What I wanted
For a home,
This artifice
Bone for
Bone
Thankful
When the creak
Of winter breaks
It's hold and
Thin green
Stems
Hide the broken
Parts
Home

tis your fate
lick it off a plate
proffered to you
under the table
and between
your knees
(love comes in at
at the eye and
quickly
heads south
you see)
you there, you
with the mouth
pretty please
open wide
and guide a fella
straight inside
(love saves the
day, not yours but
someone's)
anyway

The truth hangs inside
of a cedar closet that
      hasn't been opened
in forever
It's knotted and tangled
just like her, at least
      we hope she might
Recognize some of the
dresses, dressed up
just like she
      has always
      been
(a ***** in the making
living in sin)
a march of decades
minus the wedding
rice and the fair and
      going price of a
groom

Poor sullied should have
been bride if not for the
      timing, the misaligned
stars,
a fate not of her making
yet who but she carried the
scars?

June is a month she would
like to sleep through, a long
funeral

as each of her sisters met her
match, down the aisle, disposed
    of, as well they should have  
been but
      this one refused to disappear
this one is
all too present
and what to do
      with this one
here?

(They have already inscribed
her gravestone, she, without
the good manners to make good
on the date) t'is her wedding
      day and finally here

darling don't be late)

You
who anchors yourself
to my side like a bayonet
a harpoon
You
without a
*******
clue
don't waste your time
trying to sponge up
such grime
You
will never rise to
such dizzy heights
of my kind of dirt
You
can wish it
You
can imagine it
what it's like to fertilize
the same flower
I do
You can dream
and who am I to
stop you?

In your fairytale of hurt
I am meant to be the first
casualty

That's how each garden
on earth will surprise you

(and) Me

Me!

Gone of all want
and catastrophe!
laying the drama at your
feet is the best I can do
for we

You
are a made for TV drama
scarce and scared dear
Me and me (and
me)

Our garden

You are a wolf in
the house of doom
I even moved aside,
packed everything of
mine into one room
I gave you the lay
of the land, let you
roam through each
broken window
broken promise
with blood hanging
in threads, yours
now, not mine
while you crawled
close to the floor
up and down the
stairs, red trail
the sentry of
my heart
on all fours as
you tore each
chamber apart
love in one corner
love in the next
four times love
darling wolf
of my pulse
whole and
part

Ah but I am so
****** hungry
Dontcha know
Licked lips
Drop of drool
I swell with the
Smell of toast
Butter swirled
With honey
(Honey)
Slake my hunger
For you
Not so much
But it will have
   to do

My darling,
my dear,
fancy (prance
yourself over
here)
My darling,
my dear
another
soppy evening
bit in two
(if only, if only)
you knew
Cold as a gem
on a dead finger
you (if only
you)
You
my darling
my dear
(****)
you, if only
you would
do
(Anything
would do
no longer
haunted by
expectations
I give them
solidly to
you
minus the plus
side, one hell
of a ride
(****)
that too

The only thing missing
is a sore **** feeling,
a vague sense of
unwholesomeness,
and an unusually
urgent desire to
be alone

I prefer the honesty
of a good alley mugging
rather than these missing
moments stretched into
long hours of doubt

Never mind the endless
work of you figuring me
figuring you out

Was me, was you,
was too dark to tell?

Loves me, hates me
and which one of us
in this given month
is clearly going to
hell?

The men who have been
so big on honesty, well
they sure did lie a lot
and the sorting out of truth
from lies and the constant
refrain of I Forgot?

Frankly all of that
has left me cold and
the obtuse angle of your
constant accusations?
that too got awfully old

As I am dear- awful
and old

you are what the woods
look like on a starless
night and through a beam
of lantern light, swinging
first left then right from
my arms, gripped fingers
and the lightening bugs
you look quite simply
lovely in that quick
flood of flight
you look just right
like a breath between
bites, the sweep of
that lamp, remember?
and if light could sing
if darkness could make
a harmony of those
absent stars and so
many other lost
things? we could
make a forest sing
me and you simple
like that, beautiful
fact

He gave me a lovely shell
shiny with abalone which
I promptly likened to a
shovel
He gave me a stunning
silk cape which I turned into
a winding cloth
When he presented me
with a brilliant green box
carved from the rarest jade
I thanked him for the
fancy sarcophagus

He showered me with love
so unrelenting it poured
down more sodden then
his tears
And his hundred adoring
glances?
I told him they were like
like the worms that will
one day live in my
bones

Today he brought me
a massive bunch of plump
white roses and from behind
them I heard him say, well
I guess these can be your
funeral wreath-
I sighed and waved him
away

Really, darling, must you
always be so *******
morbid?

What is left
of me here,
well, I saved it
for you my dear
in the tiny bowl
of my hands,
loose so as not
to **** it, with
fingers caged
close enough
to not spill it;
I feel the wings
beat frantically
against my palms
what sorry words
can I tell my heart
when all words
have gone?

The Facts, brought to you
by Miss (never Misses)
Battle Ax
She has taken copious
notes (and even looked up
the word 'copious')
just in case
and in this case, well
The Facts are quite simply
The Facts (follow the blood
smear, the footfall patterns
the mincing and dear
little tracks, follow her
to her corner, the one
she's worn a dent in
the one that wears
a penumbra of her
and all of her
misgivings like
a well fitted hat
The Truth) dear
kind of a little less
of that here, wanders
around kind of a
little more of a
sneer (hurts, is
LOUD) a bit of
a SMACK
and
She cannot follow
the rhythm of your
wanting because she
wants it more (than
you) would learn
to dance (for you)
would eat her own
hands for you and
follow her pointed
fingers through
every hour of
every beat of
every breath
of every (once
was yours dear)
Fact

He was all like and
I was all like
y'know
what I meeeeeen,
like?!
and then I was
like noooooo
waaaaaay! and
then he was like
wuhwuhwuh
why not?
like? and
like, oooh my
GAAAD,
like ****!
y'know what I mean
like **** THAT!
EEEEEEW! like
no way! no?
maybe what!?
like, jealous
much? like
WHAT is her
damage!? O
MY
GOD
I hate her, like
totally like!
WHAT a
*****!
y'know?
like did you see
what she was wearing
like?

I like baked fish
I like a fish in a dish
I like Lillian Gish
I like to dress up
in a gigantic wide
brimmed hat and
go to the movies

I like smooth stones
I like sun bleached bones
I like raspberry scones
I like to hide behind
the bookshelf and
scream when you
walk by

I like sleeping dogs
I like foggy fogs
I like Prague
I like to sob into
a pillow and never
wake up again

I want to make a
ring around the rosey
(a pocket full of poesy)
a lean tiny bit of me
LISTEN TO ME!
I scream
I care
I want to lie under
your every mistake
Love darling
(hands, darling
around your near
and dear throat)
You *******
you can't brag or even
gloat? your love means
not a ******* thing
and I was the last one
in on your hoax

That's okay
that's just fine
my wrists sticky
with someone else's
the halfhearted
coax of no particular
design

It is not the blood
that hurts; it's not
even the love trust
stuck in your throat

It's the absence of
all of that

That makes me gone
for good

I have decided (and
there is simply no
arguing here) 'if'
is the sexiest word
in the English language
and once unloaded of
its baggage and all of
those maddening
contingencies, 'if' is
like two legs dancing
around in a striptease
'if' is the most lewd,
the most suggestive
thing on two legs,
one letter leaning
against the other,
the most beautiful
***** you have ever
seen, standing on
a street corner
the 'i' buck naked while
the 'f' blandly looks
away (yes, too often
the 'i' is an embarrassing
display)
the 'f'  staggers
under its own sort
of weight, having
lent itself to 'u' and  
the beginning of 'fu' 'fu'
'fu' you (but you are
already stuck now
aren't you?)
pay the 'i' up front
while the 'f' crooks
a finger and you
can do nothing
but obey this is
why the 'i' so often
breaks itself in two
always too much
but never quite
enough, without
the 'f' nothing
absolutely nothing
will do

when I told my father
"I wanta go
to art school"
well
he flew into a
rage- having been
there himself and after
******* in a wooden
box for four years
(with NOTHING
to show for it)
I dunno, maybe
I was drunk
or maybe I hated
him as much as I do
now but it sure made
a good joke
many years passed
and having not
committed suicide
before it was too
late I went to off
to get my degree
in philosophy
HAH!

You hodge podge
of a person you
random facsimile
you who would
pull yourself off
of four legs just
to have a go
at me

Climbing up the
evolutionary ladder
keeping me at bay
while that lizard
brain of yours
feels the real time
of our mutual
decay

Something soft in me
the warm red blood
in me, you could smell it
even from under that stone
with one eye peering
above the mud while
the other eye plays
dead, white as a
bone

You kept your weapons
well hid but in the soft
light of night and under
a bowl of stars I could
hear your claws sliding
over white flesh and
scars

You, fooling me by
standing on two legs
and showing off those
practiced and opposable
thumbs- how ******
gallant of you

(And I watched him
fall on his neck, biting
himself in half; in his
parody of a human
he forgot to add a
spine)

So often it is shortly after
the worst of them drops
dead and then like magic
the insufferable ****
becomes the man
above all men

Already cast in bronze
he is, before even one
blade of grass can grow
directly above his
sainted head

Of course when he
was quite alive she
could not wish him
more than dead
and all of the misery
he brought?
She turned into a
eulogy instead

The only solace left
to offer this deadly
boring woman?
with any bit of luck
she will soon be
joining him

From a child's angle
all lessons come from
above; and the lifted
chins with eyes empty
in search of truth-
whence comes that
whirling dervish
of a thing, whence
comes all lessons
in love

Perhaps this is seed
and the source,
to believe love is
something to look
up at, while those
trusting eyes that
encourage lies
only reinforce
the curse

And then next there
was Santa Claus, who
expressed his love in
in more solid gifts
and another lesson
yet to learn- if you
hate what Santa
brought your ***
shut the **** up
and move on

Razors pain you;
Rivers are danp;
Acids stain you;
And drugs cause cramp.
Guns aren't lawful;
Nooses give;
Gas smells awful;
You might as well live.

By the time you swear you're his,
    Shivering and sighing,
And he vows his passion is
    Infinite, undying-
Lady, make a note of this:
    One of you is lying.

For those who say
the way to perfect love
is to trust and let go
of everything
and you can't love
fully unless you
put your whole heart
into it
that love is a risk
in each case and
nothing ventured
is nothing gained?
The aftermath is
anything but romantic
dontcha think?

There are many things
well worth doing and  
even some that might
preserve my soul-
the hot pursuit of
the good and eternal
seems a reasonable
goal
But the moment I ought
or should or must do this
or that or some other
virtuous thing
all of my best intentions
simply leave me bitter cold
and send me headlong
into flames eternal

Okay, I brace myself, "okay" being a sort of mantra either spoken alone or placed at the end of every sentence with the lift of a question mark. I do try and keep this okay thing to myself, packed in my head along with other stuff, okay?
And so I stumble, verbally if not silently, okay okay (okay?) as I count down the minutes (25) when I absolutely MUST leave the house even if this time it is By Choice, For Pleasure, whatever that is. I'll call it Not Torture.
I haven't practiced removing the grimace for such a long time I fear it's stuck there.
I scared a Boy Scout earlier in the day and I swear I did nothing at all scary. I bet there will be Boy Scouts out there. Maybe not at the bar but at the Target. I've never seen a Boy Scout at the Target but one time my friend saw a Mormon in the parking lot. He was racing headlong toward him and he panicked, my friend, so  he blurted out "You are the devil." The Mormon was pretty upset.
By now I have to assume there are Boy Scouts everywhere and naturally I am scared to death. I assure you I can develop a full blown phobia over a matter of hours and that's when I try not to think about it. Well, you try not thinking about Boy Scouts! Especially after you've resolved to NOT THINK ABOUT BOY SCOUTS. Aversion therapy doesn't work in case you were gonna suggest that.
Can I sue the Boy Scouts?
How many minutes do I still have left?
Is it still legal in West Virginia to walk behind someone saying over and over again in either of their ears YOUR GONNA DIE YOU'RE GONNA DIE? I'm pretty sure they legalized it within the borders of NYC (even Staten Island, which surprises me). This was due to a statute made during the whole explosion of Performance Art.
How many minutes do I have left?
Why don't I get a prize, twenty bucks or something, for fooling everyone and convincing them I'm okay?

Give me what I want
and you will never hear
another peep
Give me the dagger
practiced blood
drawn from me
to you
Give me something
silent, creeping
and quiet, like
your love
never voiced
when you said
I knew what
you meant
but didn't

I want nothing more
of your sweet dumb
eyed camel looking
score, as if love can
come in at the eyes
rather than pulled
between my thighs

Well then! which course
is the worst for the wear
and tear?
to **** yourself beyond
some skinny little freak
of a girl's stare?

Dear sir I hope my
brown eyes followed
you every *******
where, I hope
they followed you
into each of your
legitimate beds,
one after the
other, Mr. Man
full of himself and
all that wasn't
said

Dear sir I hope I stuck
to you like a flea, drawing
blood from you as you
did from me

Took a Jenny, did
you now? in your
whirl and twirl
of a gal?
Who's to say
what inspired you
or what made your
hands lay where they
lay? Took a Jenny
for a girl,
(didya now?
a swirl and churl)
Who's to say what's
done is done
(and what ya done
with a Jenny
so far away?)
took a Jenny
from a poem plain
as plain, Jenny in
field of rye? catch
a Jenny by the hook
and I? (**** a
Jenny)
didya now?) and
what came next
for this flattened
doll? the flattened
grain, the flattened
wheat, brown eyes
staring up atcha
through the kernel
through the germ
through the wasted
bits of seed
when Miss Jenny
tried to become

Something

Through the
chaff, porch side
laugh, (a gaff
a gaff A GAFF)
Jenny by one
leg one foot
Jenny stumbled
(Have you heard?)
Jenny caught herself
a bird

Jenny got done
with it (did she
now?) of course she
did and right next
to a cow! (Jenny
winked and so did
the milk weighted
pretty brown and
white and big
brown eyes
Jenny looked up
between the wheat
between the teats
Jenny got herself
done awfully
sweet
(!)

A ******

A love story

Done

Win lose or draw saddle
swiped ripped out quite
between your knees
Your little ride (grab
me by the reigns my
two long braids rip) o
rip me sideways tear
me away from your
livid schemes
You, ****** (me,
******) o you death
squad you breath
of death nod torn
between yourself
and the rest of
your nothing
******* die
(Then Me)
there bleed out
on the floor there
that stretches
between you
and me and O
BUT WHAT a
naked valley! so
much dead and
amber waves
of withered grain
YOU ARE THE DUMB
AMERICAN of all my
heart and dreams
(your statue of
liberty a constant
reign on your watery
parade) ah ****
OFF DEAR thank
you right between
the ears the big ol'
shafted bamboozled
part of your brain
hoodwinked dear
(let's go ****
another pony
shall we?) a love
a hate poem for you
and so much less
thanks again dear I
never expected this
fat with your own
expectation pregnant
with your ***** and
your swastikas
BOO!

Miss Anne I take in gips
and gasps (and what
is a gip I shall never
tell but it purrs
like a heart gone
all to hell
One decade gone
another renewed
shall I take another
pass by you?
Miss Anne you
make my hands
as large as the
moon but less
in charge as clumsy
as a puppy born
in June with a
mouth full of
flowers let loose
by a grin
forever goofy
thank to you
I win
(!)

You say such awful things
meant to squash any last bit
of love and have me revel
in hatred
I say add your words
to the ever growing pile
fight it out even, each
of you having your own
specific recipe- how to
hate and when, an army
of stupidity that has
no end
You say my pain is all
wrong, stubbornly denying
the possibility of loving that
sort of man, therefore I should
be able to just move along
I say I would rather be tangled
up in love than take on that
sort of ugly thing, this hatred
you want to throw on me like
a prized possession, keep it
for yourself, hoard it for
the leaner times

you're going to need it

So much for love
Yes
and all of that
crap (He grabbed
my face and) led
my mouth
to that

place

that drove
both of us
Crazy
willingly,
and at a full
run

But)

not in love
nope
just so much
fun

thank you dear
and so much
crap

(wanta do maybe
one more
lap?)

A sad saw of a tune
worked on my nerves
always a bit too soon
(if not now then when?)
I am my worst friend
Saw saw saw
away at this tune
careful steps with
a hunk of beveled
glass
(easily clears the room)
If not mine then who's?
I drip onto the carpet
Red (red red red) as
my tune
Love and life comes
in drips and drabs
(I have marked
on a calender
my impending
death)
Soon

Of all the really dubious decisions
(and this is the only one we know
about, knowing nothing about
much of anything)
Mother hatched us barely three
or so yards from the swoosh of
the interstate- and not one of those
two lane chicken **** things where
nicotine addicted deer meander
freely, shooting the breeze and
chewing on a fresh **** tossed
from a window into a nice morning
like this
Mother saw fit to hollow out
a capricious tunnel sort of thing
under a pile of god knows what
(and god knows even less
than we do)
Was she fooled by all the greenery
or was she just plain pooped,
too tired to find a decent tree
like any decent mother
would do?
Somehow this eight lane
truck route seemed ideal
even as we are thrown back
and forth by unnatural winds
and great heaving gusts of
gasoline and diesel, where
one errant breeze is sure
and shrill death
We are a soot covered clutch
that even mother love cannot rescue
(not that we know anything about
that) "What you don't know won't
hurt you" she was wont to sing
hinting at the ones that came
before us and the ones that
will surely follow
The crows gather at dusk and we
can almost hear their bone crunching
laughter and the buzzards do lazy
fly-overs, no one is in any special
hurry under this layer of traffic,
the constant bleak black motion
There is no appealing to the bird kind
in any of them, that we would compare
our lot in life is an act of desperation
you see, because Mother held life
lessons in her grip with the mercenary
coolness of one who doesn't waste
even a moment of joy on those
not meant to live long enough
to appreciate it

I've been lucky in love
and always had my pick
but when they ask me
what "does the trick"?
how can I tell
any one of them
that what I've always
preferred is ugly
men?

It is not a fact that beauty
lies in perfection or even
in perfect proportion-
sure, we find it pleasing
when both the eyes
line up and when
one leg follows the
other more or less
in the same stride
teeth are good when
they grow where they
should and number
in the thirties, most
can agree on this
and also that hair is nice-
some prefer a blonde
while others insist on the
virtues of a brunette
(none of us have ever
mooned or crooned
over the virtues of
a bald coquette)

I am functioning by rote
by automatic design
a cruel god put in
place, my dinosaur
mind
I eat, I sleep
I crawl forward
then back, not
a squeak from me
no motor purr
I do it naturally
as I watch the sun
across the wall and
set heavy in the
corner and then
like me, I watch
the sun crawl
back, ready
to leap
in the rhythm
of my heart
another bit
of automation
left over from that
first and all important
pointing of god's
finger
ready, set, go

The patron saint of forgetting
has been seduced out of
     the rosebush
where she lives, the thorns
     will slough away eventually
along with the rest
     of her
                   skin

she leaves rosebuds and petals
behind, but not like Hansel
     or Gretel
she does not want to be
     found
and she will not heed
the prayers from the rest
     of you, shamelessly
searching for an excuse
     of having forgotten
          too
Saint Adolf, not such a bad guy
they say he cries watching sad
    movies just like
                               you
barely seventy-five years
devil may care
because you don't, not
     you or you
          or even
               you
we do know the price
forgetting, of course all
     of us do
so hide behind your next plague
your next atrocity, yours
     or will you forget
          that
too?

How unwanted like
a wave good-bye a wave
hello, cupped hand of
a beauty queen or a
sailor scanning the
horizon where did
he go?

How unwanted like
hot distilled breath a
wave on my neck knocks
me *** over tete GET
UP GET UP GET
UP you there

Dripping ice and
cold arms full of
regret not me
dripping
wet a fishy
grasp an untamed
gasp of o so clammy
o so breathy death
is this (death)?

How unwanted (finished
dear) tepid pretend tea
party yes! let's have one
let's pour our hearts
out here

You floored me before
I could even get up the
smack of you to fill
my cup let's do it
simply (even) coldly
just one more time
let's

NOBODY bothers me!
said the kid on TV
learning karate and
then HEY KIDS!
OFF OF THAT COUCH!
WHAT'RE YOU TRYIN TO DO
RUIN IT!? You see
most of our local TV
was produced by drunks
the kind you swivel
your head and see
in your own living
room- yeah, HIM!
The ******* your
mother let in when
having a weak a
drunken moment
*******, yup
HIM and so happens
the same year we learned
the Easter Bunny had
broken his leg (no
candy, GET IT?
for youse or youse
eh, and plenty of
***** for im) was
the way we learned
all about wealth and
worth and giving up
even a square yard
of turf and *******
******* we will
never call you
Daddy, another
******* has that
name and he got
there first

The wont of his ways
the stretch of his gaze
as if the compass stare
would snare you or
someone else in
his haze (don't
count anything
don't doubt a single
syllable, I promise you
will be all the more
invisible, your lips
will mean nothing
see (death of love
climbs backward
up a tree WHAT
a beauty)

...and god opened up her legs
and said, "come, o come to me"
and yes, the believers flocked
like so many birds clinging
to a rock, faith a casualty
of a wave, of dumb luck
they said yes, yesyesyes
please and what the ****?
and god opened up her knees
and she let in all of the birds
and the flutter of so many
wings, yes they did they
pleased her and o my
and boy o boy and o ****
don't this feel nice and
god finally came
and the birds and the bees
and so many people just
like you and maybe me
they waited for more
because there's always
more and they waited
for god to breathe one
one last gasp, the unrolling
the tight fist unfolding,
the final gasp and
all things natural
and all things
unnatural, well,
they  continued to wait,
with little else do
to hear the final word
and
god let loose pretty much
each and every bird and
the way and the will
and the ungrasping
of all things let loose
on the world primed
for the final **** storm
yes!
and the world was covered
the world was smothered
in so much ****
yes!
and that was the way
and the will and so much
swill, goodnight and forever
******* (and you and you
and you) and that was pretty
much it, the world covered
in so much ****, get used
to it

ACCURSED from birth they be
      Who seek to find monogamy,
Pursuing it from bed to bed-
I think they would be better dead.

No one need tell
We met again
Here under the
Steady moon
Gaze plumped
By unfortunate
Love
You
Heat the wet side
Of me, syrup
In a spoon
While the radiator
Heats the other
Torrid hot!
Flesh cooled
By the moon
I love you
Again I said
Too
Soon

...and my life ended
where ours began...

a line so thin a ghost
of a snake danced
under it and
beyond

belly flat against
the floor that's where
I pushed back with
all I had left
a garter snake
(harmless in
fact) and you
slid between
the lines, in and
out of everything
that made me covet
you covered in
something
grim

and now
you sun yourself
on a warm rock
a smile baked on
your face not under
or above me but
in me, the worst
mistake and
I can feel the rope
of you grow taut
wondering how much
of me I had left after
yet another fit of your
reptile rage and slithering
guile

you counted off my lovers
one after the other as if
they all still stood sentry
and none of them worthy
your anger marking that
final part in me, a spot
in that indivisible
number that could
not be pulled
apart

one, me and you
minus me, plied
and pulled from
a spit stained
heart

done and all
undone

I wake I WAKE UP I
feel your hands the
grounded rubber
the vague electricity
of you milling around
and through my glassy
bones, your hands
have not yet found
a home
I wake up (I WAKE UP)
I feel the future in
my gums, two wrigley
twins jumping rope
double dutch veins
hurt like a stone
I wake up (yup)
too many tubes
reaching from within
dig them out and turn
them loose without
me (PLEASE go on
without me)
I wake up and it is
the next century, muscles
heave a giant groan

This was never what
I wanted (who would?)
this was never the plan
(why would it be?)

I am a **** of a mistake
I try to keep it under my
skin, under the bandages
but I still get thrown back
into the game, patched up
like new again, blown
backward into a mirror
DO OVER DO OVER
DO OVER no thank
you

I scream *******
with a mouth full
of sand

And this is the good part

Aaah but how laaazy
we are you reaching
for the remote (and I ain't
lifting my *** for
nothing, even my
sense of humor
lies limp) the
weather channel
the same channel
as your arm slides
back and forth
across my belly
my **** and then
you rest your
lips, napping
one muscle
at a time

We love the local weather
dude cuz he looks like
he sleeps in his suit
sways back and forth
his whole body
a five o'clock shadow
covering the whole
east coast and we revel
in the comfort of knowing
that weather still exists
at all (just in case we
choose to stick our
heads in it)

How many love affairs
start like this, the novelty
and the simple inability
to find all those faults
you will hate each other
for later?

How many lovers had me
convinced my despair is just
a wrapping I can push away
and replace with their charm
their assurances and their
delightful plot twists?
(how's the weather up
there?)

There is a certain amount
of folly and even stupidity
to believe I can dig a hole
out of terror and despair
and put yet another lover
smack in the middle of me
yes, THERE (I have made
my simple mind up- you,
darling, are not going
anywhere)

This, you me and that
bit over in the corner? I
believe love is hiding under
the hands of a clock, under
your hands too (fill me
another drink, fill me
with your ****)

Sated, she is
proud, he is
up to the task
not quite love but
this thing here?
this thing was built
to last

We had mixed
reality we had
too many pairs
of feet running
through the
alleyway we
done been
had that
(gimme)
arranging pebbles
we pretend are
pretty you
and me had
swinging arms
held hands stared
up through the
beetle chewed
leaves gossamer
when the sun
winked we had
the **** and
Jane of it the
Spot and Kitten
and a sedan
smack full
of it see?
we were too
brutal to run
around unarmed
(pretty pebbles
all at once
OW) we had
life! by the
ears dropped
on our heads
mother worry
don't pay the
rent we knew
everything and
worse except
each other
saving that
big hurt
for later

Inwardly I am regal,
like a satin swathed
silent film star
starry eyed
rain on my bed
no more stars
stricken by my
weather
inside
My teeth shall remain
lodged in my formerly
pretty face
It's all done up
in chintz
(myself and my
deathbed)
Set the radio to
Frank Sinatra
Pour a tumbler
of scotch and
swallow the
pills
the only thing
missing is my
coffin

Who knew, then
I would have to
*****, crawl on
my elbows toward
a not so well appointed
toilet?

Not at all ready
for my close-up

O FRUITLESS YAM!
(a soft woman's voice)
"potatoes are usually
grown from other
potatoes..."
YOU, CANNY, in
a jam "...while several
recessed dormant
buds..."
ALL MOUTH AND
NO PLAY
"or eyes on the
surface..."
BORN OF BOREDOM
INVERTED EYES
"on the surface..."
OF HIS DECAY"
"perennials that grow
close to the ground..."
THE ONE THAT CRaWLS
NEVER STRETCHED TO
HER FULL AND FOOLISH
POTENTIAL HEIGHT
"it's called a tuber..."
MAKE THE SHAPE
WITH YOUR UGLY
MOUTH AND NO
END OF ROTTEN
WORDS
"from the end of underground..."
LACKING ENOUGH MIND
TO STAND ON TWO LEGS
"we call these vines..."
THESE ARE THE SPROUTS
WE CALL EYES
"these are the sprouts
we call eyes..."
WHY O WHY DID
YOUR POTATO DIE?
"verticillium wilt..." WILT
SHALL, DID, AND DILT
"these fungi can survive
in the soil..." OF COURSE
SHE OF THE WILTED
EYE, THE FACE AND
THE MOUTH FULL
OF DIRT "but will
eventually die..."
HERE'S TO YOU, THAT
SHALLOW GARDEN, THAT
DEEP MEASURED HURT
AS SOON AS SHE BREAKS
THE SURFACE "wilted
plants will eventually die..."
HERE'S TO YOU, NEXT
SUMMER, NEXT RAY
OF SUN, HERE'S MUD
IN YOUR EYE