i like my body when it is with your
body. It is so quite new a thing.
Muscles better and nerves more.
i like your body.  i like what it does,
i like its hows.  i like to feel the spine
of your body and its bones,and the trembling
-firm-smooth ness and which i will
again and again and again
kiss, i like kissing this and that of you,
i like, slowly stroking the,shocking fuzz
of your electric furr,and what-is-it comes
over parting flesh….And eyes big love-crumbs,

and possibly i like the thrill

of under me you so quite new

don't feel sorry for me.
I am a competent,
satisfied human being.

be sorry for the others
who
fidget
complain

who
constantly
rearrange their
lives
like
furniture.

juggling mates
and
attitudes

their
confusion is
constant

and it will
touch
whoever they
deal with.

beware of them:
one of their
key words is
"love."

and beware those who
only take
instructions from their
God

for they have
failed completely to live their own
lives.

don't feel sorry for me
because I am alone

for even
at the most terrible
moments
humor
is my
companion.

I am a dog walking
backwards

I am a broken
banjo

I am a telephone wire
strung up in
Toledo, Ohio

I am a man
eating a meal
this night
in the month of
September.

put your sympathy
aside.
they say
water held up
Christ:
to come
through
you better be
nearly as
lucky.

the house next door makes me
sad.
both man and wife rise early and
go to work.
they arrive home in early evening.
they have a young boy and a girl.
by 9 p.m. all the lights in the house
are out.
the next morning both man and
wife rise early again and go to
work.
they return in early evening.
By 9 p.m. all the lights are
out.

the house next door makes me
sad.
the people are nice people, I
like them.

but I feel them drowning.
and I can't save them.

they are surviving.
they are not
homeless.

but the price is
terrible.

sometimes during the day
I will look at the house
and the house will look at
me
and the house will
weep, yes, it does, I
feel it.

I met a genius on the train
today
about 6 years old,
he sat beside me
and as the train
ran down along the coast
we came to the ocean
and then he looked at me
and said,
it's not pretty.

it was the first time I'd
realized
that.

before you, sad poems are all i know
words that bleed
pages blotched with tears

my poems were colder than snow
words that plead
torn pages of fears

i thought misery is all i need
to write poems from the soul
until you came

you changed my writing creed
this broken girl felt whole
now my poems will never be the same

thank you for changing the game

Tiny whispers,
soft and subtle.
Bed frames,
a warming cuddle.
Soul pieces,
nose kisses,
cold feet,
one love puddle.

Confrontation,
elaboration,
dark secrets,
silent bracing.
Morning breath,
coffee grounds,
cigarrettes,
and carnal chasing.

Television,
Apple tarts,
Soft eyes,
and blunt smoke.
Crazy nights,
and tired days,
that is what I miss the most..

I see too many sad poems.
I don't even want to read them because I don't want to be sad.
I like happy poems
Even sappy poems.
I like poems that make me smile and feel alive
I like warm cozy poems
Even poems about the weather and clothes and food and candy
I think we should all try to write happy poems once in a while.
You should want people to read your poem and smile.
Not to say a sad poem can't be very good,
But the world is far too beautiful
Maybe this is easy for me to say because I'm really happy.

I saw last night
What you did to Ted Cruz,
"A lying baby leaning on a Bible."
That quote is masterful.
Is that why you spent all that time with Bubba?
It just occurred to me you might have learned a thing or two
hanging out with the most naturally gifted living politician in the world?
And maybe that's part of why you cultivated that relationship with the Clintons?
You ****** up some of his skills like a sponge didn't you Donald?
And you were also keeping your enemies close before they knew they were enemies,
You saw them blinded by the bubble,
Bumbling over egos,
And you saw the seas parting,
Left and right drowning beside you as You walked across to the promise land,
Legs of the future spread out in front of you
Weeping with yearning,
Glistening in the light at the end of the tunnel.

You have no idea what it will be like to be President.
And I know you know you might bankrupt the world.
You have failed at easier things, Sir.
We both know this,
And we both know you don't care.
You are going to **** this country one way or another.
Will it be romantic?

I'm guessing it will be more like
gray **** gonzo ****
On a gold plated VHS,
But maybe not.
If you have taught History anything,
And it's clear you are teaching that ***** a lesson,
A crash course in what Nietsche called
"The Will To Power."
If you have taught History anything it's that
You won't let her tell you what to do.

I hate to do it,
but I just got to love you brother,
Or at least let go of my sentimentality,
And admit you will likely win.
your style is so much more tacky and just plain pathetic than you will ever understand,

But your knife is true blue,
Like the spirit of Sinatra.

You trump it up,
**** it,
Bump it and dump it.
Then you take that money
And bake it and shake it.
Baby you were born to run.

FAITH
all I have
FAITH
all I can be
FAITH
all I will ever need