minton
Electric
English
Escaping
Frost
Good Mascara
The Greatest Backyard
He Plays the Guitar
How Sad
Lord Bastard of the World
Meet Lord Bastard of the World
Moon Pie
My Boys
My Favorite Movie
My Mother
Nightmare Apple Tree
No Rules
Noodles
One Night Stand
Outside
Peekaboo
Plastic Spiders, His Disciples
Precious Metals
Radishes or Walnuts?
Real Thing, The
Rebirth
Richard’s Second Coming
Robby or Bobby
Sly and Tipped
Solitary
Solitude
Spectator
Split
Stowaway
Sun
Take Me With You
Tamra’s Party
That Kind of Love
That’s a Nervous Habit
Thought
Three Thoughts
Toe Jam and Chemicals
Tony
Tony’s House
T.V. Movie
Unkempt
Wine Cooler Exasperation
Wishing
Wood
1, 2, Me (#3)
If there is a god
please shoot #1
In the head or the back
it doesn’t matter to me
You could even slip something
into his morning coffee
and I wouldn’t mind
Honest
As long as he wound up
dead as Elvis
or a little deader
If there is a god
please bring #2 to me
(#3)
Show him how utterly harmless I
am
and how I would care for him
eternally
exercise painstaking caution
in my relations to him
become for #2
everything I never was
should have been
I would never be destructive to
him
I would never want for more
again
or be a whore
and I would never wish upon him
what I wish upon my #1
#15
I wanted to slip my number
in your pocket
I wanted to tell you
how you must be
the other half of my orange
That when we drive on the
highway
I'm sure we sing the same lines
of the same songs
and in identical dreams
we have searched for each other
all along
So I wonder
if you bite your fingernails
into stubs
like me
I wonder if you get drunk at
parties
meander outside
and watch the fat bulbous moon
destined to throw up
and scribble all these etched
moments
onto a napkin or some toilet paper
before the clock strikes twice
like me
I wonder if you ever
lay in bed at 2:30 in the morning
convinced that you have met
your ideal love
after hearing three poems
and ogling them all night
like me
I wonder if you sleep in a fetal ball
during winter
and spread askew
a lazy feline
through the summer
thin top sheet
hardly concealing
your nudity
like me
And if you do
may I join you?
2 Poems for Ben
Giving up my silly old dreams
I know I will forget you
I know I will forget being hurt
again
I will forget going places with you
I’ll forget watching movies
until 4am
and waiting at the promenade
late for our first date
Somehow
I will get over
putting my trust in you
and you putting nothing in me
I will overcome
your lack of emotion
the lies
the deceptions
obscene egotism
I will forget
that just for a second
I let my guard down
and let in a Trojan horse
I know I will forget you
but it will not be soon
…
All the love I could have given you
All the pictures and stories I
clipped out of magazines
and never got to send you
all the letters I write
alone
at night
that will remain in the bureau
unsigned
All the dreams I have
where you’re back in my arms
and I wake up to cry for a week
All the times I will need you by my side
I will be alone
I will be alone
20 Reasons Why I Hate Valentine’s
Tony
Josh
Johnny
Matthew
Nacho
Sol
Saul
Jason
Levi
Zander
Thom
Will
Jeff
Ryan
James
Dennis
Jonathan
Sean
Richard
That Guy at Tamra’s Party
About John Hooper
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
Acid
Everything fluctuates
then goes back
into
itself
and breathes and lives
which never lived before
I know what it is to be spirit
I know what it is to be
lightfreetoroam
I know what it is to wander
I flew over the Christmas lights
in our front yard and into the house
where you stood in all your glory
Christmas wrap and Christmas bows
The Christmas tree behind you
You looked at me
but can you see
I don't know what I can do
Little hands which grasp at me
are the little hands which I once loved
The little hands which I still miss
The little hands of you which I wish for now
in someplace where I don't belong
with some people who don't know
me
Under the swimming pool lay the bodies
lay the bodies
lay the bodies
broken record turns in the next room
while I dance with you
around around around
the fire
Broken record turns in the next room
as I dance with you
you hand me a glass of water
I hand you a glass of wine
and we drink to the end of the world
the start of a new love
and the blinds are closed
and and and
and the broken record turns
in this room
as she dances with you
Brown is decay
He was so yellow
I called him Sunflower
Yellow like anything you could
ever imagine
like laying on your back
and looking right at the sun
I caught the middle
Stared at it for hours until
my retinas burned
turned black
then brown like decay
Celebration
Some weird cracked
Christmas lights
hang outside my window
It was enough just to be there
to sit at your table
and smoke
Rain smacks down softly
as I drive
remembering you
and me
and who you wished
I could be
Cheating
1996
Phil
Cheating
The moon outside tonight
shines with a fierce intensity
only I can fathom
My tall skinny lover
knows nothing
of the man who can lift twice his weight
the man who has enthralled me
the same man who makes me feel
worthless
then priceless within the hour
I took him home and arrived to find
my room had become a scented medley of
Indian incense and Chinese orange chicken
Arrived to find
my mother has a tumor in her
head
Consolation
Sometimes there is a desire
within me
to annihilate
a girl or a boy
a girl and a boy together
perhaps
and smile to myself secretly
or somehow be content
The cry in my throat
is unbearably loud
and rising
then I remember how unfaithful I was
and I am comforted
Dan
There’s this man I know
who has devoted his life
to the art of being wonderful
When he looks at me
I feel like running into a dark corner
just to see if he would follow
mischief his motive
and some kind of kiss would be marvelous
since how long have I been
holding my number
and waiting my turn?
I am done with patience and
serenity
I am officially cutting out of line
and demanding friendly service
Dan Minton
If there were some way to tell you
what a cornerstone you are...
How many times
I almost abandoned this mission
and remembered
you
waiting patiently
The way you make me
suddenly genius
despite my stupidities
It amazes me every day
how you have dedicated your life
to being someone else's inspiration
The way your wisdom
bends and condescends
until you are not just a mentor
but a friend
You can serve drunk drivers
a cup of coffee
in a manner that says
stay a while
not just
Sober up!
And for this I thank you
Because you have never been
out of my reach
Merely something celestial
fallen to earth
Electric
Aye
there’s the rub
when I miss you like this
and I raise up my hand
to look at your picture
then I lay on my back
just watch the clouds
roll and stoop
I try newer lovers
to blot out The You
unsuccessful
I try then to blot out The Me
because nothing compares
to the way we lit up a room
or the vibrance of your mouth
in my hair
Sporadic
you flickered off at any given time
I turn him on
there’s not sparks like you
but a dim steady glow
not too bright
but constant
English
Here I am
two seats behind him
he doesn’t even know my name
He bites his nails
the same way I do
I wonder if he’s kind
I’ve never looked on longingly
until I couldn’t sit still
Those flawless hands
and soft pale skin
Beautifully shaped
every part
I wonder if he’s intelligent
a good conversationalist
in agreement with my political standing
approving of my moral code
I wonder if on our first date
he would scowl as I lit up
or join me
If I said "Let’s get plastered!”
would he look away in distaste
or ask what I’d like
Would he think me trashy
am I attractive to him
and why is SHE close enough to breathe on him?
Escaping
I’m going to cry
but there’s no reason
I wish there was somewhere
far away and decent
or at least far away
I remember how it used to be
like smoking in the park
or running out of excuses
finally, one day
like sticks of gum
that got chewed up
and spit back out again
Frost
I feel my frost coming on
for the evening
The moment where
I begin to be hungry
but can not eat
so I smoke
I hate these nights
where I go out alone
my excuse to meet someone new
my motive wanting to meet you
coming out of a bar
or a coffeeshop
sick with grief
over giving me up
I can dream
can’t I?
The frost keeps on coming
The moment in life
where I begin to feel lonely
but can not love
So I smoke
my legs crossed
uncrossed
Don’t want to give in
I can not eat
I can not love
My lips freeze over
I can not smoke
Good Mascara
Good mascara
Is the kind
that never smudges
no matter how hard
fast
and sweaty the sex is
It will never run when you are turned
onto your stomach
and cry softly into your pillow
during the hard
fast
sweaty
sex
But tomorrow
when you are trying to wash
the sweaty sex
off of your body
it will give you
two black eyes
so that for the rest of the day
you know
that good mascara
and sweaty sex
will never simply rinse away
The Greatest Backyard
(An English Assignment)
As you walk through the back doors and into the drinkable sun, it seems that the descent of those two concrete steps, painted peeling red, leads into an endless twilight valley.
A narrow brick walkway winds its way through the grass, which has always been well looked-after but never more than half-alive as far as time can tell. There is a makeshift patio, at the end of this path, which almost falls over every time the wind blows. Its seafoam green supports creak in effort all winter long.
Some outdoor furniture sits under the shelter of the wood and tarpaper roof of the patio. The chairs and sofa are meant for relaxing, but no one aside from we children touches them, seeing as they have been covered in five kinds of dirt and dead bugs litter their surface like sick confetti. It is a nice set, though...green-and-orange-tropical-nightmare-1970’s type of nice. Sitting on those sofas in the summertime, you feel at ease and can watch the bumblebees fly drunkenly about or inhale the scent of freshly mown grass.
Around the right side of the house, if we climb underneath and past the thorny rosebushes, there is a patch of grass so overgrown that it almost outreaches the rosebushes in a competition to touch the sky. It sits between the East wall and the brick separating the house from elderly unfriendly neighbors, whose orange tree invades the backyard and lets loose occasionally its dimply fruit. This fruit, we take thankfully and savor the sweet summer smell of while tasting a piece of the sun itself.
When the sun sets, in my yard, it polka-dots the faces of little girls as they lay on their backs underneath the intrusive orange tree. The half-alive grass pokes their backs like gnome-size bayonets-- and they are happy little dirtballs from top to bottom...they don’t mind the bugs or the dirt or even the outdated furniture. All they know is that they want to be there and they are.
He Plays the Guitar
Sitting at home
just drove him back to his car
I had planned on holding out
but he finessed me into it
or so he thought
I think he might call me back
'cos I was pretty good tonight
though I really doubt he will
Hope is something I've learned
I shouldn't have
but my better half
The upper half
keeps it in use
How Sad
How sad
the silence of my guts
How very sad
all the love that ends up
at the curb on garbage day
How sad
all the garages
with dusty lawn chairs
and rusty hammers
in their corners
all the cardboard boxes
stuffed with clothes
out of style
garish crucifixes
given at Easter
plush elephants
from a summer carnival
fishbowls whose tenants
are long since dead
Watches with no bands
broken hands
and me
at the bottom
all those forgotten limbs of your life
how sad
Lord Bastard of the World
I asked if he wanted to have sex
He said no, he wanted to make love
as if he knew what it were
I work every weekend until midnight
and try to capture the poetic nuances
that enter my mind
this couple holding hands
turning my gut
The balloon boy
enshrouded by hundreds
of helium butterflies
Who always walks by
more than he has to
and smiles when he does it
This bastard who lives
in San Bernadino
he has a girlfriend he keeps
hidden from his mistresses
and mistresses he keeps hidden
from his girlfriend
What else he's hiding
we'll never know
He lives on an Island
with the rest of
the Bastards of the World
who think you don't notice
when they begin to kiss differently
or when the pictures of you
are found
in the bottom bureau drawer
Shrug it off and say
'I love you'
'Kiss me'
Who will tell you they understand
what you need
and they can give you it now
When they really understand
nothing
and give you less than that
The Bastards of the World
who
with a small vacuum
called deceit
will suck all the life from you
smiling and cooing all the while
and you
too dumb or wonderful to ask
'What do you plan to do with
that hose?'
become increasingly smaller
as they become increasingly full
until you are only a small speck of
What Once Was
and they are
Lord Bastard of the World
Meet Lord Bastard of the World
If there were a way to hold on
to those things we lose when we're not paying attention
but miss when we realize they're gone
Or some way of knowing
whether or not he means it
when he says
"you're down to earth and beautiful"
or if tomorrow morning
after I believed what he said last night
and took him seriously this evening
will he make excuse and skitter away
collecting clothes as he goes
leaving me to feel
everything but beautiful, erotic, down to earth
and whatever the hell else he called me
while he was sliding his hand up the back of my shirt
and trying to figure out how he could get my bra off
with his words
I'm everything but beautiful, erotic and down to earth
on my sad drive home
speeding and crying and trying
to stay awake
all at the same time
What I feel is only stupid
for letting myself believe
even for one brief moment
that I am beautiful
down to earth
and erotic
and with this final thought
I decide to embrace
the sweet floozy I am
Moon Pie
Bring me down until I
CRASH
out through the door
of modesty’s house
into a light filled world
Listening to good music
Smelling her hair
he says
Raspberries
She waves him away
If you love me
you’ll fetch me some ginger ale
and moon pie
Stayed up too late
now she knows
no moon pie
will satisfy
Stumbles out the door and trips
down the stairs
stairs
stairs
stairs
and on a self-redemption landing
dusts off her jeans cursing at the sky
and says to the very next man she meets
Take it!
Yeah, you want it!
And take it all at once
because I know you won’t be back
and you know what?
I don’t care
This moon pie
you know what you can do with it
So go on
then roll over
roll right out the door
because when you
CRASH
out through the wall
of modesty’s house
there’s no going back
Moon pies on the house!
Moon pies for everyone!
There always will be
Always have been
She walks down the street
to a dirty diner for coffee
the waiter asks
if she’d be interested
in some moon pie
and she just laughs
My Boys
So rarely
you find the curiosity
living in someone’s smile
Dreary heads
overrule the hope
They roll their own cigarettes
and take what you give
Thank you
with a curiosity smile
and remind you
why it matters
One day I’ll hitchhike to San Francisco with them
I’ll watch all the dirty hippies
with curiosity smiles
sewn on their faces
like happy rag dolls
no home
no car
no money
I will freeze on the pavement
no shoes
no bed
and I will smile back
My Favorite Movie
Last night
a boy came home with me
and I put on the movie
that I always put on
which I’ve never actually seen
because I always end up too busy
to watch
But I know the dialog by heart
Tonight I sat outside a coffeehouse I hate
reading the book
of a woman who is obsessed
with her breasts
and relating to it
A stranger
invited me to a party
someone else’s mark
still fading from his neck
He tells me he is a DJ
I think he is lying
He tells me he is 21
I know he is lying
He asks to be kissed
I must feign surprise
followed by a coy smile
stupid games
Later against the car
there is a whispered request
and I tell him no
because I’m tired of not getting
any phone calls the morning after
because I’m tired of men fondling me stupidly
I tell him no
because I’ve become easy
and I miss not being
He thinks this a sign
of inexperience
Baby relax
Is it your first time?
In the back of my head
I am playing that movie
but just the dialog
I’ve never seen their faces
My Mother
If I write about sex too much
my mother is bound to find at least
one dirty poem
if she hasn’t already
My mother
she reads my notebooks
having the lack of consideration
to invade my privacy
and the kindness to tell me she likes them
My mother
she was a writer
I imagine her
under some protective tree in Havana
during a rainstorm
or a sunny sweltering day
scribbling the few poems I have seen
I imagine her
writing about the protective tree
or the rainstorm
sometimes about high quality
true love
Then I see myself
sitting in my room
Camel Wide in ashtray
black bra discarded on the floor
I form a rough estimate
of how many times I’ve utilized the word
"fuck”
in my writing
and I pray
EARNESTLY
that my daughters will not be poets
Nightmare Apple Tree
When she comes around
pick up the apple seeds
and plant them near the river
We will never be thirsty
Keep that letter in your pocket
Leave the flower in your hair
There’s your boy at the crossroads
kicking up dirt
waiting for her
to come around
The side of the house
needs repainting
my smile is half-rotted and sad
I will spawn the disease
of three generations
with my prophecies
now silver clad
Yeah
the night will turn violet
before my death
and the day will have darkened
like mud
but I know what they’ll say
when they take you away
and I’ll miss all the sorrow you bring
So lift up your glass
in a toast to the nightmare
that constantly plays in the yard
Don’t keep me inside
I have always denied
any truth about me and my nightmare
We will never be thirsty
We’ll dance to a tune
which repeats itself
twice every hour
You will see my disease
as you crawl on your knees
I have tried to conceal it
with anger
How voluptuous your sigh
floating past me
(Goodbye)
If you keep me here
I die from loneliness
but at least I will never be thirsty
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 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 here
no one is righteous and self proclaimed darling
Here no one will eavesdrop
and tell all what I say
because here
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 hung over
in the morning
because I am magician
and you are the magic
without one another
we are nothing
and we can stay up all night
and make the sun rise turquoise
if we want
We can perch in the trees like squirrels
We’ll lie in the shadows
and break all of the rules they taught us
then some of the ones they didn’t
Noodles
"The streetlights get bluer and bluer”
he said
as I fell in love
unwittingly
All part of one another
One Night Stand
Picked up a total stranger
convinced him I was pure
enough
Seduced him into my arms
and held him there
shortly
Savoring for a moment
the great illusion of life
Loving him truly
and briefly
for 20 or 30 minutes
followed by my crash down
to What Is
and his ride home
Shook his hand Good Night
(Good Bye)
and gave him my telephone number
knowing full well
he will never call
Outside
Standing in a little bit of sunshine
thawing out my tiny frozen hands
I am reminded of your bed
when I left it
Peekaboo
Dizzy with explosive thought
the crazy notion of love
constantly escapes me
into some dark alley
where I dare not follow
only watch
in bereft silence
as her milky hands wave
in distress
for me to come
find her
In this round
of Hide and Seek
we both are out of breath
and become lonely
Waiting for one to find the other
We grow impatient
worrisome
and just as I think
I am sure
she will never catch me
out pops her blurry head
and she giggles
tags me it
while running into the distance
Plastic Spiders, His Disciples
I cannot suppress the urge
to kiss you
and I take your face in my hands
I do not stop
to consider the consequences
of my action
I do not care
I kiss you with a fury
neither of we two islands
have ever known
or may know again
(This is my dream]
I take in the fragrance of your hair
I memorize it
Your wild and dark mane
tangled in my eye
The perfection that you are
I can hardly believe
the oceans of words from your lips
which have caught my eyes
"like two fish”
I am hypnotized
tranquilized
by the laughing of this mouth
Plastic Spiders come a-jigglin’
into my life
to make a meal of my self-assurance
and plant in me
a venomous dream
The dream I cannot achieve
The dream I will chase
and graze with my attempt
when I was hoping to shoot it down entirely
I will persevere
but one day
soon I hope
I will burn myself out
and fall into his web
dead
Yes-- the plastic spiders
his disciples
will seek me out
and render me unconscious
o my children
and their messiah will feast
on my innocence
he will feast upon me
and the dream
Precious Metals
Supply me
with some sustenance
my mouth is old and dry
I miss the taste
of home cooked loving
and draughts of drunken nights
I can’t remember
how it was
to put my hands on you
but know it felt like something right
and made me feel right
too
If all my words fell down on you
they’d smell of pine and sweets
You’re drowning
drowning slowly
and you’re calling after me
My silver jingle jangles
and you use it to your best
Your gold is simply blinding
as you walk into the West
Radishes or Walnuts?
Melancholy existence
bereft of the one true interest
darling
Haven't you ever wanted
to launch a ceaseless crying fit
Feeling this longing
makes me uneasy
In your presence I wish to lie down and moan
until they shake the earth
out of her orbit
and into some other galaxy
Perhaps you'll realize
then
that there is only one who truly loves you
there is one to recognize you
I will move star systems for you
and enjoy the labor of
The Real Thing
Today I went to the movies alone
just to be alone
to not share myself with men
who will never care
or insincere companions
who pretend they do
and this is worse
You’re being so quiet
he said
Are you ok?
So I tell him
that I’m trapped in a melodramatic existence
with no windows or doors
and water is beginning to fill the room
by the mouthful
That I’ve let myself be used
for so long
I’m getting good at it
That I was never accepted in grade school
My mom wouldn’t let me have a big dog
so I got a poodle instead of a mastiff
I’ll never get to Europe
My friends all drift away
I bite my nails
my eyebrows grow together
my butt’s too big
and people like YOU drive me
to drive myself 40 minutes away
to sit in the back row
of a theater alone
laughing and crying alone
and I do it all
because nobody loves me
like I do
Rebirth
Looking to hold you
feeling so lame
Hoping that maybe
you’re feeling the same
Learning to open
the doors of my heart
With luck you won’t shut them
or tear them apart
Giving in to the youthful
and innocent notion
that love is a river
which flows to the ocean
It goes without saying
I’ve been here before
Well I’ve been a virgin
and I’ve been a whore
but my whole backwards life
is turned forward with you
it falls into place
and there’s nothing to do
Blowing smoke rings beside you
I’ve something to say
I’m learning to open
I’m going to stay
Richard’s Second Coming
We watched The Basketball Diaries
at 4 in the morning
he and I
two overworked sales clerks
patronizing one another
We ate Taco Bell burritos
on the freeway overpass by my house
and left the trash
as a gentle reminder
of how messy kids can get
So I lay there
watching Jim slam his life away
Richard laying next to me on speed
and I know this is for real
Robby or Bobby
Robby or Bobby or whatever the hell his name is
I’ve had a huge crush on him
since my sophomore year
he had the longest strawberry hair
I’d ever seen
(aside from the most popular girl in eight grade)
This was a freckle faced
nail biter
left handed like me even
Jeans every day soul seeker
his guitar in tow
He cut his hair
and got speed skinny
but his workings still convey mischief
and when he wails on that guitar
you can’t help but feel the love
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 him
from enveloping the world
the sun
the silver moon
but he must first
envelope me
Solitary
[a thing I used to do where I’d write a list of words related to how I was feeling and then make them the first words on each line]
Foolish heart stepped out onto the
Broken pavement only to be
Disappointed by the harshness of a
Lame man He would lean
Sad on his women who
Choked their tears back night after night
Crushed by his body and lack of
Compassion
Married to their grief for so long they finally
Divorce his
Pouty existence However
Benign they are left
Solitary
Solitude
Whenever I say
"What did I take from this last one”
it’s always so much less than I deserve
And the bloodletting
this draining of all the good in me
is so useless
so wasteful
I doggedly ease myself back into solitude
Happy to be away
from the inconsistency of emotion
Elated to release all things unsterile
Eager to cease
the systematic trials of my patience
Overjoyed to be alone
finally with the one I love
Spectator
Some crazy old woman
has been peering over my shoulder
for 15 minutes
as I write
I walked 3rd street
ogled
by every drunk
fat man
who felt his heart start thumping
Passed the pub
where we met for the first time
my hair ran wild
at that moment
remembering you
an hour late
Here we go
tears welled up
as I set the polaroid of you
aflame in the bathroom sink
to the tune of the Monkey’s
"I’m Not Your Stepping Stone”
appropriately enough
Figured myself a renewed and liberated woman
pounced on the night
Walked up and down 3rd street
a free woman
Sat on the curb
a vibrant woman
and now this crazy old lady
is peering over my shoulder
reading my words as I write them
and relating entirely
I’m sure
Split
Suddenly bereft
of partners
in crime
I am a forced
lone stranger
Become what
I should be
and made to see it
I am sickened
weakened
and in a strange way
pleased
Stowaway
There’s a Volkswagen bus
somewhere up North
the man I love
is driving away from this life
pedal to the floor
gets him further away
from an abusive father
mute mother
wasted efforts
Stops for gas smiling
at the miles
he’s put between himself and reality
It’s a success!
But the further he goes
The closer it gets
riding in the passenger seat
the tape deck
a cigarette he smokes
because run as he may
I’m still right behind him
my mouth glued to the exhaust pipe
Sun
I don’t know how it happened
He smiles
Yes
it warms me
and his eyes
full of sunlight
when he looks over my way
I can’t think of anything else
when he’s all over my brain
Locusts in the plague
and I can’t stop
His smile and eyes full of sunlight
Yes
it warms my whole life
thinking of the kisses we will have
the days we will lay together in grassy fields
surrounded by good and green
all the way
the nights we will walk linking arms
and the moon will swing her hips
to the tune we sing
cosmic love
Take Me With You
I said to the back of his head
quietly
I thought of my mistakes
Is this karma
damn
he’s gotten handsome
Something rotted inside
and it smells of circus tents
Listen to me
Listen to me
Listen to me
Listen!
Halfway around the world
I scream to
they hear me
and you in the same room
deaf like a rock
just as hard as you’ve become
Tamra’s Party
Renewed love for life
is abundant and flowing here
it enters through a pinhole in the sky
Everyone stands underneath and laughs
I am farther away and alone
colder until
I am led by the
Celtic boy
to a tree
and he shows me
the love, anger and rebirth
of the tree
And I believe every word
my hand on his
My drunken lips spilling
all the secrets of my life
That Kind of Love
It’s over as soon as it began
I wonder what made me drive
an hour every day to see you
and then an hour back home
to lay in bed exhausted
What made me spend
countless days
swathed in emotion
and watching movies
I hated
but you liked
drove me to diet
and even wear make up
was love
The kind that makes you
put on a pretty dress
when you’re just going to stay in
The kind that keeps you up
until 4:30am
The kind that holds its breath
until you give in
And you’d pay any price
just to touch it one more time
You overlook silly things
like insensitivity
and illegitimate children
The only thing that sustains
you
is a gerbil in a wheel
behind your left eye
You chew your nails
until you can’t even scratch anymore
just rub
Yes
that kind of love
That’s a Nervous Habit
And picking from my face the dried skin
I ponder the meaning of your existence
while pitying the young lass
but not too much
See
I was right about
everything
comes back to you
and it did
I’m just so happy
And even though I know
that by picking from my face
this bit of dried dead skin
I have transferred oil
from my cigarette fingers
onto my otherwise faultless countenance
causing new pimples to form
pimples that I will have to scrub
and scrub
that will leave scars behind
I do not concern myself with the issue
knowing the whole time that
I am finally rid of that clinging clump of dead cells
knowing that
this dried up bit of skin is you
Thought
In my private world
the sun revolves
around you
and somehow you remember
what it is like in my arms
then enjoy the thought
are not sickened by my voice or presence
"And you know that notion just crossed my mind”
Three Thoughts
Last night I was thinking
how strange our lives are
I was thinking
that I might like a space of my own
where the walls are peanut brittle
I was remembering
this guy I met
at an amusement park
Strawberry blonde
and I was thinking
I like blondes
He smells nice when he walks by
so nice you just have to
stop
and inhale
I close my eyes
knowing this is as close as I will ever get
to him in my shower
and willing
All these things we forget
after not too long
my eyes well up
my hands curl
like burning pictures
and I cry
Toe Jam and Chemicals
Once I got the blues
In my heat
they rose
Once I was lost in the mountains
passed my road
and laughed about it
now I sit in the car
feeling this poem stir
and knowing it is doomed
Wishing for inspiration
The car behind me
holds an owner and his dog
The men shout back and forth
unaware of my loss
holding the wine jug
dear
if only you knew my feeling
you would shout in recognition
turn off the radio
and make love to me
Tony
This limp in my heart
this bruise in my head
all make me reminiscent
of how we swam
in the middle of the night
how the smarmy moon
made my chest cave in
and there she nestled
content
It makes me wish
I hadn't given your letters back
in a fit of indignation
It makes me regret
not kissing you tonight
It makes me hate loving you
and you not loving me (?)
How do you make someone believe
that you are not whole without them
And how do you convince them
that they should help your entirety
How do you tell this deaf man
You are everything!
How can I trap this butterfly
without crushing its wings
So I hold his
hands and cry
wishing I could hold them there forever
Wishing we could fall asleep in a park
together
Knowing neither will happen
so my heart limps home
and I cry
Tony’s House
Everything serenades me tonight
a breeze rustles the palm overhead
5 million crickets
sing in unison
the oil leak of my car
drips rhythmically
as I sit outside your house
remembering sitting outside your house
when you would be waiting inside
my lover
and something so simple
makes me miserable
T.V. Movie
* click *
I’m waiting for him
to just walk through the door
just burst through the door
like some hero in a book
but my life isn’t a book
or a screenplay
My life is a T.V. movie
A horrible T.V. movie
that drags itself on and on for weeks
like the great flood
and lowers the ratings of the whole lineup
only it’s a great story
really
and would have the
swellest rave reviews
if only it were a book
or a screenplay
instead of my life
the T.V. movie
* click *
Unkempt
Lighting a candle for you
I slide down the wall
into a puddle of want
I close my eyes
involuntary
wonder where my favorite
blanket is
then remember a park bench
where I sat once
and felt poetic
Your telephone number
is worn out on my keypad
This dress I wore once
and put away
because it made me beautiful
and the matching hat I lost
This constant struggle
for the front seat in your Honda
which I know I’ll never have
A scab on my knee
a scar on my hand
want for shower
lack of shave
Wine Cooler Exasperation
Some crazy rooster
3:45 AM cam by
and told me to wake up
and this light flickers on
as I wonder what more I can say
to the loneliness that is your equation
The fire barely burning
I wonder what my boy is doing just now
My wine cooler exasperation is enough
A train sounds its warning in the distance
Breakfast at Tiffany's
playing in the back of my mind
and Leonard Cohen directly up front
So where is he tonight
and is he thinking about me
This I already know
as if it mattered
An ambulance
'An ape with angel glands'
The light flickers off
The wooden ceiling in Kenny's house
beckons me
that rooster's call still in my ears
Still strong
still dark
I wonder
if I will be a writer
or a stewardess
I wonder if I will be poor
I wonder if it is wrong to be a winter lady
Will we all burn down
If my life will be quiet and unobtrusive
Am I stupid for crying every time I get drunk
I am the dealer
lay down the cards and cross your fingers
My regulars have an idea
I give you a losing hand knowingly
This rooster still calling
Wishing
If I only had one wish
I would want to wish
for a smaller nose
and smoother legs
I would wish to be loved
or desired
I would wish for 40 days and nights of rain
maybe a copy of the Aristocats
I would wish
there weren’t two hairs
on each of my knuckles
I would wish
Bukowski were still alive
and that Alex was still a writer
I would wish to understand the quadratic formula
and to catch the eye
of a dark haired English teacher I’ve seen
but I know the solitary thing
I WOULDN’T wish for
is you
because I wouldn’t have a wish left
with which to wish
you would stay
Wood
There is sadness in me
it goes without saying
I need you
Tonight
I feel the weight of something
that never belonged to me
before
Suddenly
thrust upon the shoulders
of unsuspecting fools
The days expand
and drag their feet
while you are not around
I have eternal patience
if you care to ramble
and endless consolations
or sympathy
Splinters dig themselves
into my skin
and as they are submerged
I realize that the pain of cruci
fiction could not compare
to a life here
void of my perfect mate