My daddy always told me
I would catch my hair
with flames.

I bow down to the
little black toaster;
praising his holy name.

Oh! Let me give thanks,
little black toaster,
for you have now fulfilled my every need.

I huff and puff
on filter stem;
hijacked cigarette now all mine.

Hundreds of words lived inside of me,
Swirling about my brain.
I wanted to spill them at your feet, truly I did.
Adjectives burned my tongue and
Tiny verbs danced about my stomach.
They laughed furiously
Until all that was left were encrypted sonnets,
that dug down deep,
Burrowing inside a place they were sure to be safe.

You wanted to read them,
Instead I swallowed them whole.
I did tell you once.
I told you everything through breathy prayers
But you never heard
Because you were asleep.

There is blaring whit noise
In this room:
ITS THE SOUND
Or rather
The heavy and troubled lung of medical equipment.

It sounds like the slowest dropping,
like the TONE is permanently descending
downwards;
AS IF
Virgil were here to guide it through Hell

OUTSIDE:
Third worlds spin their wheels by
Form of generator.
Constantly blowing barley in the face,
with it's cocktail, anti-freeze breathe

Only in the man made world can the cold
Come from electric heat

THE WIND BLOWS
AND THE BUILDING SHAKES

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.

little dark girl with
kind eyes
when it comes time to
use the knife
I won't flinch and
i won't blame
you,
as I drive along the shore alone
as the palms wave,
the ugly heavy palms,
as the living does not arrive
as the dead do not leave,
i won't blame you,
instead
i will remember the kisses
our lips raw with love
and how you gave me
everything you had
and how I
offered you what was left of
me,
and I will remember your small room
the feel of you
the light in the window
your records
your books
our morning coffee
our noons our nights
our bodies spilled together
sleeping
the tiny flowing currents
immediate and forever
your leg my leg
your arm my arm
your smile and the warmth
of you
who made me laugh
again.
little dark girl with kind eyes
you have no
knife. the knife is
mine and i won't use it
yet.

I crave you like a cigarette and I just as equally want to burn you.
Smoking is an addiction of poison that will waste you away and acid drenched flowers will grow from your ribcage. But I assure you, I'd rather turn my lungs to ash than ever be kissed by the putrid lips of love.