the down keeps me up
needing to crash but thoughts beckon
i know i must pay tomorrow
full moon tonight
what’s your excuse?
if you’re a woman don’t misconstrue
i’m not a  misogynist
true misogyny neccitates great admiration
full moon tonight
what’s your excuse?
i don’t care tonight
gonna stay awake till collapse
i dreamed Apple traded
$99.00 monday morning and i bought it
i’m not your type
not your type not your type
i read Flaubert, Zola, Nabokov
i know it’s hard to see
i imagine angels
what do you like in your cup of tea?
while taking care of neighbor’s cat Oskar
decided to replace porch standard white with green light bulb
i hope they like it
they’re burners
they’ll be gone for two weeks

Nothing I do is good enough for you

I hate myself

Wipe the table clean with tears and tissue

All I am is deficit to you

My worthlessness

Another mouth to feed



We are each over-expectant

Hoping for the incredible

Imagining more than what we’re served

Denying reality

Each destroyers

Of our own dreams



The moral compass

Keeps teetering towards disaster

Not-so-distant past lingers

I want to go back to my own people

But my own people don’t exist anymore

Except in cartoon version



Everything is collapsing fast

Nothing is gradual

When did the present

Overstay its welcome?

I am desolate dictator

Of empty room



What do you do with your scabs?

Not the little flakey ones

I mean the big chunky crusty ones?

I throw them in pan and sauté them

With olive oil, onion salt, a little pablano pepper

Serve them to myself and ghost dog

Bottom line, you get me off
Fall short of that,
You are useless,
Useless.

“Men are so needy,” she said
I swirl spoon in watery broth
Sit speechless
Silently wonder what she meant

The deal is,
I don’t understand the deal
When did *** become
So terribly disconnected from love?

Friends first, then ***
What is wrong with me?
Ok, *** first, then friends?
I don’t understand the deal.

Please be my friend

There are things I don’t want to talk about

Her destructiveness, my destructiveness

The nature of destruction

To surrender, allow, withstand

Her beautiful soft eyes looking off

The force of her scorn

There are things I never imagined

Secretly believing someone is watching
And will benevolently arrive, relieve the pain
When planets collide, lots of stuff goes awry
Every breath you take implicates you deeper
The constant cry of babies being born
Expect monsters worse than you can conceive
There is a dark alley deep in hell

Where strangers go
She was swallowing a horse who
Stomped its hooves
Kicked her in stomach pregnant with you
As soon as you enter
Someone points a finger
Hollers, “Horse child, *****’s child!”

Hen-pecked men and angry haughty women
Shame is the only love i know
A murdering mob descends upon
Somebody lynching Christmas tree ornaments
Why isn’t there God?
It’s disturbing to think
We’re all acting out of chump sensibilities

Explain to me again about sociology and greater good
How long can a smell last?
A week? A month? Thousands of years?
What if higher powers exist
Unbeknownst to themselves?
Death fashionably attired without face
The importance in showing teeth

“Caw, caw!” old crow calls, anticipating winter’s squalls
I fire up cigarette, blow smoke in the faces
Of those who said no to my dreams
I’m glad i didn’t know then what i know now
The cost of joy
Tomorrow is magnificent new beginning
If only everything hadn’t happened

My life is a fraud
Posing greatness, I go home to empty bed
I remember a girl
It was heavenly lying next to her
Talking, walking, being with her

Countless fissures fitted, amazing minutiae
She was the one, paradise once
Dilapidation is order of the day
Death dwells among the living
Seeped deep in floorboards, forcing hands

Death is more real than God
Death is God
Why is this night different from all other nights?
I rouse from anxious nightmares
Awakening to truer horrors

What is believable?
Her lips were the best
Scattered into tiny unrecognizable pieces
Where she licked
I didn’t realize it was all her New York City connections

I thought it was simply
Her eager tongue
One last remark
This is not poetry
Who am I to utter

Ice-cream truck ***** broadcasts
Tomorrow guarantees new beginnings
To an unforgivable forgiven past
I miss her presence
My life is a frog

Electra-girl gyrates desperately.
Daddy is away on business.
The house practically empty,
Desolate winds rattle windows,
Stomach twists with craving.

Electra-girl squeals,
“**** Mommy! Get her out of the picture.”
Little Miss teacup wants everything just right,
When daddy gets home.
Electra-girl vomits hairball,

shaves thighs belly armpits,
Plucks neck chin nostrils,
Applies lipstick moderately,
Puckers (finger pushes hemorrhoid in).
She denies everything.

Imagines he is showering,
She enters **** giggling big grin,
Gaze scampering between his face and genitals,
Her approaching young body edging nearer.
He hesitates standing under waterspout,

Waiting to see what she will do,
Fearing his own desire,
Knowing it is wrong so wrong.
After what seems a long time,
Mom steps in,

Eyes firing rage and sanction.
She asks her daughter, “You think you’ll win?”
Electra-girl answers without hesitation,
“Why wouldn’t I.”
No question.

Your **** stains on carpet,
Your *** stains on everything,
Your breath smells,
Odor of rotting flowers.
Smile for the camera.

Electra-girl raises arms and taunts,
“I win! I win!
Who’s going to be my next daddy?”
A deep heavy silence follows.
She holds herself in mirrors of her past.