her pink polka-dotted p.j.'s
fall to the floor,
substituted by the cutest
pink shorts and white top,
suitable for tennis,
or initiatin' intervening dreams

this pinkberry madness,
a communicable disease,
for sure enough,
my manly fingers somehow,
turning pink as well

Imagine that

called the doctor,
doc, what's the cure for this madness?

doc said,
get plenty of bed rest,
you've been exercising that poetic urge
way too much

so shifted my head
to her side of the bed,
where those pink polka-dotted p.j.'s
happen to be still sleeping,

and said,
doc,
your advice is truly inspiring!


8:20am

in the summer before
everything ended,
we went to an art museum
that had entire rooms showcasing death
and you pulled me away before I could admire the human composition
stains, melted into bronze silhouettes, because
what if I thought it looked ugly

what if I figured out
I didn’t actually want to **** myself
and instead just wanted to escape you –

stains of strawberry juice around my mouth I thought of
as blood and you thought of
as lipstick

I prettied myself for
suicide , I scratched maps into my thighs – little guides of where a
knife would go
little hopes that if I saw the death display
maybe I would have known.

for years
it was all experimental. I watched pieces of us
come and go like art exhibits, you watched me as if I was nothing but
a work in progress
that soaked up so much paint I could
not help but look like you when it was through. I was
a child,  was
impressionist (impressionable –

now your thoughts persist
as human composition stains – happily, I am alive
and you will never be dead enough.

my younger self
rains on me like dew – she has given me
a new dawn, and as I awake

I feel
her mist. I want to thank her for
her sacrifice, but she
is too young to understand
that it is a sacrifice. She believes in love

she believes in love
but she
does not believe she deserves it.

still,
she gives warmth,   holding me like lips
******* on a thumb
           – young young young

Explosions & gunshots
(Simulated)
says an urgent text
from Notify NYC
on my cell,
well recv'd

reported to be
in Central Park,
my heart now skipping beats,
not comprehending the detensing
the declensing cleansing of...
                                                   s i m u l a t i o n

thinking only
my park, my park,
my country, my country,
a ****** battlefield!

a second glance, it's just
a heads up to keep my
head down,
from my bud, my boy,
Free *****
having a bit of fun
with us Ameddicans

Shakespeare in the Park presents:
Troilus and Cressida
which contains the use of smoke, haze,
cigarettes,
explosions, loud sounds,
blank gunshots & strobe effects.

cigarettes? cigarettes?  ***!

there is no smoking in the park,
not even for poets and
Playrights of renown,
no exceptions made
in this hard-nosed town

and that ladies and gents
is how
one distinguishes a
genuine New Yorkah

neither smoke nor haze,
explosions and gunshots,
an apple-cheeked citizenry faze
these hardy city folk,
from their pursuit of
the golden yolk,
the reward of the
dog-eat-dog yoke,
worn in the pursuit of
Life, Happiness & Liberte

don't even thinking about
smoking in our park,
or near my face,
then the loud noises
may be more than merely

stimulating

than blankly,

s i m u l a t i n g....

One night
The moon was high
As we said goodnight
With the longest goodnight kiss I've ever had
And the feelings I felt
All through that night
Had me hungry
Hungry for more

But here we are
Separated
By distance
Emotional and geographical
And I'm just
Waiting for the time
I can see you again
But till then
But till then
I'm hanging on a memory

The look in your eyes made me feel just right
Like I'm some miracle to behold
We fit just like puzzle pieces when you held me tight
Kissing my lips like they were yours

But here we are
Separated
By distance
Emotional and geographical
And I'm just
Waiting for the time
I can see you again
But till then
But till then
I'm hanging on a memory

I never thought
That I could ever miss someone
As much as I miss you
I never thought
That your picture could bring tears to my eyes
I never thought
That I would ever long to hear
Someone's voice as I do yours
Isn't that crazy, baby?

Yet here we are
Separated
By distance
Emotional and geographical
Just longing to be with you again!
But till then
But till then
I'm hanging on a memory
Hanging on a memory
Yes, oh yes, a beautiful memory~