it was on the 2nd floor on Coronado Street
I used to get drunk
and throw the radio through the window
while it was playing, and, of course,
it would break the glass in the window
and the radio would sit there on the roof
still playing
and I'd tell my woman,
"Ah, what a marvelous radio!"
the next morning I'd take the window
off the hinges
and carry it down the street
to the glass man
who would put in another pane.
I kept throwing that radio through the window
each time I got drunk
and it would sit there on the roof
still playing-
a magic radio
a radio with guts,
and each morning I'd take the window
back to the glass man.
I don't remember how it ended exactly
though I do remember
we finally moved out.
there was a woman downstairs who worked in
the garden in her bathing suit,
she really dug with that trowel
and she put her behind up in the air
and I used to sit in the window
and watch the sun shine all over that thing
while the music played.

be gentle
i said
be gentle
as i'm fumbling small gestures of love
in my hands
i'm holding
tiny strands of wanting
fall between my fingers
i want nothing
i want it all
i want to be gentle to myself
when it comes to this

making a playlist titled you you you
taking a pill at the **** zoo
******* fools wasted on the pavement
chasing waists on the pavement

i'm tired of these ******* games you're playing
tic tac toes on the cusp of my aortic valve
**** hippocratic oath falsifying fingerprints

i am to you, just an oddball goodfornothing sonofabitch
semi-sweet curvature of the lungs
tar-coated nail-biting feminist *****
some uppity analyzing self-righteous bore

well *******, too, then
*******, too
i'll do alright in the world, got some chew
that i'll spit out a rhyme with, all that hullabaloo
i am those whos, on a dead *** dandelion making wishes on elephants (such buffoons)
and finding that donkeys are nothing but mumbling tools

if she had asked me, then
"Do we all die?"
i would have answered in a solemn sigh:
"Of course we do."
the realism impenetrable, the grounded logistics.

she asks me now
"Can we exist in other dimensions?"
and i reply, with a taxed, drudging honesty:
"I have."

I am dead, rotting
the flies are buzzing
the smell
is unbearable
the maggot are hatching
eating my skin
pealing off my disguise
I am
The lord of the flies

There's this mermaid girl I knew once.
She had long blonde hair,
and she smoked tobacco under water.
She defies the laws of the universe.
She had deep green eyes
that screamed the names of lonely sailors.
I hear they got lost in her eyes,
so lost no nautical device could guide them away.
Her ******* were covered by shells.
Sea shells that glowed their gratitude as they lay on her chest.
I hear she moved exactly like the ocean, or maybe the ocean mimicked her.
When I heard her voice,
it was like bubbles.
Like bubbles that begin at the bottom of the sea and run through the water to so delicately burst on the top.
But even delicate bubbles have capacity for violence.
We, they, you, have reverence for a voice they tell stories about.
Her face shone like the ripples of light at sunset that stunned the sailors in awe.
Her hands, smooth like pearls.
Her lips, tantalizingly terrifyingly beautiful as all the reefs the wrecked the ships.
I knew a mermaid girl once. She had long blonde hair and she smoked tobacco underwater.

i have no idea
why i can feel a boxing match
in my rib cage
where bone and heart meet.
or why my skin tingles like i am
watermelon, left on the ground after a picnic,
and the ants have found me.
i don't know what this is-
i'm in enemy territory,
this dumb thing called love.

i was hoping it wasn't true,
all those rumors about you.

the way you treat girls like dolls,
break their hearts,
and laugh as their tears fall.

how you touched that girl,
made her feel special,
then left her,
after you got what you wanted.

i closed my eyes and shook my head,
my heart beating way to fast,
then tumbling out of my chest,
leaving me feeling dead.

how could you?

how could you watch as she weeped,
and not feel anything.

i thought you were a good boy,
but no,
you are a very, very bad one