didn't sleep. instead I found
a wall in a cave & grabbed a
chipping hammer & tore it down.
finally broke thru to starlight
at 4:12 this morning.
***** bruised fingernails.
discarded piles of red clay pain
swept into outside corners.
spelunking ever inward. steve knows.
shed some tears, dave, he says.
shed your fears.
warmer in the new cave.
less damp.
room for a rug.
room enough to grow a plant.
room enough to grow.
self-perpetuating seeds.
dawn was a stranger I welcomed inside.
sleeping stalactite makes back tight.
I will wake & stretch when the sun is high
overhead like a cat in a woven basket.
mountain water trickles underground.
do yr homework.
yr body is yr home. put in work.
my body is my home. work is work.
yr body is my home. input work.

I have to believe
The old saying holds true
the Pen is the mightiest weapon
Because if I stop
to think
And find it's not
I'll surely rot
and stink
I'll be the biggest
Pile of ****
you've ever stepped in.

I have to believe
the old saying holds true
without a Woman I am nothing
Because if I stop
to think
And find it's not
I'll surely sink
into the darkest
Depressed
Sea of Nothing.

i know i'm dying
dying just like all the rest
if you think i'm lying
lay your head upon my chest

i know i'm dying
but i refuse to do it quickly
i will forever fight the cancer
& hide the fact that i feel sickly

i'm dying, all the same
i've died, far too often
but i guess dying's just
not the same
without a body in a coffin

my tendons begin to break
my bones begin to soften
lord have mercy, for christ's sake
i'll go in a fit of coughing

i know i'm dying
could you please stop laughing
my voice has grown weak
could you please tell a doctor
what's happening?

I wanted so badly to touch you,
that night in my car,
I wanted so badly to touch you,
just my hand on your arm.

I wanted so badly to speak to you,
to say something cute,
I wanted so badly to speak to you,
but in awe of your beauty
my voice was stricken mute.
Dumbstruck-- I was struck dumb,
by the power of your presence,
my heart and lips grew numb.

I wanted so badly to hold you,
that night in my car,
to sing you a love song,
or hum a few bars.
But I didn't do that,
No, I must have been slacking
thats why I'm out here at midnight;
not begging, just asking:

If you're not busy tonight
with other boys,
If you will sit and listen;
I have retrained my voice.
It is not weak, no longer out of bounds,
and with it I wish to speak,
to make cohesive sounds.

i haven't fogotten
that night
we waded
naked
knee deep into
that brown
river

the summer
had my back
and kissed
my shoulders but
the rest of mine
was yours

the moon was
high
and full of himself
and i could see
in your eyes
you were too

Good God
theres this girl
& she's all I can think of,
without her it's madness
that I'm on the brink of
She robs me
at night
because she's all
I can dream of.
She's just
like sunlight,
but thin
like a beam of.
I want to be
her star player,
or at least on
the same team of.
If she offered
me her heart
I'd take only
one small part,
like if she was a house
that I could be just
the kitchen sink of,
or if she were a
great and glorious mountain,
I could wade into the
lowest valley stream of.

sunrise
i'm stumbling thru a salt fog
out on the coast in a campground
with two tiny squares of paper stained
on my tongue looking for a patch of dry yellow
withered grass in the tall dunes to lay down in for a while
until the pressure of tears subsides or overcomes the corners
of my eyes & temples

i'll spend the day tight-chested
under the sinewy arms of a magnolia
tree with teeth clenched against hiccups
& clear snot running freely out of my nose
down my chin as green tea waves lick my twinkling
toenails with an open-throated warble & beads of sweat
collect in the hollows of my skinny knees & race down to my
vulnerable achilles

i'll be eaten alive by bloodthirsty
beach fleas after the sun burns off the fog
& i'll ride the high salt wave with the melodies
of sunrise birds like a sikh on a psychedelic print
karastan rug with hair to my shoulders & dirt on my
knees while the beer-hall bellows of tree frogs echo over
my stretched earlobes

sure i'll watch the girl weaving
thru the shimmering florida heat wave with
hypnotic green eyes & long legs that disappear
briefly into thin white cotton shorts & then emerge
again at the endless curve of the hipbone peach creme
neck adorned by a single shining jewel riding a thin rose
gold coiled rope

while i'm listening to
willie nelson & struggling to hold
back tears she waves i wave back in
the reflexive naked itch to be a gentleman
she slips thru the dunes with fluid grace & sits
down with hair smelling like orange blossoms &
begins to hum-sing like a pink finch in champagne
& i finally give in to the impulse to cry

when i do she holds me
with about an hour before the sun sets
where the shoreline doubles back on itself
we watch as the dolphins catch rides through
the breakers on the last yellow shafts of sunlight
before the cool night air closes on us like a fist around
an azure plastic doorknob

the ocean bit the sun &
as her lips found my butterscotch
cheeks & the trees sizzled behind us
the stars swarmed like a bright cloud of
bees overhead we danced in swirls of wood
smoke whispering secrets to the campfire & her
******* stiffened when my tongue touched her belly
& the flying embers whistled

tonight
we'll sleep together in a blanket
tangle of sweat soaked beach towels
like two organic granola humans fighting
to stay children forever & when i press the plump
button of her ******* she sinks deep into my chest like
it's upholstered in expensive leather & twitches like a moth
seduced by the glow of a kerosene lamp

when we wake up
wet & stuck together before dawn
she kisses my tumid lips with her eyelashes
& pokes holes in my morning breath with her tongue
she dresses in a golden chrysanthemum gown & asks me
to zip it up over her powder pale shoulder-blades so she can
escape across the crunchy wildfire fodder & wet pavement to dance
& kick in the frothy white surf opposite the dunes as the first waves
of heat bounce like vectors in a microwave oven but i am much
more comfortable here folded up tight like a lawn chair in a
hurricane in an alternate world where my heart hasn't
been reduced to the floor pedal of your mother's
foot powered sewing machine in the
forgotten attic an alternate world
in which my name became
more than a delicate
vocabulary flicked
from your
tongue

i long to live quietly inside a hurricane
whirring thru a dingy tralier park in
an alternate world where my young pink
heart hasn't been reduced to live
under the floor pedal of your mother's
foot powered sewing machine
in the forgotten attic -- a surrogate
universe in which my name
became more than
a delicate vocabulary
flicked easily away
from your tongue

the fire is brave.
the fire is an empty space.
the fire is a sharp object.
the fire is a toy.
the fire is a female.

oh how she burns,
my      god     she     burns

the fire is gentle.
the fire is severe.
the fire is dancing.
the fire is impending.

the fire is naked
not named.

the fire is pure,
untamed.

the fire is pure.

i showed up at your work with a bottle of wine
and stood in the parking lot for two hours
with your skin in my thoughts like
sin and sun-heat on a garden of blacktop
twisted my ankle, leaning into the wind
with a sign that read
'i feel alright
i won't stop dreaming
i feel okay'
until you quit your job with a screech
took off your apron, spinning into bright oxygen
and crashed into my majestic arms
showed me your legs in a sundress

we ran and danced on a july breeze
and sang to each other the songs our souls
kept secret for so long until
your father and brother found us
and dislocated your arm when
you said you loved me like
the wind at night

i repaired you with kisses and tears
the next night when you snuck out
and we swayed to jazz in the dark on
the old bridge a mile behind your house
as the moon wept radiant heat
we giggled and smashed windows
the trees exploded with laughter through
the canyons

you caressed me with your eyes
this morning between shrieks of tightness,
your father and brother long forgotten
in a field in our hometown,
as you wipe last night's lipstick from
my throat and chest and stomach
your heated cheek-flesh screams whispers
of being free as you lap me

and i drink milk from a cold glass.

i am the man that you don't need anymore
just another thing you left behind
in an empty house
i'm still feeling vulnerable
like the forgotten iron with the burnt
face frazzled cord
& i still crave the precious gem
of your soul miserably
because i am a fool
or a hummingbird addicted
to sugar water icicles

i wanted to know where you came from
because my heart wanted to sing to you
like a nervous chickadee
through the bubbly white noise
& champagne static
of the bar where we first met

i wanted to know what you see when you look up
through the state of grace that you live in
if it's only the sun
or 40,000 angels buried
in dust & clouds
so i could write it down
or paint it on a stretched tight canvas
& show you my work

i still want to know where you run to
when the rain comes down
in sheets & your hair
kisses dark streaks
onto your cotton shirt

the moon stays up late to show me
how far down i am in the galaxy
of freckles dusted across your shoulders
your hair is a fiery tangle of comet tails
escaping in knots from my wet fingers
your body is a mystical
collection of dark matter
screaming blue eyes &
all i ever wanted was
to be destroyed by the
cyanide on your lips

i filled the bathtub with purple swan orchids &
sprawled out on the opulent karastan rug
like a lame duck waiting on a lilypad
for your footsteps & fingers to astonish me with
dizzy incandescence

you uncoiled my winces
with your aching summer breath
desire coursed vivid thru my veins
like the diamond sparkle of dawn-light
we intertwined & you attached yourself to my soul
& when you watched me, i felt seen
--a flower blooming in the basket
on your windowsill in the teeming light
my passion dissolved the disquietude
more simply, you set me free
you rearranged me
you dismantled me
& when i revealed myself to myself
in a swirling mirrored vertigo
i was drenched & purged on the altar

& now the emptiness is the consolation
i carry like a dream in my hands
the silence between us the only refuge
then the rains came in june
& bludgeoned the sky
it groans in despair
my chest doesn't burn anymore
it feels more like a bruise
& i linger among the futility
& wind-ripped flower petals
outside your shuttered window
like a frigid dancer on the brink
of nihilistic oblivion grasping
only for the bottom
my guilt does all of the thinking
in the wasting light
& the last note of your goodbye
barely greets me long-forgotten
from the dim shore--
one last regret--
another secret kept from me.

it's not the burning alive that's really that bad,
it's that it lasts forever
after a while you get used to the pain
if your heart and your mind work together

it's not the water in your lungs that's really that bad,
if your mind is already sick with fever
cool chlorinated water feels refreshing
and you eventually forget to reach for the drain lever

it's not the bloodletting that's really that bad,
I feel lighter on my feet already
a foggy film shades my eyes
for my final judgement I am dressed and ready.

she looked like a hipster
with lips
begging me to kiss her
so I
slipped her a dipster
but that
******* her sister
so I
let down my zipper
and dropped
a real McShitster
but then
she asked me to fist her
while I
was ******* her sister
but at
glance I noticed
a blister
so I
ran off and
ditched her

Alright, *****, here-- I wrote you a sonnet.
Your eyes can see & you can read, what do you mean, 'what's on it?'
Oh that ring there? (cough) That's just the place where I set my whiskey glass down to cool off.
Please let me explain, as I was drowning my pain, I sort of let go of some of my mucus.
Don't sit there upon your high chair and beg & plead 'how could you do this?'
Yes it does smell salty like the sea.
I'm glad you mentioned that, you see
I used my tears to wipe up the blood--yes, that blood there--no, its not my blood.
I swear it's not what you think, it was the pen,
He started spitting up ink.
It's wrinkled, I know, my fists were clenched while writing it.
Oh and this thing here? (cough)
That's just my left thumbnail, I was unconsciously biting it,
it must have fallen off.

i once knew a girl who liked to get ****** hard
during rainstorms wearing striped purple socks
she liked to have her face bounce off the wooden head-board
while her hungry teeth tried to grab at it
something about the thunder and lightning finger-banging heaven outside really got her juices flowing she said

so i'm out on my front porch naked again
unadorned except for flowers pasted on my eyes
and a small burnt-black buddha dangling around my neck
not meditating or peacefully practicing yoga
just jacking off alone
small white *** clenched tight
legs bent at the knee thigh muscles quivering
against the shadows and the weight of my glistening body
fist wrapped hard around inflamed ****
mimicking the hot friction of the sky

i am a pure creature with potent armpits freebasing a rainbow
as the birds grow loud in the trees and two
paper tabs soak into the flesh of my tongue
grunting and swatting at oversized mosquitoes
my size twelves with unclipped toenails grip and rake
the edge porch concrete underneath as thunder hovers
over my jungle and lightning beats the humid air
sending gooseflesh tingling up my spine
i'm standing in subtropical light casting
a big silhouette against the sky and treetops

the garden of eden is my most sensitive memory
and i am a piece of well-oiled machinery
brushed with gold a brave slender boy
simple and greased with a glowing soul and
***** ******* gesturing in the direction of the stars
fingertips tickling the steepest part of the curve
i am screaming my testimony shattering the
skylight and any remaining windows voice warped
into hook-shaped echoes like a wood pole trembling and chanting in the pre-tornado wind

the rain will start to come just as soon as i do
i can smell it on the wind so i reach around and press the tip of my littlest finger into my own tender ******* like they do in *****-tonk saloons because ******* i'm feeling frisky
pulse swelling in my throat face growing flush
temples and nostrils flaring in a state of mindless joy
and sure enough as the hanging fern sweats the first drops
of sugar-rain onto my chest i'm drifting through heaven backward
reeking with attitude squeezing thick fluid out
of a flexible container aiming it at the desert rose colored
sun stained and loyal to the very end
as sweat and rain collect in puddles
at the back of my skinny knees
i'm paralyzed with clarity and
blinking under pre-hypnotic
eyebrows

her hair was a cloud of cigarette smoke
and flowed down like beer
but smelled more like a whiskey distillery

she looked down on me
with her knees on my chest, she
popped her gum and
arched her back,
drilled a hole in my heart

but my heart still pounds and pumps
just like thunder or gasoline
when i remember that night,
and those next four days
we spent storming into
each other's secret hiding places
and driving reckless into the night.

we shared a nickel's worth
of bourbon
and a crumpled cigarette

when her parents found us
we were both
wrapped 'round each other
and in the stiff dawn light i wished
i was still wearing those
silly-looking shades.

I've been stabbing at
the promised land until
my veins collapsed
because drugs make the sun
shine harder than its ever shimmered
in all my life & sometimes
I hear the stars cry
as they fall

because I've fallen too
& my blue eyes have
cried harder this year
than they've ever shimmered
in all my life

but I'll never sleep
in the gutter again

I won't bury
my head
underground

& I'll never hang
by a thread instead

I'll build up a mountain with my life
until I feel the throat of the world
swallow me whole

& when it does one day
maybe you won't
remember my name
but please don't forget
the things we laughed at together
or the sound of my voice saying yours

I swear to God I'll remember
your fingers forever & I'll never
forget the secrets
you whispered about your scars
or the time we threw the lock
on your aunt's bedroom door
while you were babysitting
your youngest niece

Hey!
I'm down here
with bug bites and blood smears
just trying to climb up a ladder

Hey!
I'm down here
with all doubts and all fears
just looking for momentum to gather

Hey!
I'm down here
with the Bikes and the Beards
just grasping for a rope or a tether

Hey!
I'm down here
with hardened gums and dried tears
just wishing for hope or a feather

Hey!
I'm down here
with the poets and the queers
trying to write down what really doesn't matter

Hey!
I'm down here
blinking lights and drinking beers
straining my ear to hear your chatter

Hey!
I'm down here
with full lungs and three cheers
banging pots to make a high clatter

he waltzed right into
your entryway
the same door you
closed on me

he paraded straight down
your hallway
you didn't pause him
to stop and
say please

when I was there
I tread carefully;
even got down
on my knees

he twisted your ****
and opened you up,
I simply asked for your keys

he made a beeline through
your corridor
he barged in because
you asked for more

he is where I'm
supposed to be
but I'm not what I
had hoped to be

There is a war going on inside of me
the battleground is my brain
One part is the rational side of me
the background, "You're insane!"

There is more going on inside of me
two animals I cannot tame
One part roaring lion inside of me
the other just purrs your name

There is a door opening inside of me
these things I cannot change
One side looks like Nirvana to me
where everyone's dressed the same
The other room's also familiar to me
it resembles Poe's House of Pain

I want to see your Pain.
I want to know who put it there,
and I want to see them slain.

I want to taste your Pain.
I want to kiss you
where it hurts and
I want to hold you tight
against the rain.

I want to feel your Pain.
I want you to whisper
in my ear the name of
the one who turned you
so blue.

I want to know your Pain.
I want to peer into
your fiery core
and I want to hold you
behind closed doors.

I want to heal your Pain.
I want to cuddle with you
on a couch and if
you want that too
I will be able to
bury my shame.

I know a girl who's not very nice
I know a girl who'll hold your ****
in a vice and
I know a girl who will stay out all night.

I know a girl who won't fly a kite
I know a girl who does things
out of spite and
I know a girl who won't look good in white.

I know a girl who's repulsed by splendor
I know a girl who returns love letters
to senders and
I know a girl who's a terrible pretender.

I know a girl who won't laugh at my jokes
I know a girl who made it all
one big hoax and
I know a girl and I hope she chokes.

I'm going to rile my way
out of this hollow
I will do what I must,
beg steal & borrow

I'm spitting bile today
venom laced with sorrow
there's no one I trust
no patience for tomorrow

I'm not going to smile today
let them all think I'm insane
I'll use words like
**** and *******
and I'll take Christ's name in vain

I won't walk a mile today
not in anyone else's shoes
my feet are just to big,
already tripping over the blues

I won't write with style today
I'll ***** these words onto paper
because I woke up on cold tile today,
realized I'm just a bottom-scraper.

This is for the woman on the paper
the one I keep inside my mind
so no other boy can take her
my life over to her I've signed
in my own blood
on her God's acre
I've never cursed
nor lied
nor beat or betrayed her
but I'll **** any man
who thinks he can save her.
I have the gift of gab;
an affair with the paper--
her sensuous aroma,
her curious flavor.
I do not use my wrist to stab;
I use my hand for writing--
she stands before me now,
so naked and inviting;
if it were you inside my head
you'd see it's quite a sighting.
I'll keep this going:
she can hold my attention span
I hope you'll listen as
I share the master plan:
I want to revive her,
just to touch her skin again.

I sat & smoked.

I watched lightning dance wicked metallic fingers across night sky.

I wondered if we'd give ourselves a chance; if we'd try.

I heard the thunder as he stomped out his only response,

Which was,

"Only time spent will tell."

--My cigarette went to Hell.

when i recite my poems
i don't shout
or laugh
i'm not asking your opinion
seeking your approval
or challenging your belief
in god

i don't even have them
memorized
and don't want to
i'm punching out words and feelings
from a page
like the grand marshall
of a ticker tape parade

i'm so tired of poetry slams
where dignity is stomped dry
and teenaged lesbians try
to change the collective consciousness
of the older generation

there's nothing original
in poetry anymore
every black kid has a poem
which starts with him holding
a black and white photo and
the lines on his great grandmother's face
as she sweeps the yard with a broom
made out of a bundle of twigs
and no shoes on her feet
and he's put it in a book
or won some scholarship with it

while every feminist ****
and post-pubescent *** have
heart-wrenching tales
set to the soundtrack of a john hughes flick
of a time when they were
mistaken for a man or
forced to **** a fat man's ****
in an alleyway somewhere
in Cleveland or Boston
someplace where the cold
pavement left their knees bruised

what if i told you
we've all ****** his ****
and nearly all of us hated it
we've all shoveled ****
and your sob story
doesn't make us cry

i still shake and crumple
the paper
no matter how many times
i read on stage
i still mumble and cough
and spill my drink
but maybe that's why
i've never
won
a
prize.

i can't write anything good until i've had my morning coffee,
the words are comatose inside me

i can't write anything good until i've brushed my teeth
the words are rotting inside each breath

i can't write anything good until i've taken a shower
the words will shine or be washed away

i can't write anything good until i've sobered up
until then all you get is
belligerent
repetitive
uncreative
pathetic

There's a hole in my head
where the wind comes in.

There's a hole in my head
where certain sounds leak out.

There's a hole in my head
where sin comes in,

My whole head burns and I just found out.

There's a hole in my head
where my words slur out,

Most of the time I'm the only one who knows what I'm talking about.

There's a bowl on my head
where you can put advice in.

There's a scroll in my head
to write it all out.

There's a troll in my head so no one finds out.

Today, today
I threw away
everything in my life
that was taking up space;
I dropped what I was doing
and I prepared a place
for you
now there's room enough
for two
you can be with me and
I'll be with you.

Tonight, tonight
I'll do everything right
call you cute pet names and
kiss you softly in moonlight
I will kiss
and I will hold you
and softly I will say,
"For you, my dear, for you
I threw everything away."

i have
******* in my pocket
                    i have
tricks up my
                    sleeves
i'm not asking you for much
just for you to simply
                     breathe
                     and breed
see, this is what i
                     need need need
kiss my mouth
and bite my chest
my cries of pain do not
                     heed heed heed
for they are cries of pleasure
                     yes, oh yes indeed

                     i have
the truth hidden inside a locket
                     i have
a naked picture of you

there was a time
when we slept together in train cars
and you kissed my ***** cheek
like a mother

you used to say things like
it'll all be over soon
or
no hope out here today

and we were hungry and
lonely until the sun came up
and made sure we were fed
and held a conversation with us.

if i wake up,
i will kiss the lips of a thousand
raindrops

if i wake up,
i will feed ten thousand
starving children

if i wake up,
i will crush a thousand
dreams

if i wake up,
i will ring ten thousand
liberty bells

if i wake up,
i will light a thousand
green lightbulbs

if i wake up,
i will drink ten thousand
mingling rivers

the words are
dangling desperately

tip of my
tongue-brain

I will write until
the last words jump to the page
or
my hands grow withered and weary from age.

I will write until
my thoughts turn sour
or
I take the final plunge off some bank's high tower.

I will write until
there's nothing left to find
or
I start leasing the attic of my mind.

I will write until
the Great Salvation comes, to save us from the rapture
or
If it doesn't, and we're left here, I'll keep writing long after.

I will write until
with words, the perfect image do I capture
or
If I can't, I will try until all the bones in my hand are fractured.

I will write until
I have conquered the Hunger
or
If I don't, please feel free to take a knife and slip me under.