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

You hold your wit and
wisdom in tight fists
rather than letting
your genius roll off
your pretty fingers
one gift after
another; no
not ever (for
fear one dumb
thumb might
betray you
and then
the other)
the art of not
knowing yourself,
a dull and painful
slice, death by
increments and
degrees with each
secret a blow against
time immemorial

Today, just as easily as yesterday
or even tomorrow, and who really
knows what sort of cosmic change
one more trip up the stairs, a minute
or so involved in finding a set of keys
can bring? I do not claim any bit of
godly eye into the possible futures
much less the remiss and distress
of the concreteness of the past

No

Even so I can tell you this:

Today I ran over a wedding gown
in the middle lane of a local interstate
and just as I was getting over the shock
and twist of so much crinoline, so much
taffeta, catching a breath and wondering
what it could mean: what looked to be
a golf ball bounced twice in front of me
then bashed around under me and
any hope of spying it in my rear view
was dashed completely

I was trying to listen to an NPR show
about the human mind and death and
what we think we can tolerate in the end
is exactly what we cling to, if only
to not end

I was reminded of my mother's slow
and lingering death (painful, thoughtless
absurd) and how many lives end that way
not at all what we plan to endure with
the pleas to please **** me when it comes
to that and not a minute more, absent
of all dignity which we think in our
last lucid moments is important;
which we think in our last lucid
moments is more important than
diapers or mumbling or *******
ourselves

And not a single one of us knows
when we will give in, what little
moment will mark the beginning
of the end- a golf ball, a wedding  
dress, a wolf passing by our bathroom
window as we take a midnight ****

That could be enough, that could be
the undoing, a small grunt and a passing
fact, like you- passing, fact, past tense
just a glint in a lonesome wolf's eye
as you cross over from wanting to live
to wanting to die

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

Of course there was- "There was an error
in posting. Please try again."

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

THIS is the epitome
this is the empty me
I revisit the cavern
to see the small
scrapings, pigments
pulled from my flesh
the child version of all
that was eating me
wheat colored stone
the chaff and the grain
rock against rock
the color of pain
the greedy green
chlorophyll, the part
and smart of my brain
YOU there and I point
a finger like a paintbrush
of despair, yellowed by
the sun and turned to
soup by the falling rain
WHAT sort of thing
could lift me out of this
forever wanting?
a red leveled plow
of your heart digs
at my veins
He is forever
mister dead set
blues for my
pain

I've lost my mind
Dear I've done it
In three quarter
Time dear I've
Lost myself to
A waltz a sallly
A few mincing
Feet in an alley
To you dear and
I don't care dear
Even a dirge feels
Right, all my love
Buried in a box
Have no fear
My love is like
A Hallmark card
Shoved in drawer
Like that and no
Further
Dear

O hell this thing (let's
call it a woman for now)
she walks around to the
bark of his orders, bends
over backward to his
sieg heils and and
and
Hatred will set you free
and and and if only I could
crawl away on all threes
she says better you than
me with the last bit of him
caught in the jaws of her
snap! snap! snap! having
torn off the hand that fed
her (who cares?) it's a
rap! rap! rap!
See how things change
so quickly, see?
This Greek arriving empty
shaking ******, the Trojan
horse she rides atop, wasn't
it glamorous? demanding
gifts rather than receiving
them except for the vicious
and banging pieces
banging their way
out of her mouth, she
could only SHUT THE
**** UP for so long
(see?)
and now it's too late
*******, you're my
*****
(see?)
She misunderstands
EVERYTHING and so
she waves her vicious lips
once meant to please you
now spitting out a charm
a spell, a hell bent burnt
mantra and now
The world is wrong
including you (get used
to it)

She tells him in so many words
he only has borrowed minutes
minutes here and at a high rate
of bare and bored interest and
he had better return the unused
portion, dragging it out of a
lion's mouth

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

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

You tell me I am the store clerk
in this company store
I am the one with the yardstick,
a symbol of authority, you say
but one I never used to measure
my own faults or even measure
the thread you used to catch
me in so many knots

You send me away with a few
extra inches, a mind crammed
with outrageous hope, and a
checklist of unanswered questions
dandelion in hand encouraging
the dust, a beat up rusted hope
in the middle of a fallow field

You never thought I'd backtrack
did you? tripping over that pile
of threads, my foot caught in
the center, a prey through
a scope with laughter on
the other end

Again I tell you I need
to know more than I need
to know you
I need to know the glory
of winning a war I once
thought was ridiculous

(And when I look down
and see you have dressed me
in a fool's garb you say not
to worry because looks
can be deceiving
and what the ****
do I know?)

The truth will reveal itself
in a slow and sly burlesque
flowers dropping their petals
**** and unbearable and
when the answer comes
to your lips you will not
know how to say yes
your mouth pressed
into a no and the rest
the rest, the rest

My childhood memory
comes and goes, just
like my childhood
until it simply
went; The order
of things, I don't
remember learning
the days of the week
and especially not
how nice it would
have been to know
what makes a day
out of a sun or a
moon or even
Saturn; days of
weeks of months
of years, torn up
like me never to be
retrieved like me
my childhood
memory
deceives me,
evades me,
hides from me
with only the sound
of it pushing through
yelling mouth as wide
as a mixing bowl
"MY NAME IS JANE
MY NAME IS JANE"
I said it over and over
again until it got to
dark to even play
the game where I
could be not me
for a change
I sat in a giant fire pit
encased in stone and brick
pretended it was a house
like Lucy's after she moved
to the country, not us
standing at the top of the
yard yelling cuss words
******* at cars
I suppose there were lots
of screams like when the
goldfish hit the floor and
died before we could save
even one or when mom
ran into the door again
memory does not pretend
at least it doesn't do that
we had no god, no food,
no father and no car

I do remember when our
new babysitter left us in
Paterson Park and no one
got us until it was well
after dark

Somehow none of us
screamed, why bother?
******* tee hee hee

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

I am going to have a dinner party
(my heart is set, do not try and
discourage me)
The psychiatrist asks, "How
long has this been going on?"
fuckingtwitfuckingassfucking
doctornowaren'tWEtwee?
my inner dialogue kicks in
without the slightest prompting
I am going to have a *******
dinner party and not even you
can stop me
(you see I lived in a hollowed out
shell was stuffed inside onetwothree
sometime in 1962  or was it '63?
I think I think at least I think
it was me
until
they dragged me out by
my leg and plopped me
down on this bug eaten
couch O
THE INDIGNITY)
I'm going to have a dinner party
then they'll see
this little dump here?
naturally it's only temporary
that's what they keep
telling me
but they won't, they won't
stop pulling at me,
rubber fitting for my mouth
"Bite down!" how bout how
bout say please? and the rest
of them they sit in a row
and tell me it's for the
electricity (who's
the crazy one now?)
I'm going to have a dinner party
and none of you can
stop me

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

This is a parable.
I know I'm not supposed to announce
whatever folly my unworthy fingers
might construct- and in the case that
I fail entirely, well, it's too late to say
this is a magazine ad. For perfume.

I can at least tell you this is not
a perfume ad.

I want to tell you all about the man
who falls in the river every night
(and, no, he is not Heraclitus so
it IS the same river even when
it's not

For our purposes, it is the same
river)

Some of us find comfort in that
sort of continuity while others dare
to dream

The man in the river never
remembers his dreams- it could be
because of the way is jolted awake
Instant Terror, Self Hatred, and
Stench clobbers him, **** dreams.

Except that day.
He woke up with a brocaded toe
clamped between his teeth and
fell instantly in love while the mouth
so far above the toe, it screamed
and screamed and scream

For the next 28 years the river dude
languished in a cell and spent each
of those years building a palace
in his mind for the brocaded
toed princess.

Naturally upon his release
he would be covered in brocade
as well, you see the man had gone
quite insane, meanwhile the toe
and the mouth did as well
Go insane.

What did it matter that he
never saw her face, save the
shrieking maw? and anyway
he knew all he needed to know
just by memorizing her foot

It turns out the bellowing lady
only had one shoe, a lovely one
at that and what did she need
with two?

It turns out the screaming lady had
only that one foot and the rest
of her was such a mess having
only one leg was a leg up

The river man was a *****
and an *******.

He never loved the one
legged lady but stupidly
fell in love with a shoe
which got him a long
prison sentence.

Love what he or she is
and not what he or she
could be- after all, they
gave you a chance.

Jack ***.

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?)

I would like to
**** a you or a
me, starkly
purely, so
much more
stutterly and
with a fork
says She
Go then, laughs
(pulls sheets
over knees)
says He
colder shoulder
cold bare ***
Your window
smells like cars
says She
Pools of sweat
lost of joy
taste of tongue
barely, Could
you please
asks She
possibly
feed me?

There lie your dreams
you on your back and
your eyes fixed on
the screen
the ceiling
the nighttime
screams
(convince yourself
in those squalid moments
this this THIS is what
you want THIS is
romance THIS is
the man of your
dreams
While you lie pinned
by the center of your
soul, arms and legs
spinning around
like a clock with
too many
springs
this is the hour
of your regrets
your squandered
bit of everything
and nothing is quite
what you thought
it would be, like you
love him and of course
the screams

I live 10,000 miles under
the sea, I am this happy
gasp of air, the thud of
my blood beating in my
ears, I saved this breath
for you and for me

Darling twisted happy
a conk shell to hear you
and the sand that slips
between our toes, the  
grist and grind of every
human kind I see your
face swapped for one
wave after another
I call this Repose

I could wait forever

You are some kind of
fish, now ain't you?

I know you're learning
how to breathe, big effort
for so much hot air, my
pride beats in my pulse
first for you then for me
I am an empty tank of
despair, so much for
a fair trade, you still
pretend, still hanging
in there

Darling, my turtle
your arms and legs
times four, you're
kind of ugly, if not
for the water around
your wrists and ankles
the better to take you
there

I could wade forever

You think love is hot
and painful but mine
is cool and green, you'll
see, here with me or there
with your final and very
memory

I bang my head
against the floor
harder! harder!
and one time
more
Alas, but I hear
someone banging
back?
A man in blue shorts
and a leather
sack?
He says to me
I hate to tell you
but you're banging
your head on the door
and not the floor
ma'am

You, there
me, here (fair
and square) fists
empty arms full
of air, thief! rich
with my despair
from my gut
(strings, strings!
a violin, a tennis
racket, sinew
strung from one
pile of...)
gloating, surely
belly full another
wind filled ****
another plus on
the minus side
of me, robbed
mostly of you
(who cares?)
I thought
mostly of you
the great con
job and how
does your garden
grow, kicked like
that? (o what
a pair you
make

Meh darlin' doth
meh faencie,
in aul hes waeys
quite daencie;
I gav 'im meh
charm an op
theh mountain
of hes arms,
then doon theh
ledder uv hes
romaencin'

What she saw, it was better
than any TV, better even than
Marcus Welby and ever since
Quincy ruled that punk rock
music was the cause of death?
You can keep your fancy plots
and all of that mess
she said to the general public
from her window then pulled
her head back in just in time
for a quick breath

The TV stays on from habit
and anyway the sound it makes
even when the volume is off?
she can't explain its comforting
presence or how it feels like
an old friend who doesn't
criticize or ask for anything
ever or like a wife who was told
to shut the hell up long ago
and by some miracle she's
not said a single word since
like that, comforting and
silent and if she were real
instead of the electric air of
the TV set? well, our friend
would swear she's fat

(and also friendly, not a
smudge of malice)

Anyway the woman in the
window has had a lifetime
of that- malice, scorn, as each
year dropped off like a coin
in a purse with a hole

Stillborn

What an awful word

But there are moments
when life comes alive, not
so much in but always
outside

It's like waiting for her
favorite soaps

The TV shows the bloated face
of someone familiar, maybe
Rock Hudson or Doris Day
(she snickers who are they
kidding?) and she has never
met a single person who
came near to being that kind
of happy, she is certain
no one is that happy

Nonetheless she hears some
singing, sticks her head into
the breeze that carried the notes
to her- a skinny black woman
marches back and forth in the
park with an invisible baton
in her hand, belting out O
SAY CAN YOU SEE? WHAT
THE CRACK'S DONE TO
ME?

(yes, we can.)

The woman in the window
claps heartily while the one
in the park takes a bow
(O
WOW she heard me! both
of them think at the very
same time)

The park is full of action
just the other day she saw
one bag of laundry approach
another bag of laundry and
the first bag pulled out a gun
from one of his many pockets
while the second bag produced
what must have been money
and so one bag of laundry
sold a gun to another bag
of... I swear! she says
to Doris Day

And that's how it is any
old day, see? and how
much better it is than
TV?

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

If a Jenny met
a fella met him
eye to eye, how
could he be
so hard to
doom to make
a Jenny cry?
(Did she did
or did she not
look him
in his eye?)
and when
a mirror
conscience
shook did
he not make
a rotten lie?
If a Jenny
smiled at
him or any
bluest eye
laid a Jenny
on her back
and looking
at the sky
Tell her true
(what did
he do when
he took her
by surprise?)
can a fella
can he now
before she
grow old
and die?
If a Jenny lets
loose a fella
of all his
woes and
whys? let
a Jenny o
let a Jenny
rise

My hair grew another inch this
month and without your gaze
much less your permission
I wish you could wrap the
brazen red braids round
your fingers and yank at
my love for you, play with it,
then toss it aside like a broken
doll but then I remember
that's how I ended up here
on my broken *** and,
speaking of my ***, when
you asked if I had taken a
look lately and told me I
was disgusting?
Mighty big of you to
tell me you forgive me
for being hurt
Sorry usually makes
my hair fall out so
this inch without
your permission
is spectacular

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

I wanted to write a poem
about kissing walls of all
shapes and sizes, about
davening or dervishing
not to mention shokeling
or the Arabic equivalent
but who wants to start
any sort of war? not me
said the girl no longer
a girl so if you see me
with a black box wrapped
tightly around my cocked
to the side head and I am
trying to kiss a rock
and not you instead-
please don't take it
personally- I'm as
confused as you
although I carry no
ammo or weaponry
or even self righteous
blather: I am not from
here or there or anywhere
you think might matter
in fact I do not matter
at all, perhaps I have
Tourette's, perhaps
I like to spin in place
and kiss rocks and
rub my skinny Irish
face at tourist traps
of no specific religious
affiliation, perhaps
I am CONFUSED
by all of your
tourist maps
read the back flap
(*Disclaimer: we hold
no responsibility for
your imminent
death, biblical  
or otherwise)

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 need I need I need (let
me repeat I NEED)
your **** between
my thighs I need
to feel your hot and
heavy breath between
my sighs I need
your fingers in my
*** and in my
****** baby like
a bowling ball
I will roll quite
heavy slam me
right into the
wall
I need you I need all
every bit and even
the hell of you
even your empty
voicemail piece
an automated I DON'T
GIVE A **** I need
I need your *******
face
****

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

If I could give you every thought
that I left unexpressed and tie them
up in a drawstring bag and if this bag
could only hold the sweet ones,
the good ones, the ones that
made you feel O YES THIS
IS SOMETHING and you
could let go of the rest
well:
Thoughtless would just be
a poor beggar we never had
to feed, living on air and
quite nowhere, not
with you and not with
me and if love were
enough, if love could
make I AM SORRY
get up and stand
on its hind legs and
pick flowers from
the highest tree
we would not have
a problem now
would we? you
would be you and
I would be me
fed on promises
(there is no other world
I want than ours) and
every thought made
less thoughtless
gathered together in
my bag of Please- I would
everyday shower you
with these
If

My body did not
tell your body
she was planning
a party there
I hope it's okay
no one is invited
but you, most of
you, that is, and
only the best parts
of mine

(By invitation only
we will leave the
rest behind)

My body wants
your body to
maybe keep
your brain
out of this
that is no thinking
allowed, not even
mine, crowded
thoughts
they ruin it
don't they?
they ruin a good
party every time

My body wants
your body; I hope
your body wants
mine

I want to paint all of the furniture
Chinese red and lacquer the
living crap out of it
until my face
is reflected
in every
corner
drawer
and even
the bed
I will leave my face on every surface
so that even with his flights of
of knee **** denial, he will
learn the exact nature
of liver colored
shredded
torn
then
reborn
dread
I want to add another stanza
the kind that smacks a person
in the head, the back and flat
and dinosaur part where
his most stupid thoughts
are formed along with
his grunts and
pointed
opposable
thumb
dumb
that
is
But why bother when I can
simply move on
instead?

I can't I can't I simply
cannot live with this
emptiness (and why
didn't anyone tell me
how empty it would
be?) hell, I didn't expect
a box of chocolates (melted
stuck to the mailbox) or
even a limp dozen roses
or a farewell cordially
written by the hand
that knows well how to
cordially say goodbye
but I did expect something
and never mind why-
I expected maybe for
the sky to change color
or for each and every leaf
on each and every tree
to turn around in mourning
in deference to some wild
thing that not even nature
can explain, me and my
heart torn away like bark,
undressed of love and left
with only my nakedness
I thought I would feel it
in the air, come sweeping
down and defining each
of my breaths, each one
a death to me when really
I deserve no less than
a two mile snake of black
that runs through every red
light and leaves nothing
but road rage in it's wake
(hear me snicker between
the walls, ceiling, and floor
of my new and fabulous tree)
There is no special ceremony
no cake to cut, no carrying
this great loss over a threshold
like a bride, like a widow
all in one day, this death
like so many others that
folks just want to turn their
heads away, this death
like so many others, an
embarrassing display

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?

...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 have no idea what does
or does not grow in those
sorry patches once full
of hope, the ones I checked on
everyday, waiting for the first
bit of green to push its way
out of the earth as if to prove
something about my worthiness
my optimism, even in the face
of all that other decay
I don't believe he ever
took a look, kept his face
pointed the other way
sure of disappointment
but like a kid who can barely
wait for Christmas he waited
for a garden that pops up
all in one day, along with
a woman that transforms
over night, not the one
he went to sleep with
but someone so much
better
I've always had the hope
that in my absence my
gardens flourished,
even went crazy with
green and vines and
fruits and flowers,
so many flowers
and even with the next
one coming behind me
and bashing the crap
out of everything that
sprouted, that's okay
I imagined always the
following year and
and the one after that
in the event she was
still there, the blooms
coming back in spite
of all her efforts to
**** them
and if flowers could talk?
what else could they say
but, Lady, give up-
she will never go
away

each letter rolled
'round my
tongue, wet
with let's
say ess and
ess indeed
('tween you
and me)
shy one
letter, YES
eeeeGADS
whoop-eeee
(d)eee
easy like
me
say pretty
pleeeese
ex
lover
ex
con
ex
marks
the
spot
yes please
***
(***!)

m'lady mistakes
a punch to the face
as something more
compliant
tis not his kink
you should know
as you stand there
all defiant
a twist and turn
and a slow waxy
burn
is all you ever
hoped for
but with regard
to you and
the things you
do, your neck
is what a
rope's for
to keep this man
one rule of thumb
and forget the
usual blather:
have a ****
'tween your thighs
keep your mouth
well shut and at
the end of day
when he thinks
of you not as
a ***** but
a **** is all
that really
matters

When windows fail
and mirrors who once
bade an affirming nod
now shake a conscience
loose and all reflections
once scraped and bowed
mark a line between
looking at and
through;
When quests and
questions echo not
nor draw an audience
near, but rather fall
flat in front of you
and absent any
cheers;
Take a rest
and your last
breath without
fog or frost or
dew;
Without any calm
or calamitous shows
drawn from people
pets, or pews;
We'll get along fine
by a godless design
to finally be rid of
you

The debut of us, dear
our red carpet affair
hangs in solid crimson
all up and down the stares
Darling you do understand
I cannot keep you under
wraps? (the wrap party
is happening now,
between the cheeks
of my ***)
And the curtains part
(o boy!) and my legs part
(o joy!) dear Sir we had
total Fuckability (now
didn't we?)
I ever and always
deferred to you
the director of me
(what an awful job
but someone's got
to do it)
And when you said
"CUT!" and cut me
in two? that's okay-
I will make do
And when you said
"CUT!" once again?
That's okay, the half
of me will survive
with the all of you
(wondering how many
times I can be halved
and quartered and still
be there, under the half
the heel of your boot
black shoe)
You, darling
you

People like you they
eat **** and call it
caviar and never
offer me a spoon
full (no thanks
******)
People like you
carry Hellos like
indented designer
scars FROM BLOOMIES
screamed in my ear and
FROM BARNEYS
(*******)
People like you
run over cars instead
of cars running over
them taxis even stop
and pick them up
and **** like that
People like you
smell different
to feral people
like me, sitting in
Central Park waiting
for the Museum of
Natural History to
open cuz it's free
and it's cold and
I stink and The Oak
Room threw me out
decades ago do you
recognize me?
People like you
live forever, are 30
years old forever
not me, I turned 80
on my 8th birthday
People like you
do not see me
thankfully the
shock would add
a good 20 years
to the bottoms
of your shoes
nope you don't
have to tell
people like
me dead from
the neck up
unwanted from
the neck down
dead like that
people like me
put a fancy dress
on it, buy it a bicycle
and a cashmere coat
to hold in the disaster
people like you don't
want to see

Time flies. Unless you
can't tell time.

A word to the wise is useless
if it makes no sense.

Passing an irregular verb.

I'm happy to see you
(answer) I'm happy you're
happy to see me.

I wake up like there's a
fire ******* up my ***.

It's like getting half of your
**** ******- and not the
top half.

Dog (sketch of dog).

****** smile.

Barry's number in case
I forget it (no number written).

Miss What Felony
Police (illegible)
no Jeopardy.

We're still anonymous.

(Thank goodness I write all
of this stuff down!)

I want to dress up
like Kim K. and ****
your **** I want
to be culturally
relevant I want
to run into Prada
and **** every
mannequin
and leave a blood
soaked floor
and what's more
I want to blame it
all on you calling
me a *****
I am the human toll
of all your deficits
I am a felony waiting
to unfold I am your
worst nightmare
wrapped in a nightgown
I am ten thousand
years old dropped
to the floor I am pure
gold
I am your trigger finger
your ten times a ******
your bomb waiting
to explode
Blame me on food
coloring and live wires
blank checks and all
the cans of food dated
expired because I have
no shelf life dear and
you waited way too
long to put it in here
so tired and so old
ouch

I am not a sentry
I do not stand with
my hands full of honey
flowing with *** juice
dainty footfalls marching
in place quiet as a panther
smile draped on my face

I practiced winking
in the mirror but I come
off as a psychopath
my come hither look
missing a fork and
you

What else can I do
while I wait here for
the likes of you?

I believe you want me
still warm, hot even
like a mirage on hot tar
not me but still sort of
me, shut up completely

Like a tomb

I have never been more
decisive, keeping perfectly
still in this tiny room

Was in my heart
(was in my head)
Was in my throat
(I knew no dread)
Was on my lips
(and so I said)
Rolled off my
      tongue
I love you
(dead)

Too late, too late
(his heart turned
      stone)
I wanted him
(go home,
      go home)
In words, in deeds
(I should have
      known)
Goodbye my
      dear
(I'm all alone)

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