Monday, August 31, 2015

I tell ya what I'm gonna do.
I'm gonna take every love song I ever wrote for you
And go and sing em
For the world,
And seduce everyone,
A thousand lovers under the sun,
Like breakfast every day,
And I'll never even say,
"What's your name?"
Or "what's your sign?"
Or "will you be mine?"
Cause I won't care.
I'll be everywhere
And nowhere all at once,
And I'll stream all this love
Like light I've absorbed,
And the careless dishwasher
Will slosh me about
Like a walrus with no sponge etiquette,
Getting everybody wet
And effervescent
And absolutely drunk
On their Love Butts.


Come bees, and sting.
Remind me of anything but him.
Come and buzz and pout
Fly about and worry me
While I try to see
What's written on this ancient
Earthen urn from Greece.
The translation comes to me piece by piece,
But I forget my place
When tears stream down my face
And my skin welts--
Two stripes for any one time I felt good.
I really should go in,
Call it a day,
Pull the screen door shut
And say enough,
But I'm so tough,
And have learned so well
To tolerate hell--
It's icy fingers
And burning stingers.
But I'd just really like to know
What this perfect Adonis said here
Before he gave that discus such a throw.


Sunday, August 30, 2015

Do you want to creep into my mind
Like the ivy along a twine,
Up into the intimate sunlight of my day?
Do you want to feel the shine
That glitters in the summertime,
That beckons butterflies
And ripens watermelons?

Feel the heat that makes the okra bloom,
The hot summer wind that blows broom corn
And pollinates it.

Enjoy me with me
As I enjoy you.
Let me see a smile or two,
And maybe a giggle,
And then as the dirt
Cries out in thirst,
The clouds rise up,
The thunder bursts,
We can run
And dance through the august rain.


Thursday, August 27, 2015

He mouthed off a lot to me.
Most of it was deleterious.
He offered me an occasional compliment
To try to keep me around.
But it's all forgotten now,
Except for this one thing he told me,
For I felt it was true,
I have perfect tits.
Well, I do.


Wednesday, August 26, 2015

I come and I go.
I blow the sand off your desert laden chest.
I listen as your worries increase
And anoint your head with oil.
I have lived 1000 times,
Always coming so close to the margins of religion,
But only ever made it as far as a temple prostitute.

But when I look into your eyes I see
The purity of the holy flame,
And then I know,
That's only as far as anyone
In a human body can get,
And much closer than most will ever know.

It's going to be ok.
I have gone back into your past,
Back into the long sinews
Of your innocent legs.
I have wanted you there
And planted the seeds of wantability.
You are now wanted.
I want you.
I have loved you there,
Stroked your soft, dark hair,
Strewn rose petals around your lovable head.
You are now lovable.
You are lovable now.
And everything will be ok,
Because I have dreamed it.

I pass all boundaries without adversity,
From neighbor good
To neighbor hood,
Every language spoken
And understood.

Yet I walk without a word,
Without a judgment,
Only a wisp of nothing am I,
A shadow of the cloudless mist,
A breath of possibilities still unkissed,
Who is,
And yet is not.

But speak and I appear.
Dream and I will draw you near.
Burn with desire and I will reach
Deep into the treasure chest
To stoke the fire
Which forges every wish,
And Love will come
And breathe its very soul upon your breast.


Tuesday, August 25, 2015

Come sing the song of the warrior.
Today you will fight for your life!
Arise to the sun,
Steel to the one
Who would come
Take your living from you.

There are those who would kill you.
What's worse are the ones who would come
And make you be something that you're not,
Steal your joy
And your soul.

But your smile is a dazzling weapon!
Your teeth are the two edge swords
That both provoke minds of the jealous,
And gird up your loins
To fight to be true to your self.
Don't let your heart be conformed
To some diluted version of your personality.


The osteoblasts build up the bones. Hollywood makes the icons.
Medical companies fabricate orthotic knees.
Surgeons replace and replace them.

Osteoclasts tear down the bone.
Police come take celebrity spokespeople away,
And lawyers come to clean up the mess that the medical industry has made.

And we wish we could find just one graven image
To show us what our god looks like.


Sunday, August 23, 2015

He's deadly at an arm's length,
Black belt in judo,
But if you watch him from across the room,
And his eyes catch yours,
He 'll look away first,
Because he's a green belt in the Art of Love.


Thursday, August 20, 2015

Those rich white men
Give her lots of tips.
They like her bleached blonde bounce,
Her childbearing hips.
They don't know that she's shacked up
With her baby's daddy,
A big muscly black man.
She smiles as she bends to hand them their food.
Their mouths water looking at her boobs.
They're all about the same age
As her dear old dad.
That's why she doesn't feel bad at all
For taking their money.


Monday, August 17, 2015


Cat and mouse grew old
So the game of cat and dog
Proved more hair raising

Sunday, August 16, 2015

My cat has feathers.
He's evolved.
His tail has split,
Or else he's grown another.
He flits about up in the trees,
His scissored tail snips the air behind him.

And now atop a high-line pole,
He sneers down and drops
The words he's cut with his tail.
He despises all mankind,
Their lack of wings, their one mere life,
Their inability to change.

It's a big house.
It sits up on top of a hill.
The rooms are spacious,
With sparse and mis-matched furniture.
I cleared out most of the rest
So that my grandchildren would have room to do cartwheels if they wished.

I walk down the wooded trail
That follows a winding creek
And lose myself in the shadows and the sun.
I walk until I smell the pines.
The aroma wakes me from my trance
And whispers, "It's time to go home."

But when I climb back up the winding way,
I find that there is nothing there,
No house, no rooms, no children, no grandchildren.
I find that I am not back where I began.
The earth has carried me to a different place in the galaxy.

No one can step in the milky spiral twice,
And this is why our laws of physics stream such margin of error.
The hidden motion of the mechanics
Has not been taken into account,
And truth has not been furnished quantumly.

I like to watch you in my rearview mirror
Because you're closer than you appear.
I have the sense that I'm safe,
With full permission of the illusion
To acknowledge that your effect on me
Is greater than I can know.

But the funhouse terrifies me.
The bulges make me think you're pregnant,
And the baby isn't mine,
And I can't tell my own appearance
From that of the clowns or bearded women.
I fear being absorbed into the mirrors
Along with everyone else,
I fear the unknown intangible distances of their universe.

And now I settle for a glimpse of you
That shines from your reflection on the water.
I see you ripple and disappear,
Return again, just as you promised,
While my own image fails,
Falls to pieces under the troubled surface.


"I don't care."

"I know.
It was more of a journal entry.
Maybe someday,
Someone will care.
I don't care.
I care."

I always liked the foot of the bed.
My toes hang down, out from under the covers,
A taste of freedom if only in the night.

But what does it matter?
That part's taken.
And I'm tired.
My weary head flops over, face down,
Way up at the crown of the pillow.
But my toes pop out from the side of the heavy quilt,
Still searching for the edge.

I wander through my life ,
Night and day,
And time doesn't really matter to me
If it's dark, and my heart says, 'walk,'
I do.
And if it's day,
And my love says, 'run away with you,'
I close my eyes and dream
In the sunlight.
And when the clock strikes two,
I feel my way,
A.M, P.M,
Makes no difference to me,
Just the same wind
To cast my heart beats upon,
And wait for the dawning
Of now.


Friday, August 14, 2015

Tryin too hard?
Never been accused.
People that know me
Know it's not true.
People who don't,
Come to see,
That I peeeee

Always a stylus
In my hand,
Decorating napkins,
Whatever's at hand,
Yellow streams
Under the stadium,
By I. P.

And if you'd come
And lie by me
I'd listen to your history,
And love every mysterious depth,
And ink your skin
With odes and hymns
And golden showers of love,
For I pee poetry.

I'm pitiful today,
A pitiful pile of clavicles
And hay that the baler couldn't reach,
Lying out here in the sun
Like a beached whale.

But if them dry bones of mine could walk,
I'd pick myself up,
Dust off the chalk from the lines that have already been drawn,
And be glad the baler neglected me,
And thankful this world has rejected me,
And leap for joy at all my tendencies,
And picture what I'd be with ligaments and tendons hooking up all these clavicles of mine,
Stringing 'em up in a fancy line and wiggling
And giggling and dancing off into time.

Why do I miss you so bad
When I've barely had a taste of you?
When my lips so chilled they're blue
Shiver from the coldness of the world?
When my puppy love with eyes not even open yet
Knows enough to oonch up
To the only source of warm it's ever had?

Why do I miss you so good?
Better than I've ever missed
Meteor showers or being kissed neath the moon?
Better than my acing grades?
Better than my denim fades
In the sun and acid rain?
Better than I bring a spoon of honey to my lips?
Better than I ever knew I could?

Oh I miss you...


The guttural grunts our ancestors made and heard
Became words,
And when we say or sing
Them we can feel the ancient vibrations
Of the things,
The emotions of humanity.

And now I'll speak for English.
Words like rush and push and hush
Have movement in their sound.
Yes even hush has a feel
That you have stopped
While everything else around
You moves quietly on.
And dawn and yawn and lawn
Stretch out across the horizon forever,
Especially if you're mowing one,
And itch and bitch and snitch and twitch
Cause an erethismatic glitch
In the part if the brain that senses irritation.
And words like wrist and fist widen our eyes to fear the strong arm gist
Of the heavy handed,
While words like honey,
Sweet as money,
Shine and drip like a sunny day,
While cares and dares we share
Tear away
And leave us bare
To truelove
For which there is no pair,
Or any true understanding.


If you really know
What you want,
Why do you bother
With Eeny Meany Miney Mo?
Just grab that tiger by the toe
And go.

And if you wanted General Tso
Why did you go to
Mama Carrinno's?
Ravioli ringlets ain't even
The privates,
Much less a Five-Star brush,
When you wanted a seasoned tryst
With a fiery rush.

And if you wanted beans and sprouts,
Why come to me with your heart hanging out,
Singing my blues all night?
Everyone knows I'm Baby Bear's porridge,
And I'm so.....
Just right.


Wow! I was just wishing for toilet paper
When what should appear,
But eight tiny reindeer?
I asked them if they had a problem with poo stickin to their fur?
And they said
And ran away.
I guess they'd heard that old joke about the bear
And the rabbit.
So here I sit
All broken hearted,
Knowing that if I just wouldn't want anything,
Or ever ask,
That all my wishes would come true.
But something there is about living
Provides a humbling need.
Could anyone be kind enough
To spare a square?

You're a mystery
Wrapped in pale lilac sheer,
Standing behind a dark heavy curtain
That light won't penetrate.
But I see your eyes,
Darting like a bird
That flew mistakenly into a warehouse.
They're veiled, too, behind rose colored glasses.
They peek at me
When they think I'm not looking.

I fumble for the hidden latch
That clasps your gilded cage.
How I long to unfasten it.


Thursday, August 13, 2015

The stars are spelling your name
In the darkness of my heart.
They're lighting my sky with you.
The brightening brings thunder,
And lightening brings day,
And I'm smiling.
I'm smiling again.

Come to the palace of my heart!
Help me find the pea,
Like the grain of sand in the oyster,
My world of mattresses proves
I'm a princess,
But I'm smiling.
I'm smiling again.


I scare people.
It's in my job description.
It's what I do.
Let me scare you.

My DNA was crafted thus,
The potter's clay, the ash, the dust
All came together just so,
And my eyes, Athena blue,
Will cast their grey and burn a hole
Through you,
And you'll be terrified too,
Cause that's what Tiggers do best, baby.

My favorite place to scare people is Walmart.
The sock aisle, or the magazines.
The good folks as they drive to work,
I scare them too.
They honk at me lots,
And I'm not sure if it's because
I'm driving slow,
Or because I'm just almost (s)topless.


Wednesday, August 12, 2015

I wander the garden on a cloudy day.
A wistful breeze blows the weeds apart,
And I spy colorful fruit just ripe for me.
I gather six black cherry tomatoes and a small sweet pepper,
Two bright yellow pear tomatoes
And a baby cucumber.
It's more than this lazy gardener needs
On a day like today,
When I'm thinking of you,
And so thankful for the scripture that says,
'He who looks back
Ain't fit for a plow.'


Tuesday, August 11, 2015

I see your head craned north of here.
I know you ache to go,
But I pull you down into the night with me,
Deeper into the darkness where
Faint stars pulse and glow,
But you have to close your eyes to see,
That you're worth it to me,
And I'm proud of you.

You're in another time zone now,
Maybe even a different astral plane,
But the mating humpbacks know the way.
They submerge as bull and cow,
Undulate as one in wax and wane
Until I see stars now, even in the day,
And you're worth it to me,
And...I'm proud of you.


Sunday, August 9, 2015

Do you pray?
Do you seek the truth?
Or have you settled into the lie of the adversary?
Oh we all want to think we would have never eaten the apple in the garden,
But we are eating it as we speak,
Talking with our mouths full of apples,
Bitter fruits,
That draw our faces down,
Make our eyes water.
But we're not crying,
Oh no,
And we're not praying either.


Friday, August 7, 2015

If I could time travel,
I'd be here one minute and gone the next.
I dance naked on the lawn at 63rd and Penn
And vanish like a ghost just as
They would come for me.
I'd swim on the shores of Waikiki,
Touch every standing stone at Carnac France.
I'd pose alone and tiny
On the giant stones of the Trilithon at Baalbek
And wave Bon Voyage to every ship
That departs west from the rocky roughs of Hebrides,
And then I would sit
Up high on the cliffs above your head,
And blow kisses down on you
Until the rings of Saturn melt
And every moon is blue.


Thursday, August 6, 2015

We can?
We can do it the easy way
Or the hard way?
Ahhhhhh, I remember them both
So well.
Oh well.

Or, I could blow it out your tailpipe
Of great indifference I guess.
But what does it matter?
I'll still be this plate of food that you don't want,
You'll still be,
Not the elephant in the room,
But the room, itself,
That wraps me so tight I warp,
That holds me inside,
Staring from wall to wall to wall
Wondering at all the strange construction,
The artifice of carpet on the floor,
When I could be outside
Picking tomatoes
Or which row I want to hoe.

Ahhh yes, my expectations are too high.
I want to sleep in my own bed.
I want to have my cake and eat it, too.
I want to star in my own autobiography,
(And I'd like to survive it).
But from what I can see,
No one survives their autobiography.
Some footnote goes on to describe the ending
After the ending,
And a dash between the years
Indexes for us everything they did
Between birth and death.

But I don't want my Hundred Yard Dash to be a run,
A smoking jolt from the starting gun,
And now we're off.
I want to walk in peace
Along the shore,
Enjoy more,
And hurry less,
And worry less about the lesser things,
And sing
A song of glory to the great,
And be very on.


When new toasters
Are for new crustomers only,
Old crustomers crust.


Wednesday, August 5, 2015

Love is a dark word.
It's a dark matter,
Dark energy.
It's not the part that you can see
Bowing at centerstage.
It lives and breathes within the fibers
Of the velvet curtains.

Love is a word that comes from under the tongue
And behind the teeth,
More at home
From deep back of the throat,
Like a guttural 'baroop' of the bullfrog,
Or the bawl of a cow
Bellaring to her calf.

But when the stage has been cleared,
Even as the empty prairie grasses blow,
Parting like the wind in your hair,
The quiet stands surreal in the spotlight.
It puts it's tongue behind it's teeth
And whispers a roar that can only be felt.
And the wave of it presses me down in my seat,
As I sit, the lone audience member,
And my heart throws open it's sashes
And sings along with you, "Love, Love, Love."


Tuesday, August 4, 2015

I don't know what you want me to do.
I never have.
I guess that's why I've always disappointed you.

But now that I've given up,
I sit, like a jack-o-lantern,
The day after Halloween,
And let you poke holes in me with a pin,
Like we did, as kids, to that poor pumpkin of ours.
We practiced our nursing skills,
Telling it, "This is going to hurt you
Much worse than it will me."


Monday, August 3, 2015

I'm going to learn from the cutting
Taken from the top of a good plant.
I've been severed and dunked in rooting hormone
And carefully placed in nutrient rich soil.

I've taken root here,
And I'm going to spread,
And cuttings will be taken from me as well,
And that's good.

It's all good.


Sunday, August 2, 2015

You know that part of your pinky finger
The doctor cut off and threw away?
That's me.
That part that was always in the way,
And couldn't quite escape the reality
Of the big machinery, the swather,
Coming down hard, trying to connect prematurely,
That part that got smashed,
That part that bled,
The part that had to have an abortion,
And you shook your head in shame and wondered why,
That part that needed sex,
Because it never had any love to compare?
Yeah,that's me.

And I know you'll never miss it.
You'll go on just like before,
Making jokes so everyone sees how tough you are,
But I wonder if some rainy day
When you sit at the kitchen table
And reach for another sip of coffee
From your old green coffee cup,
If you'll notice that part of you
That's not there anymore?
That's me.


Saturday, August 1, 2015

Ohhhhhh his love is pure and sweet.
He doesn't want me to eat
Hydrogenated fats,
But he doesn't mind if I smoke a little after sex.
He's so sweet, he even checks
Very closely,
To see if I do.