My ***** Lover

Irrationality always wins
Chicago is aspirated beast
Braggart forced laugh
I had a vision but I have no vision
Dreamed I was making out with a woman

Who had long stretchy pink octopus tentacles
Sedulously legato ephemera
Growing from external rim of ******
Sobriquet inimical desiccation
One tentacle wrapped around and tickled

Diurnal nugatory verisimilitude
While other squeezed testicles
What was I talking about, oh yes
Everything got out of hand
Expect unthinkable gusting winds

To huff puff blow house down
Filthy rotten scoundrel but
Started out so sweet
Inchoate caliphate apocryphal
Wish I had her gift

I asked the old man
If he would miss existence
He flatly stated, “No.”
I asked him if he missed
His girlfriend who died

He said, “Yes, very much.”
Nothing beats love
Love beats on itself
Oblivion beats everything
Does anything stand a chance against oblivion?

Along the road to death
There are some amazing sights
Spectacles, sweet intimate moments
Along the road to breath
A kind of destiny begins

Am I talking over my head?
I chose not to father children
Because I knew I would make a terrible parent
Apparently by mistake
I’ve stepped on a few toes

The persistent inevitability of death
Sound of children playing, laughing
Dank smell of street sewer
I asked the old man
If he would miss existence

It’s what I can’t imagine
That keeps my eyes peeled
Glued to seat
Everyone in denial
And maybe that’s the worst part

Pretending.
We bury the dead
Celebrate creation
Is there somewhere else
Beyond these concerns?

Trust is a funny concept
We trust we will wake up tomorrow
And the sun rise
We trust in god
How ridiculous

She hates me because
She loves me
Her extraordinary brilliance
We might have found genius together
Separated, we’re simply hopeful remnants

Ok, here’s a joke
Adam: “What are you eating?”
Eve: “Snake gave it to me”
Adam: “The snake?”
Eve: (palms open reaching out) “We didn’t ****, I swear”

Acceptance beyond understanding
Beyond morality
Because there is no other choice
It’s what I can’t imagine
That arrests me

Being male, I wander
Mom dares not wonder
What kind of monsters she birthed
She brought her own equipment
I was aggressive but shy

Her womb is the most magnificent
Temple I’ve ever visited
There is nowhere else I want to be
Sister insisted
I stiffened then gave in

Children tease, squeal, scamper
Adults know unspeakable reality
Dizziness of first love
Mayhem, ******
Solemn whisper of infinity

After an uncertain age,
No one wants you anymore
Old women bond
Confer their anger
Old men tread alone

She knew from moment he laid eyes on her, she had him. She wore no make-up, anemic complexion, chin and jawline slightly broken out with red spots, cobalt blue irises, aquiline nose, hair dyed dark, fuzz-balled scarf, light blue fluffy sweater, big buttons, canvas shoulder bag, skinny jeans, leather boots, little boney black dog with ashen appointments. Instantly he fell in love. He confessed, “Your Chinese Crested pup stole my heart.”

In ******* position, neither lover sees other’s face. The top sees backside. The bottom sees what? He didn’t know.

She unlocks the door. He enters room. She tells him what to do, making demands. He follows her orders. She questions, “Why do we dance to these tunes?” He answers, “I want to smell your smells, ****, drink your darkest juices.” She articulates, “Stay,” then kisses him goodbye. She wakes wearing his ring, around her neck. They are each other’s slaves. Ceiling leaks, floor creaks, light beams through window as they waltz arm in arm.

She demands, “I want roast rack of lamb, or thinly sliced Serrano ham on buttered toast for dinner. And then I want to go home alone. I need some down time, away from you. I don’t belong to you, god-****-it!” Deep in financial debt, he hands the waiter his debit card.

It took a very long time for A to find B,
and possibly even longer for A with B to get to C,
then D shadowed, and along came easy E,
F hurried, G stumbled, and before you know it,
H pushed, I shoved, J fell, K and L bullied,

doormen and bouncers hired,
and hooked red velvet guest rope installed.
M and N showed legs and other stuff,
O accommodated, P arrived peeing and puking,
Q wandered in by mistake,

R flashed cash, S slid unscathed,
T grinned teeth, U did what?
V spread, W wowed,
and the rest, X, Y, Z,
is history.

If death is nothing, why fear it?
Is it the indifference of nothingness that disturbs the living?
All the energy and effort spent?
Unfinished business? Dead silence?
Or is it the tickle on skin of summer breeze?

Astonishing possibilities?
Privilege of existence?
There are moments when I
almost do it,
a very fragile brink, I want to

call, see, be with her so bad.
No matter what, I miss,
adore her intelligence, sense of humor, moods, body, beauty.
Why?
If death is nothing, why fear it?

Eyes perceive
group of young men approaching
momentary assumptions of danger
passes as inner fear and distrust
process high-spirited partying.

Z: “This is confusing. Put your thoughts in order.”
Y: “But there is no true order.”
Z: “Before you speak another word,
      what you got to bring to the table?
      Money? Property? Prestige?”
Y: “I offer poetry, ash drawings, new architecture.”
Z: “Lay it on the line, you ******, or be punished!”
Y: “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
Z:  “Burn this ******* on a stake,
       then eat remains.”

******* runs in pleading for *******’s life,
but it’s too late.
******* sits chewing charred flesh at table.
Biscuits get passed around vigorously.
No talk about death.

A: “Who’s the one?”
B: “You are, Daddy.”
A: “But I’m just a tiny force of nature.”
B: “Let’s go see about C.”
A: “Am I not enough for you?”

C: “What and where is love?
      Is it an illusion
      I strive for an impossible chance?
      When will we find each other?
      Will I feel belonging?”

A voice inside keeps repeating,
You’ll never have this opportunity again.
Title or first line sets precedent.
Pride is my sin, even with low self-esteem.

I remember severe pain
sitting at table
with head collapsed
on folded arms.

God sat across table from me,
asking, “Who do you think you are?”
I froze, forgot how to talk.
When I looked up, the thought was gone.

I recognize pattern within myself,
where I fall prey
to someone who may or may not
take advantage of me.

I grow anxious, fearful, needing to be released.
In childhood, my younger sister ran to my side,
but years of therapy freed her of that job.
I still return to pattern, frantic, self-destructive,

worthless feeling, with no one to rescue, nurture me.
You may wonder about my allure to my ex
and other damaged women I’ve loved.
Now you know, I’m ******-up.

Unseasoned, I scribbled, “If the peanut butter
isn’t streaked with jelly smears,
than you’re living too ****-retentive and proper a life.”
I realize my younger self wouldn’t like older self.

Enough about me, let’s talk about you.
What’s it like being a Siamese twin?
Are two heads really better than one?
When one of you finds a lover, what does the other do?

Do you look away? Close your eyes? Stare?
Who’s in charge of money?
Ok, I didn’t mean to get off on the wrong foot.
So you’re not actually a Siamese twin?

Seeing double is my problem, oh god.
Tonight my sister wrote,
“I begin to understand the mystery of life,
the moment unfolding, to harshness

and softness of just one moment,
so dear, to haunt you for desiring more.”
The moon tonight, thin sharp slice set on spine
in western sky. A miracle, that’s what I think.

You’ll never have this opportunity again.

Everything is such fun in the beginning,
when it’s new and undiscovered.
i’ll try almost anything.

What is meant by almost?
All these stupid sick **** roles we play,
all this pretending, why?

i want to believe there’s something
behind the curtain
besides a windowless stone wall

Something inexplicable
his/her majesty of everything/
living/dead/never existed.

William Blake said, “Either be a poet or a painter.
Being both muddies audiences, and discredits one or the other.”
Actually, Blake didn’t say that. i am lost.

is it possible to love after what has happened?
the rage, hurt, disappointment of betrayal.
my ex still stalks

as recently as two mornings ago,
all her exaggerations, over-reactions, fury.
Why so desperate to return to crime scene?

An admission of her own guilt?
Excessive compulsive wound licking (psychogenic alopecia)?
Another excuse for getting drunk?

When we waited for the elevator going down
You said, “Let’s just get this over with.”
i understood completely.

i, who worships my own death.
i, who ****** on my own grave.
i, who gets bored faster than speed of light.

i, who suspects killing around every corner.
i, who sleeps restless.
i, who worries.

i, who loves women.
i, who does not understand women.
i, who is a woman.

i, who bangs the dude in L.A. to advance my career.
i, who is a nobody.
i, a man with no place to stand.

i, who belongs to a family of
blustering flirts, flatterers,
kidders, thieves.

We sit at the table,
monkey-wrenching hand over fist lives.
Forget about the eyes.

Watch the fingers.
Don’t listen to the speeches.
Words are intentional distractions.

Where’s your wallet?
Gypsies? No, we’re not gypsies,
more upper-crusty, yes, very well-connected secrets.

Do the names Dante, or Cervantes, or Nabokov mean anything to you?
No, none of them are our kin,
but we know people who know people,

infidelities in very high places.
All i’m saying is,
once you reach a certain level,

we’re all family.
i will make success happen,
with or without you.