light reveries follow her
and command that
she never again leave this city
a cast of riotous thousands
of which I had forgotten
are hanging about me, shyly
— my garland of wasted poesies hang
where no rain has fallen
and in a rather weak manner
she’s confessed in barren words
so strange and feverish,
that her blossomed eyes
made her unfit for a better place
outside in the dusted earth
it was the same story
sally forth and you will be sacrificed
here the altar shares the same hue, like me
it is dark and fiery
full of the forgotten lies
of a thousand crazy devils

far afield the handsome hide
the conquered enemy
that tyrants fear to kiss
while the young hold open their graves
Did I confess that I had almost been his wife?
the pleasant secret wasted my time
(such doomed gibberish)

I’d like to know without asking
what it was that I saw in the mirror
— smoky shadows departed
— a lavender blush exploding
into a strange madness,
by heaven, I am guilty
but like my gentle queen
I am haunted, great and solemn

she’d been amused by its black coat,
its eyes and hair,
but my wild stallion rests alone
in a purple wilderness, not quite of Damascus
where a corridor of tears are metal-steeled for glory and a monstrous cascade of
forget-me-nots are placed between my toes
so that I should love that murderer
(me, an effigy?)
it seemed a shame but which way the city?

they’d brought the men out
just so far in strength
and found that their monsters
were ruined by the twilight
I myself fancied stillness
rather like melted wax
and might lay here sleeping, forever

stuck in the bed all day, eyes glowing
dark liquid worlds
frightful icicles
an impatient and unfinished murmur
the blouse opened in the front
restores me to my common sense
(i don’t mean to encourage him, the imp)

fighting against necessity
you’d gone and spoilt everything
and even if I had fallen
looking so solemn I could not help
but to laugh in the mirror
banished within a small apartment,
dry and quiet
not for from folly or contrivance
the meek surrendered unexpected,
finding pleasure in my merest touch
unfriendly, you let yourself go
[Enter Fool.]

courtship lives (here) where there is ringing
do you love me?
do you see how I am treated?
I saw nothing but your excitement
in the confusion when the fallen angels
lagged behind the incredulous
in semi-darkness
left behind alone
one hand rests upon me
and then another
and it was not my fault

one thing has been overlooked
and you needn’t blame me
as I’ve not forgotten
like me the ghosts departed
the vain stars glittered
waiting for my reply,
and so farewell
trapped in regular intervals
the northern lights smiled brightly
but that’s enough
if they try any more than that
I don’t know what might happen

I am the Final Girl
Tell Mom and Dad in Heaven
that I Made It
and it was epic

though sometimes
I’m not so sure
that it’s over

little rumblings appear in the distance
peripheral glitches
strange things follow me
in daylight
they seem to know who I am
where I’m going
but I am quick
I have had the last laugh
I was ‘the one that got away’

never was there a clean solid ending
like after the high school prom
never did I hold a sword in hand
blood-splattered
alone
while the credits rolled in darkness
but all the same
I think that I’ve won
but will I remain victorious?

I can still feel about me
at times
a certain dread
that waits close at hand
ready
I know that I
was a missed opportunity
but there are advantages
in being underestimated
and of that I am thankful

sometimes dumb but deliberate flies
think that they are spiders
and old gray mice may fancy themselves
feline
how they linger, entranced
dazzled by luminescence (how I shine!)
and circle back again
one time more
when they shouldn’t
they take too long and are lost,
it works every time

I wanted you to know
Mom and Dad in Heaven
that my salvation
was like a soft ripple
gently pushed to shore
safety of a sort
after much ado
fighting on all sides, relentless
everyone a daemon
maybe even you? can’t help but wonder...
I was surprised to find out
just how casual
could be my destruction
how assured how confident
how very ordinary
how little it takes to break a person
I’ve seen it time and time again
(why, life itself!)

But here I am
calm yet concerned
I will not babysit
I will not enter that shack
I will not stop for gas
I will not drive shotgun
I will not take a swim
I will not ask for directions
I will not spend the weekend at the cottage
And I don’t want the doll
Not that party
Not that apartment
Not that country road
Not that doctor
Not that friend
Not that brother
Not that lover
Not that fool
Not anyone

I will not _
I will not _
I will not __

I’ve locked the door upon myself
and no phone will ring from within

Hey Mom and Dad in Heaven!
I made it!
I miss you guys!
I am the Final Girl
(and it was epic)

the boy most dearly loved by folly
was taken by a jealous sea,
reclaimed in fact for singing,
while out of doors
leaving me behind with time to think
by this fireplace, silent
and cautious by halves

at my doorway,
a grey mouse fidgeted, curious
pointing ‘this way’
with some calculation
and its bitter giggle denounced me
tho nervous, watchful
waiting for the imminent flood
nimble with his tail, when
he began to dance a silent game
I thought this all rather strange
(there was nothing that I could hear nor see)

this thing to be recovered
from the trembling waters
whatever it is, I will find it
as some strange blaze has come
for my gutted heart,
baking in its own ashes

come the wanton twilight
you can hear that the lotus flowers,
impatient,
cannot not keep time
and eventually with no melody,
will forget all about me
their muddy pink petals,
taste bitter

what greater tenderness
does the sea remember?
what song?
barefoot, near salty shores
fast-escaped from this prison called love,
have I ever been fairly compensated?
the sky holds no trace of his melody
the notes have not lingered in the airs,
hanging beyond my reach,
however tuneful they had once been

my giggling mouse
suggests that the Queen
had given me all the facts,
none of which can I remember
(what queen? what facts?)
somehow I’m wanting more,
nevertheless,
I have no loose ends

Go ahead and try
to sell to the sailors
a blaze of deliriums,
or any sort of thing

The stars fell for the illusion
and I would too
if I could believe in their lost reputations

Raw with grief
they thought me mad
so let the stars divide
in this withered sort of dream

All the elements combined
to forge a rare thing
reeling against the heavens.

What have they been doing
in the mist-filled wilderness?

I could have amazed you
by lighting it in the dark
where I felt a soft helplessness,
and the flames might conspire
to miss me too
but somehow, we are all more wonderful (pretending)

Over my sailor’s head
all the seas laughed and laughed,
and laughed again
nothing left for me but tragic flowers
and wreaths.
I’d call that foolish

I’d prefer not to become
another one of his
tho I’m sure
that I will read about
what happened tomorrow

The inner doors opened
and he retraced his weary steps
along the (gangplank)
but really, you should have
a lady’s mind like mine
arranging my morning alone in this room
a face to the ground
quite motionless

Sitting so nicely
they hadn’t guessed
what unfinished tragedy
by which the dead
argue with history

We danced until his last hour
when as if by magic, darkness came
and in a low voice he whispered
I am brave

is it not tomorrow then
when darkness comes and shadows deepen?
I felt a tug about my elbow and so I chased him down, the fool
I can’t stop smiling because I know
that ghosts pass through the arch here amongst the trees

a passing fable, her tongue calls for holy ones
and a back-talking raven (too large)
declares that these
dazzling creatures visit here
all four seasons the year

drenched in this
strange golden atmosphere
where the new light moves
I have seen one waiting
but it will not last

I kicked and thrashed about
as the golden halos fell
not settling for a perfect, easy peace
I could feel them approaching
the calm, steady breathing of this crowd
young and scattered
I was stroking the injury
I was ousted from my bed
The moon so beautifully
wanders along
amid its own awful brightness
matching silence upon silence
and merits some reflection
but about that part
where the tame are blushing
not even the gods will fight

grapevines and honey?
O, spinster!
I will endure the sea!
war? let this come too
we feared the news from abroad
fates upon the shore
so rare a breast, mine
the vistas bellow
I wove a tapestry of chance
and we could have enjoyed the mad labyrinth,
but instead we are lost

the first swan shall answer my questions
(living within the flames)
with a budding springtime hypothesis
it will warn that you shall win me in two days
and marry me in six
small hands will appear
waving on these hills
those little men
dulled by their own brightness
having stirred behind the curtains

the sun sets in one direction only
and if the seed is lost
it is too late
the sky, now empty
looked weary
and faint with fear
I spoke to you of
Love’s Sincerity
but it was worse than before

I said that I felt formless, but
my heart went along
shaping itself instead
while under the sky I talked to you
but I have not even the vaguest
little smile to share

your attempts deserve far more
but your beauty made it impossible
the field mouse heard the thunder clap
and was sadly
in the end
betrayed by a water sprite
my nation’s flags are all in tatters
come along, we’ll go together

The officer rode off,
following instead the other one
and I was sure that he’d never cry out
in a cold fury,
I, myself was full of peace and joy
as I didn’t know then
that horrors
have a half-life
but there it is

instead come and sing!
make me merry!
***** was his nature
with a mouth full of a *******’s teeth
I beheld this vision of chewed brambles
and him
with too many feathers and fearfully soft,
a wasted sweetness
gutted, extinct

I smashed the glass and heard
an owl’s muffled cry
from very far away
‘eureka!’
the night’s thunder dances
kissing many a god’s
honey drops of warning:
Don’t give a thing to that puzzler there

loving a thousand times
in the strangest fashion
any gentlewoman would be ill-equipped
feeling very small and broken

an enchanted world went round and round
the green wanders
follows midnight
the first thing i did was to look
quite pleased finding
a shining fire and haze
calling out to sailors

I could not persuade a gorgon’s heart
unshaven hungry wild
I caught the last glimpse of an underworld
but burned my fingers
feeling my way
Indeed I have lost him
beyond the edges of my own light

giddy with indifference
each moment before dawn
I had alone
tonight, heaven is wordless
everything, waiting
as I struck a match
with an intricate face
the experimental gentleman
licks the page, in love

this is the house that held my love
growing in the middle
adapting to our needs
it sits in a whisper
and tries as it might
not to get in the way of us

my hands were full of berries
scorched by the newborn air
and for a brief moment I hung by
indeterminate
waving about, however gracefully
while you spoke again
to a lovely rabbit
who may be wild
did you see how I smiled to reassure you?

no more a dense tangle
out of the sight of stars, twinkling
unafraid of the sacrifice
it was enough to scatter grace upon
a monster with rusting teeth who asked
why name it at all?
no more honeyed kisses nor
comforts found upon the altar
but a certain sense of folly
governs the public
it is enough that I call her mine
and above the night shone

My mirror is full of soft clouds
that may surprise you
their subtle qualities cast shadows
around my heavy head and ask
what might the darkened night intend
it is surely sacred to ironic nymphs
and the moon
whose night ambassadors
glow across the winds

a tender cheek
being ill-qualified and virginal
can admit sadly that
nothing much happened
but the pale beats of a jumprope
counted out the letters so
now I know your name
and that is some comfort
at a glance the horses offer
a wilderness
my aristocracy is hardening
landed within the seasons, intermittent
the sky secured a safe space grimly
the world rose and fell
and wore the hue of heaven

I am yellow, rooted
never quite knowing
just how near we might have come
to one another, yet
I thought that I loved as much
by saving all my punishments
to buy this one small island
with some thirty-five souls
brought back to life and for a time
we forgot our differences and instead
fought with shadows for well over a year

now things have greatly changed
where once there was sufficient distance between my guests and I,
room enough to unfold the great thoughts between us
and chairs for all to sit upon
in a glassy calm October

the winds blew rude
along our smooth and sandy beach
though they were surely never worth
my dusty tears

Instead I have been feasting
for some time not quite alone
with the little madame
in the doorway
and where the light has bit my hand
I placed the saucer down before her
I knew she understood my desire
to touch a nodding swallow
prone to fly very low
in spite of callow breezes
and wore both a rare crown,
and an indistinct expression

They hurried after me
pattering like angels’ wings
but it was of no use
asking for so much
the stars were pinned onto a blue felt sky
and the white hot moon let fall a small strip
upon which my fortune had been written gamely

I shouted again at the too-tired birds
open this garden’s gate
and let me see within!

nobody can see us
wasting our days
grinning in a desperate way
within this light
I became aware of strange feelings
of some bleak magic
and alone felt a melting from within
as one might turn around
waiting to compose a beautiful letter
desperate amongst the daffodils

There’s nothing much more to remember
but the starlight
although I felt enough courage
to write a wild letter recalling shadows

when the sea collapsed
I bore the mockery
my mind full of color
continued its descent
past the debris and with such longing

What I had composed
was a rather short letter
a note really
intense and scrupulous
my imagination, free
I addressed you with my instincts
and asked you how you were

I imagined you, seated at the piano
repulsing criticisms and questions
Outside the wind, guilty
has no manners
curling petals
and is a great deal louder
although it doesn’t care about the color

I was in an agony
as I sensed your dismal laughter
What will I do
when danger comes?

I might as well confess
I too have memory
and must put an end to all my adventures
You seemed strangely concerned
and gave out a cry
The moon was curious and
with its hands upon my shoulders
tried to draw me close
but there’s no use talking to it
as I’ve ceased to be young
and mischief makes me tired

I lie in bed making up stories
about all the girls who marry
wandering up and down
long azure hallways illuminated

You looked at me in amazement
back at the house
and I suppose
you wanted to dance beside me
solitary as a goldfish
twisting and loosed out of hell

I felt the demure chill
of a wisteria gazing, watchful
and a little disconcerted
but I’m very fond of you
all the same

I was trapped
by the first move
on the chessboard,
where Truth is terrible
hidden in autumn
a ****** attended, getting brown
a forsaken habit

Taking the most proper
and considerate course,
I sat by the edge of the wall watching,
dragging my shadow alongside
with bread enough for two and
ready for company.
I understood exactly when
you simply said ‘Check’

Why does the snow kiss so gently?
Wayward, with nothing to fear?
I was absolutely afraid to go!
My best room withered in summer days
when the sun barely fell
all animal heat
a flame in each other’s breath
with no chance to cool

Rising up like smoke
and sweeter drops than honey,
a young man’s love flies
and with my eyes shut, my house dreams crooked
I’ll press my whims upon
the mysteries of ghosts whose voices overwhelm large and common in the sunshine
upon that very water,
he trembled vexed
the sky nosed about
looking for present blunders
the daisies are indeed the worst of all
I’ve seen so many gardens
but none such as this

Humanity came to mind
tho quickly vanished into some
summer glory
The burden stilled,
Half-talking yet half-asleep
tried to persuade me
I, being somewhat lucid
curled up in the corner
where I practiced a rude grace
not even a bribing god could intervene
I remembered that the company
within my house had finished,
enjoying too long a visit while
I peered through the window
looking for wild beasts
and a few comparisons,
actions codified,
there I saw that a single dandelion
was watching me from the pasture
across the way
and understood my situation
resentful angels are legion
and shake off their love like sweat
whereas all that was wrung from my heart
could not quite fill a cup,
to spill

carefully her shadow
looked about for the devil
who found itself
laying quite comfortably amongst
some old tarnished cutlery.

here, shadows can recall
what tall crystal forgets
She placed her knife down
alongside the other silver,
perfectly still

The kingdom is troubled,
she smoothed back her curling hair
‘my secret is that
you really should not have come back here’

alarmed,
I wandered ‘round the room
looking for two white stones and hope
but instead I found
that I am lame with memory.
she shook with jellied laughter
I implored weakly, just above a whisper,
‘Nevertheless, you must tell me
what Juliet said.’

Where the stars turn to rust,
I hit it right
and it made me wild with thought
that before we know where we are
It will be Spring
and She will enter

I did not enjoy seeing you the other day
and I wear your necklace as a reminder
of sweet things and of your seduction
my heart regards me, steadfastly
with tiny, bright eyes, and
ultimately retreats rejoicing
in the strength of ten thousand archers
golden arrows fly
so numerous they blot out the sun

Stange shadows come alive and
when shall I play for you the music of the
April rain?

Hector wears his leaves
in midsummer morning
paired with tangled tails, harsh with knots
while the kitten, bored and yawning
sits demurely

The ball begins to unwind again
and I’ll admit my voice was reproachful
I saw the sunlit bonfire overhead and
turned my heart as if to say
I’m glad to help if only I might
gently touch
a perfect impression of you
and your red eyes darting sideways

In this peculiar space
your brightness fades
and quietly you said to yourself
‘I couldn’t make you tidy’

This old dame will outlast the seasons
and Nature, affected
staggers aside,
blunders

A shadow deep beneath
a ruined pile
thought that it should be
dead by now
I put out my hands and
wicked tears fell like rain
I gave a kiss to make it understand and touched something else,
tho it flew away too fast for me
to see distinctly, in the darkness
It told me
‘I am here’

There was no telling as much,
always the same, the sun and the wind
somewhere
I had that chilled feeling,
certainly in early morning
as I think you very well knew.

gently, over a surface distraction that saw
the white giant crumble,
he flailing
and failing to be still
and at indistinct intervals
staggered, without consequence
flecked insane although I had not seen it

a rotten companion, solitude
a reeling, drunkard at ease in starlight
he will not hear her speak of what is
and what is not

I heard the owl cry ‘away with her!’
and how nice for me to see you
clinging to the flower spray, for now
we are older and for once safe
in our chambers
yes! consider those girls never alone
nor melancholy,
not the least of which in dreams

the moonlight made spots before me
colored
while i entered groping
singing
‘Will you dine with me on eggs and beer?’

The silkworms are but gone but words might hold me in catastrophe
The sun will go on with its usual calling
don’t fret now
it is our bedtime.

Nobody’s about the polish of
carbon darkness
but to her,
hours before her rescue
it was dreadful
and later
as the night brims shining,
she would gather about her
bright eyes for a sad tale.

I do not trust the steam in dreams
and yet I cannot stop it.
Happy summer days the sky pours
although there was nothing much to look at save the rains that polished a sailor’s sea
Something kindred and melancholy
remembers me
a wanton, restless bird
Eurydice
I dreamt disagreeably that I was drowned
then rescued before dawn
upon a bed of anemones,
(friends) expanded and swelled
to welcome me or were they violets?

What I found were
bright spots, vague synchronicities
and phony boys
pretending to have a secret
that they kept from all the rest.
I thought your voice was a trumpet call,
moving me to tears
and it’s an odd feeling
having watched the dawn
and heard the nightingale.
Did I like it?
I certainly did not.
Instead my heart unknowing
reached for chaos.

Always write at midnight, gaily
any scrap will do
it seems
I found her to be difficult, yet charming
and a little doubtful,
her lies smell of sweet cream
and the sound of rain.
Now, hush.

I could think of no other purpose,
Love.
They sang throughout the night
while I was found, in the garden.
It would be simpler, he said, if they would just remember me, but
there were too many of them.

‘With a ‘well, well, well,
what have we here?’ I can enter any room
with confidence, hand on hip
[the Nurse called from within]

It reminded me of the idiots and ghouls
between myself and myself,
while I scratched like a cat.

What a piece of junk!
But I think that it will be enough.
The whole world was changing in those days while the haze reminds me of leaves,
and of you.

You are standing in a garden.

‘What’s the railroad to me?’
demanded the queen,
interrupting and pointing
‘Right over there, that nobleman passed.
Right
over
there.’

You can feel the frost above
where there is a whispering.
It’s the place that I never go to see.
Up on the slate
and then slinking around
back streets
into somewhere else.

Here, the nobleman, was
blown in from the bay.
‘He only went so far,’ the queen said,
again she’s pointing out directions
‘and then he turned ‘round,’ she demurred
‘and came right back.’

‪ ‪”Pinch him!” I said.
“As you wish.” she said.

On this morning of the Great Snow,
perchance,  
I thought to myself
‘I am getting old’
and so I laughed out loud.

“Ah, at last, I see that you are!”
he then proclaimed,
while our wee Angus
vanished from the picnic.

“I want to come with you to Alderaan,” he said co-conspiring, and hearing that,
Jove laughed!

“O gentle Romeo, if thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully.”

Are they strictly local?
I wonder what, of her inspirations,
she’s seeking through the Sun

Whatever it is,
It is something
I walk away again.
Hollywood again.

He leaps down unto the glossy sheen
arms out back straight chin raised

No.

But I’ve been trying.
Or, softly pirouetting Fred Astaire
Tuxedo’d tails like bird’s wings
hang low on the body
Cuz I’ve been trying.
In turn, she’s losing the Sun.

It rests like a clear bubble
Large, between.
Amorphous.
It is,
in as much as
It isn’t.

Is she done yet?
I saunter over.

No.

Where you from?
The phone rests precariously
On the metallic lawnchair,
filming.
I have to move my seat.
LOUD is always the giveaway

What I’ve just realised is that
I have never heard my neighbour laugh.
Criticisms anchor,
Bewildering.

I wonder does
she bounce awake,
up and into the early morning
tap dancing?

An off-key bleat pierces
before even the coffee beans
can be ground down

For a long time I look out the window
standing in the place of
any and all distractions.
Pinned to the wall.

Can you ever leave Hollywood?
But, here I am again!
Splat.
I mean, really?
Since I was 17!

No.

She’s practicing her lines to the
Atmosphere.
Thrashing, like so.
Suggesting, rather.

She,
Seated in the other, resorts to
Choreography.

There she is,
Transfixing.

Again,
another one.

My dearest Sammy,
The Mix Master came
Easter, Sunday
And we have not had time
To more than read
The literature
Put it together
And gloat
Oh
So beautiful
Is the Mix Master
So beautiful
We are very happy
To have it here
Bless you Sammy

Madame Roux said
oui
Il est si gentil
Et en effet
He is dear little
Sammy
Easter morning
What a spring
Lovely
as I have never seen anything
Lovely
Alice is all
Smiles
and murmurs in her dreams
‘Mix Master’

X
Gertrude

Although
I don’t remember specifics
I believe I had some leftover shake
I don’t remember any clear plastic baggie
nor how much was in it
(******* worth?)
But at the time
I had been doing a good deal of baking
Savory tortes
Fluffy quiches
Cookies always
And so I made a batch of brownies
Dark and Chewy?
That I’d like to think but I don’t remember
What I do know is that I tried them
and decided that
I wouldn’t share
Not really
They were that good
A dreamy sweet high
Really nice
Lovely in fact
But eventually
I softened and wrapped up maybe
Two
And took them to Venice

I don’t remember who got the first one
but I gave the second
to an inveterate ‘head’
****** since birth
most likely
I thought out of everyone
she would appreciate it the most
A connoisseuse
And I waited for her critique
I might add that although is seemed irrelevant
To me
she was what they refer to as
Rock-and-Roll Royalty
‘so-called’
and her then Fuckbuddy Roommate was
an Actor (aspiring)

The critique came sure enough
But not what I had expected
as
She didn’t eat it
But gave it in turn to him, the Fuckbuddy
Passing it along
To curry favor
To advance in the entanglement
To keep him interested and provided for
-i got you baby-
And not to make
too strong a point
but I didn’t much like the guy

It would have been a sad enough fate
for the Little *** Brownie
If it had ended there
but the Fuckbuddy
brought it along to a meeting
To a casual tête-a-tête with
A Major Hollywood Film Director
Huge, at the time
An auteur
Of course
You know his Work
He’ll be considered iconic
at some point
If not already
And the Little *** Brownie was passed along again
To curry favor
To create a connection
To cast the glow of good fellowship and commiseration
The wink
The nod
But this time it was eaten
And afterwards the
Major Hollywood Film Director
I was told
made a personal phone call
To let the Fuckbuddy know
About upcoming projects
Most likely those that
would never include him
And to state:
‘by the way, that brownie you gave me...
It Wasn’t Any Good.’

In turn
The Fuckbuddy (who scored a major TV role without a brownie and subsequently dumped her)
let Royalty know too
And she,
in turn
Rolled it back to me
So the moral of the story is:
Be Mindful With Whom You Share Your Gifts

‘Man’s Search for Meaning’
rests upon the garden table
Neon yellow highlights drawn almost to the last word
but leaving it, dangling

Two cups of coffee accompanied
She talks and talks unceasing
Not a breath to inspire
Not a pause
Not a subject
Not a point
Nor conclusion

KAW keh KAW KAW!!!!
KAW KAW!!!!!
The chin never stops.

He looks away
Returning her a brief glance
One Banana, Two Banana
Barely looking her in the eye
His earbuds resting down below his shoulders
But close enough and ready
To block out the sound
And yet
He won’t stick them in
and shut out
mania
A maniac

Nodding
on the rare occasion
However briefly
He looks away
Turning his head politely to
Drag one more time on that joint
A morning joint that won’t survive her onslaught of words

There’s just not enough time what with him pulling away on me like that?!

He drags on his ****
Making sure he’s alive
Are you still there buddy?
Luckily you don’t have ears, eh!

He drags again
More attentive to the filter and the
Slim
White
Stretch between his fingers
Just like the other one
The one in his pants
Close enough to the side pocket

He picks at the lint on his Adidas
And examines his fingernails
Pulls at his ****** hair
Stealing a suspicious
Narrow eyes glance back at her
She leans in and stare at the earthen floor
The leaves have been swept away

She wears little
Blessed with an ample ***** but no brain
She keep her robes open
She can cook and sweep the floors
And talk and talk and talk

But will this keep him?
He’s smiling now
Laughing, ******.
He’ll make it through to lunchtime
She’s off to the kitchen ‘for a sec’
And look, he’s on his phone
To another one so far undetetected
He’s grinning
Maybe there a pictures!

I know someone in Mexico
who keeps hers
in very fine high quality cigars
He knows about such things
And there used to be one up the street
who sported very short shorts
In hopes of keep him distracted
or preoccupied
The space filled alongside her
In her bed at night

In the distance,
The Spanish Evangelicals Sing!
And Sing!
Endless!
Rejoicing!

It’s been hours!

Sometimes there really is
no excuse to wear yoga pants
But the vaccine is here
And things could get shaky
Unstable
The eyes having begun their wandering
in advance of the Summer Solstice
And it’s very nearly time to advertise.

Leaving their outdoor table
He makes a quick exit
To another assignation
And alone
He’s run away!
She opens the book again
Just a few pages left
She’s almost done
Yellow pen in hand
mouth closed

Remember
Back in the day
When those parties
In Venice
That say would have 25 people or so
Walking through?

Now they were
Too big
Over-packed with
50-200?
With frat boy vibes?

Dana Rick and I
Arrived at one
And I thought a
At the sliding glass door
Oh God
And quickly escaped to the kitchen
Cutting through the living room
Where there was the make shift bar
Nothing much in the
Fridge

Anyway
I made my drinks
And turned around
To cross back
And somehow Dana was there
In front of me

She raised her hands
And wiggled through the bodies

While I
Said
NO
I will dance
When I feel like it
I choose

So I began to follow
And every elbow knees hip and arm
Reached out to touch me
Knocking all the contents out of
my little plastic cups

And though
I got to the other side
Contemplatively
Looking back
Empty

The three of us
Went to stand on the side of the house
Safe
By the water meter
And I laid down my cups
Laughing

So the moral of this story
Although I think it’s obvious
Is to
Go
With
The
Flow

Venice parties
You know those
200 in a space made for 50?
A monster that
You had to
Protect yourself from?

Three of us
In the living room and I got
To the Kitchen. For safety.

Serving adequate, and me
on my way back
Drinks in each hand
Bodies through Dana leading
Her arms above her head
bouncing she won’t spill a drop
The other hands follow
again, me with
stubborn arms
refusing
thus liquid contents emptied and
Sticky
the floor underfoot
Splashed

Outside
The water meter stood laughing
told us about the flow and to go with it

I.
Please wait for me
for I shall return
My love for you will forever burn
Though we must part
There's no reason to cry
Just say so long
Because lovers never
say goodbye
I love you
My darling
more than life itself
I wouldn't try to hurt you
For I'd only be hurting my self
Just kiss me dear
And hold me tight
For you know this is not our last night
Though we must part
There's no reason to cry
Just say so long
Because lovers never say goodbye
KALI

II.
KALI
KALI
KALI
KALI
KALI
KALI
Well, my KALI
Do *** de wadda
I love you so
Do *** de wadda
My KALI
Do *** de wadda
I want you to know
Do *** de wadda
oh my dear
Do *** de wadda
That I love you so
Do *** de wadda
Please come back to me
Do *** de wadda
I want you, my love
Do *** de wadda, oh
Wish you were here
Do *** de wadda
I need you so much
Do *** de wadda
My dear
Do *** de wadda
My KALI
Do *** de wadda, oh
KALI
KALI
KALI
Oh, my KALI
KALI
KALI
KALI
Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh
Do *** de wadda
Do *** de wadda
Do *** de wadda
Do *** de wadda, oh
Do *** de wadda
Do *** de wadda
KALI
KALI
KALI
Oh my KALI
KALI
KALI
KALI

Do *** de wadda
Do *** de wadda, oh
Oh my KALI
KALI
KALI
Please come back to me
I want you so much
AH
Wish you were here
AH
I need you so much
AH
My dear
AH
Oh darling
I wish you were near me
do wah dee wah dee wah
Oh, please come back to me
do wah dee wah dee wah
I want you so much
do wah dee wah dee wah
Wish you were here
do wah dee wah dee wah
I need you so much
do wah dee wah dee wah
KALI
KALI

III.
I’ve been searching all this wide world
Now I’ve found my candy girl
Candy girl
KALI

I’ve found me a girl.
KALI
She sets my heart a whirl.
KALI
With huggin, huggin
And kissin, kissin
And lovin
She’s mine mine mine mine
Oh my candy girl.
Whoa oh oh oh oh KALI
KALI KALI KALI KALI KALI

We get along so well
KALI
I know just why I fell
KALI
She’s thrillin thrillin
We’re chillin chillin
Oh she’s so Divine
She’s mine mine mine mine
Oh my candy girl
Whoa oh oh oh oh KALI
When we’re out together KALI
Everyone knows the way we feel KALI
We glow with the glow of love KALI
And it’s plain to see that our love is real KALI
Oh my candy girl
Whoa oh oh oh oh KALI

I’m as happy as can be KALI
She’s gonna love me for eternity KALI
To hold me hold me
To love me love me
Until the end of time
She’s mine mine mine mine
Oh my candy girl
OH KALI

IV.
Mmm dooby do
Dahm dahm dahm **** oo dooby do
Dahm dahm dahm **** oo dooby do
Dahm dahm dahm **** oo dooby oo
Doo ooby doo
KALI

Come softly to me my darling
Come softly to me my darling
Come softly to me my darling
Come softly to me my darling
Come softly to me my darling
KALI KALI KALI KALI KALI

Come to me to stay
KALI
You’re my obsession
For ever and a day
MY SWEET SWEET
KALI

I want I want you to know
That I love love you so so so so
Please hold hold me so tight
All through through the night
MY KALI

Please speak to my softly softly
And hear what I what I say
I will love you
always always always
Love you
KALI

I’ve waited waited so long
For your kisses and your love
I need need you so much
Want to feel your warm touch
KALI

Mmm dooby do
Dahm dahm dahm do **** ooby do
Dahm dahm dahm do **** ooby do
Dahm dahm dahm
oh dahm Uhm dooby do

Mmm dooby do
Dahm dahm dahm **** oo dooby do
Dahm dahm dahm dahm oo dooby do
Dahm dahm dahm **** oo dooby do
Damg dahm dahm dahm oo
KALI
KALI
KALI
YOUR MY END OF TIME
END OF TIME
KALI

Within his paw
smeared bloodied red
by a deliberately mocking thorn
sat a
blanched ripple-y
guarachera strip of cloth
confined narrowly
between the love and the life lines.

TWO ROADS!

what remained of her
remained of the underthings
beneath

fluffing rows of silk
the heavy skirt had been raised
above the ankles
the creases no longer hidden in shadow,
one leg hoisted over the back,
the reigns held expertly.

Hey Beauty!
As it happens, the card numbered Eight is
Strength (also Lust)

She had surely fled
She has surely flown
through the trees and away
Not on foot at-all
while the three saw her pass.
great speed.
The two sisters
with that prince vulgaris looking on
curiously
Three daemon goblins watching from a distance
a disturbance
a smallish crashing
and afterwards
a scrap, sleepy and unfurled, relaxed
within the leaves that shudder
and give up the delicacy, slyly
into stubby fingers

Lovely
Dark
Deep
The Woods are Laughing!
Did you notice any scent?
Did it linger between
the thumb and the ring?
the remnant of her flowers,
Petals flouncing, swirling
in odorous potentiality.
a scrap, yes
a deep seated souvenir
Can we re-fabricate the whole from this little thing, you think?

we want her.
there are things that we want to do with her.

dangerous, they lean in close, nostrils flaring slightly
searching for the ambergris or the sticky  jasmine
sweet,
settling instead to gaze upon
the still clutched
still a little springy
sprightly, o! the remnants of her liveliness
and ***** and yet
No memories

3: at least let us show you the stage that we’ve built
with a clean sheet for the curtain,
paper cut-outs
and some sticks.
it’s called acting.
the wine and the wafer.
hidden in the trees’ darkening
‘the mattress’ lays where
the leaves will crumple

meanwhile, he’s petulant:
- why, if you’d just get off of that high horse!
- how long are you going to resist?
- are you STILL angry?
- why won’t you just let me stick it in you?

she telegraphs her response, cough:
‘you do know that in this
particular scenario
(fingers pointing downward and across
as if to suggest
that the scenario
had a specific location)
You are the wolf, right?
The wolf...

I, the girl,
am in the forest with my basket and
I have got a
cute little
blood red
crushed velvet
swing coat
With matching hood and a single task
And YOU
(with those other two *******) have decided
to bore ME with this ****?
Daresay slow ME down?
Of course I will get rid of YOU.
Wait, who am I talking to?

Let me also add that
there never has been any
high-stepping on my part,
nor ankle twirling,
no mandate to impress a stale balcony,
no sign of gaslit
illuminated
pink bows
that lay down flat
perfectly upon the straps
that snap
perfectly at the thigh,
NOT to be slid off a buttock (mine)
NOR crumpled into a dubious ball, ripped and torn
and yet I know that
that determined creature,
a hairy monster
more faithful than Argos,
is prepared
to wait a lazy eight
at grannie’s cozy house
in a sickly corner
over-eager and overwrought with
pandered fantasies
and explosions of once sort or another, irrelevant to me.

What I WILL admit to is
that the touch of those grubby fingers
transubstantiated at my waist
invisible
approach
as usual from behind
impatient and
impractical,
always too quick to make himself a beast
to rid himself of being a man

knowing how way
leads onto way
but I doubt if I should ever come back’

Neither Ghost
nor Father
nor a Sun
But still a 3-in-1,
with a flash of lightning
laying
scarred between
them eyes
All together
yet always alone
Standing behind a dais
on Zoom
invoking with the one good 20/20 between them,
broadcasting words into being,
manifesting Hitlerian spells
to bewitch and
to squander
the True Tales
of a Plummeting Icarus Struck Down
wingless
(but not forgotten)
by some transcendental debasement.
Admire as 'They yet She' reel a bit,
employing a well-worn
tactical maneuver,
now, getting steady,
holding on ever tighter
to the wood.
These my w.c.fieldsian barkers
who share a predestined
and enflambed
yet glorious
lavender-tinged
third eye,
with little specks of gold,
surrounding...
Inspired,
Transported,
'They yet She' look to be pinning it down
This very specific Message
from the Heavens,
straight.
'They yet She' are converging
and this should be
your takeaway
So kind of pay attention,
Please.
"'The Lord sayeth unto me
that all Men are Fools,
given to wanton callowness'
To which i reply:
'If only they would look
into the cavity,
and reach deeply and far-flung
to grasp, or rather,
to treasure
just one of a myriad of
interchangeable
divine possibilities
For within the obscurity
rests
The Glory
of All
or Nothing
and back again
for Eternity;
the Eight laying down
to rest,
tired.
And so ends The Lesson.'
To which the Lord replied
'Well done U!'
and better still,
'They yet She' intoned,
satisfied
with a sly, flyaway wink
'I know!'"

That first week was fine
But now it’s just like
I don’t know
Right?
I’m like
Oh my god
Are you kidding?
I mean
Are you sure?
You know what I mean?
Like come on
It’s like
You know what
I don’t know
Like you’re basically hearing him die
It’s just like
Oh my god
You’re ******* serious
Are you kidding me right now?
It’s like wow
No ******* way
It’s just like
I don’t know
You know what I’m saying right?
That’s pretty much it
I’m getting used to my hair.

You Made Me Go Through All These Experiences Just So I Could Write About It? (too long)
or
TISFU (that is so ****** up)
Or
Next!
Or
L’enfer c’est les autres
Or
I Hate Strangers!
Or
Street Corner Conundrum
or
Is that Approaching Drunken Psychotic ******* Yelling At Me?
Or
You say Zombie...I say Zombie Works
Or
I’m Happy **** It! 🤗
Or
You Sugared? The Peas?
Or
Does He Have Balance Problems or Has He Been Body-Snatched?
Or
Digital or Analog?
Or
Get Your **** Outta My Face
Or
A Rose By Any Other Name
Or
Extreme Peripheral
Or
Is That a Cowbell?
Or
You Said That The Lord, Jesus Christ Wants To Mug Me?
Or
Winter’s Coming
Or
Do It For Less
Or
Yes My Legs Are Great!
Or
My Friend Says That People ****!
Or
******* Rabbithole
Or
RabbitAss Hole Hole
Or
Dingbat!
Or
God the Couture Warned Me!

It was disturbing enough
to wake me
in total darkness
And I chose then
in my kind of horror
to go to the bathroom to ***
Shaking my head
Troubled
In the wee hours
Not again
Why does this always happen to me?!
Not only is he a ghost
He’s a very old ghost
So what am I supposed to do with that?

She was dead serious
This voice in my head if you will
Earnest
‘But you don’t understand’ she explains
And I wonder where this is going?
‘He’s in love with you’

Okay?
Now what?

There’s a list somewhere
that I compiled years ago
Of questions that never had the chance
to be posed
Although approved officially by Robert
and perhaps by Bob as well
I was going to revise it
to make them even more
Impressive
Robert said that I was a genius
but to stop showing off
Questions concerning Jack,
Mass media,
The World War
in which they never fought
not for one second.
I think now
that I would like to have added
Something regarding
middle class conventions
and their subsequent
however
reluctant
disappointments
And what it must have been like
to aspire to them
In the 40s
When instead there was
Times Square and The Village
****** and Bop
Errant ****** activities
And the San Remo
Huncke suicided
by misbegotten sidewalks
And hapless blue precincts
waiting

Robert mentioned a brief car ride taken
in some Confederate State
Maybe he was in the backseat
and a joint was passed to him
He
who doesn’t indulge
if you will
Although pulmonary carcinoma
would claim him in no time at all
It was his finest moment
Sandwiched gleeful between these two
Literary
Giants
The radio not working
Now they are all dead
And I would like to think
That they are together again
encased in squeaky automotive  
Upholstery
Somewhere unearthly

Laying in bed
before sleep comes
in the new year
KNX newsradio
read the press release
Issued
It was cancer
It was terminal
There would be nothing further
and I said nothing the following morning
Staring at a wall of books and
climbing along on a rolling wooden step ladder
This isn’t even my department
The people coming through the door
were grim and silent
having bought their plane ticket to NY
To sit by his bedside
While he lay in coma
With Bessie Smith records
play softly nearby
and atmospheric
This was not a time for personal aspirations
Nor nursing the loss of a regretfully
jettisoned exchange
And although I had been warned previously
About a certain someone being
prickly
and possibly ******
and very short-tempered
and I had wondered
heretofore
how it would all go down
On the telephone
The two of us had shared a brief
‘What is he looking at?’ moment
That time here in LA
He staring at me from
a bit of a distance
on the court
And me in my chair with yet another
cigarette,
turning my head around to look behind me
to see again nothing
(God knows how many times)
Until I
An idiot
Realized that it was me that was
The subject of his eye
And I thought again
As I had done in the morning mirror
My god
My hair looks terrible

That list whereever it is
Perhaps in that laptop
That leans against my bedroom wall
Dead
on the floor
over there to my left
The one that I always pass
On my way to the john
The one that I stumble by
in the dark,
THAT list that exists
still
in my brain,
THAT I still tinker with,
THAT list exists
I would like to think
in both;
a list of questions that will always have
no answers.
To Allen
Who loves me.

When I first caught glimpse of
that jimmy-rigged
thirst trap insta-photo with your
bobble-head
leaning alongside the lowest
base note piano keys
I considered you a casual medium
invoking with the guileless eyes of
the deceased once-was heat of a
surly yet
casual Pop Star

I couldn’t help but notice
that your flame, if you will,
as his flame before you,
was
OUT
Like the last embers
of a campground fire in
Yosemite National Park.

Depleted
Discarded
in a basement somewhere
in the San Fernando Valley
shoveling coal like Cinderella,
You
Never to be allowed near a stringed instrument
Nor a mic.
Nor an amp.
Not even the littlest sister’s
Cowsills Tambourine.

I’m not the only cuddly toy.
I’m not the only choo choo train.
I’m not the only cherry delight.
I’m not the only
I’m not the only

Stage 8 hosts
a gathering
of dem dakota witches
and while they tried to concur,
Rosemary screamed
into her chocolate mouse stupor
“This is no teen dream of 1974!”
“What about the 60s?”
a naked old witch
encircling her bed
inquired tentatively.

You could be absolutely mad
Which would explain
the kooky
flirty-fishing
cultish
eyeball thing
but what’s the success rate
after all this
photography,
I reckon?
Who would take the bait, anyhow?
“You’d be surprised,” sneers another witch.
“Shaddup” snaps Castevets
Fozzie Bear just told you to **** his diseased ****.
Roman stands behind him
holding his own,
limp,
between clammy hands,
hopeful and
biding his time.

!

Funny it should be
Me
who would be the
One
to make
You
feel
Sad.

“I think the terms are about to change, ” screeches another witch,
this one standing by
the yellow curtained
shuttered window,
Which holds within its folds
the electric air-conditioning unit
Whirring
Like Mary, Mother of God.
Or a corpulent and rotund
Laughing Gelatinous
Belly of Buddha

So, it would appear,
that in just one year’s time
or perhaps just a couple of months
Trapped in your household
With audio and visual stimulation
of all
permutations
keyboards
delivery services
and real-time isolation
Within an mise-en-abysme of
traps upon traps upon traps,
thirsting,
that you’ve become perhaps madder still.
Mercury in the lining of the top-hat mad.
“And who hasn’t?” asks that naked witch again.
I’d add that you’ve put on a few.,
Which a lot of people have done lately,
No judgement
But I doubt you are baking a lot of bread
And you look a lot older than you should.

So I wonder,
how do you get to that
vibratory chi
when you’re walled off like this?
Once you get to the real stuff
you’ll look
so much better.
This quandary engages me enough
to indulge in a whirligig
which can incorporate, if I want it to,
Courbet’s L’Origin du monde,
the envy-soaked diamantine stares of a *****
yet perpetually ignored roadie,
Vampires
And street-level prostitution.
It’s a crisis!

I would have thought that you could just
Draw it all straight to you
Without actual flesh
Bring it through the stucco’d walls
Or down from the ceiling,
quickly and upon demand.
Sub-molecularly.
No traffic and clean air make haste.
But no.
That’s not working right now is it?
Magician Reversed.

The darkness of oxblood naugahyde booths barely steeped
in feeble candle light
Cocktails upon cocktails and cigarettes until we realize,
my companion and I,
That we have been completely blocked in
No chance of escape
Not even to ***
So we’re basically sliding out to nowhere.

In time the tabletop becomes covered
with the rings of dripping condensation
from Guinness cans.
Wet ring upon ring sparkle and
At times aluminum is slammed down upon the table,
And not at all casually.
You see, we were being marked
as theirs
A mighty squadron of faux suede heads
blocking access so
that no **** Yank may approach

(and this is Hollywood)
They might as well have hung a Union Jack)

These two birds
We were territories to be given
To Her Majesty.
I’m Hope and She’s Glory.
Or is it.....

They keep announcing to us that
“Diana is dead.”
And we keeping replying “yes, we know,
the tv is on,” pointing behind us.

Earlier that night
we sat on the floor
At the coffee table
Snorting narrow lines of *******
with CNN on in the background
They announce twice as we lean back and wipe our nostrils that
Diana, Princess of Wales
has been in a motor crash
and has broken her wrist.

Well that *****.
A broken wrist in Paris.
We returned our focus back
to the coffee table
and the announcer comes back
this time with a completely different tone
Sombre
Really sombre
He states
Diana, Princess of Wales
Is Dead.

Dead?
We announced to each other
with jinx simultaneity and incredulity.
It was just her wrist?

Once at the bar we made cracks
About off-shore bank accounts
receiving wire transfers from the Queen.

That previous summer in the first food aisle of
Rock and Roll Ralph’s
I turned towards the sunlight and
saw her image on an American tabloid
Displayed in the point of sale racks
At checkout
There were two rather fuzzy photos
Shining golden hair on a turned feminine head
A blue maillot
A diving board off a yacht
Arms wrapped in the Sea
And I thought softly to myself
“Oh no.”
But I can’t even tell you why.

Out of the edge
The very corner of my eye
In the free-standing vitrine
Assembled under plexi
with various small pieces
all 1800s
In what at that time was
a richly coral walled gallery
Deliberately
A small marble bust
Yes I’m calling you out
Although I don’t know your accession number
and you’re no longer on view
Nor will be
any time soon
for that matter
You took advantage
You waited until my very last
moment’s attention
and as I turned my head away
a quick trick
the head turns
A flash of movement
Or movement is how I understood it
Because that’s what my brain
told me it was
You know that I saw this
of course
since you did it on purpose

At the time I told you to cut that **** out
NOT FUNNY
Or words to that effect

I thought that that’s
how you must handle such things
And I still do
It’s childish

Yet it only comes to mind now
That you must have done this countless times
To so many
The contexts endless
Though it must get old
But you
are old

It would be nice to know when it started
And why
this parlor trick
For I’d never felt watched or scrutinized
or judged

by objects on display
which is what you are
Particularly in this gallery

you went straight to
“provocation”

Perhaps you meant
“help me”
but I doubt it

One imagines that anything would eventually get sick
Of being looked at
Heads leaning in for a closer
examination
You’re such a
little thing
which may be part of the problem
It could feel like a curse
to forever be a
lapis lazuli ormolu encrusted vessel
for the rest of eternity
It never occurred to me.
I never thought what must it be like?

Trivialized to surfaces.
Put on the shelf.
To fall out of history.
I should have understood more quickly
of course

I remember hearing
that an old drawing done of myself
had been on view in a gallery
without my knowing
without anyone bothering to mention it besides a vague
throwaway
aside
made well after the fact
like a tossed cigarette ground into the sidewalk
outside a dull party

I don’t remember the image
but some part of me was hanging on some wall nonetheless.
Had it done anything untoward
to some poor **** walking past?
An alchemical interruption?
I certainly hope so.
Confound dominion.
Assail the event horizon of metaphysical politesse and proprieties.
Defy a petty corporeal quarantine of sorts.

To throw off this mantle
if for just one split second.

Two and a half weeks into this quarantine
Rainy days and
no poems
No words forthcoming
All quiet
I decide that perhaps
if I just put one
Word
In front of another
And keep on for a time
Words upon words
something will come?

At 8:30 every morning
A man passes
walking a Pomeranian mix
A joyful little dog
(I’d steal him in a heartbeat)
They walk
He twirling the leash round and round
The dog leaping higher and higher still.
They dance together eyes meeting
and smile as I know a dog can
and I remember
how I would dance with my last greyhound.
We would tango and box-step.
I always led.

These days the little
Pomeranian can’t get his attention
anymore
The leash doesn’t twirl above its head
He’s pulled along impatiently
There are no more smiles
Their eyes won’t meet
He’s slow to realize that he’s become a drudgery
I want to yell out the window
I see you
EVERY MORNING AROUND 8:30!
Where’s your joy gone buddy?
Don’t you know that’s all you’ve got?
You’re bumming me out for real
and your dog loves you!
Wake up! You fool wake up!

I think that now I’ll walk to Ralph’s
I have various thoughts while doing so
Children race their bikes passed me
as if they’re in an entirely other reality
altogether
and
maybe they are.
The wind blows through their hair
effortlessly
As if it couldn’t mine.

Front lawns offer up fields of dandelions
as if their orbs the most prized bounty
Freshly mown grass smells new and clean instead of putrid, rotting in the sunshine
The fulsome wafts of springtime’s
jasmine and osmanthus heaving with citrus and pepper evade me as I pass their blossoms
Yet on the rare occasion a fragrant rose pierces through the weft and hits a nostril
but I can’t tell which bloom.

The smooth talking
homeless girl
has finally covered up that
diabetic open sore on her left ankle
the size of a flattened crimson football
which is something,
although I can see that
she’s being told to move along as
she just can’t sit anywhere she pleases.

I’m counting every time I see the word “dead” along my way.

In the store the ladies that buy
their bottles of white wine in the afternoon
are starting earlier now
with supplies and deliveries
unsure
It’s one thirty and I see
Two bottles of Clos du Bois
And four Domaine St. Michelles
in the cart to my right
and nothing else
as they do.
I’m not going to ask her
about her dinner party.

While I stare at packages of coffee
A man pulls off his mask to sneeze into the air before him
And I say to the older man approaching
I don’t think that you’ll be going any farther
in that direction.
It was under my breath.
He didn’t hear me.
I have a mask on.
He turned his cart around and walked back
the way he came.

I have this urge to talk to everyone.
I have this relentless desire for ice cream.
I miss everything.
Nothing here
will satisfy anything
to do with me.
Can one survive a global catastrophe
with candy and magical thinking?

Older people
And by that
I mean really old people
Eye me suspiciously
Almost fearful
As if I myself alone
embody
the menacing contagion
and I guess I could.
Perhaps I do.
It’s hard to read emotions with these masks
But their eyes seem terribly unkind and
brows, furrowed
One stares at me hard
with beady anger and a ready insult
another will jump me in the checkout line
and with great solicitude
unwrap her money from
the white notebook paper
pulled from the manila envelope
Now re-folded with
rubber bands and string
And placed back
into her chest
She is so sweet to the cashier
with her black acrylic wig askew
that he seems quite shocked to hear
she cut in front of
fifteen people
without so much as a word.
Who cares really?

My first mask made me sneeze for four hours straight and made my nose burn like a hit of **** *******.
I’ve been handed a free mask by
a representative
from my local assemblyman
made of a softer material
I find that
it won’t stay up and fogs the base of my glasses.
I don’t think it’s working.
It reads
We’re All In This Together.

I still can’t breathe.

The doomed asthmatic
selling his single ciggies on the sidewalk
dies on Staten Island
from a policeman’s chokehold.
Eric Garner
In those desperate last moments
of
his
2014
despite his pleas and confusion
surely there before him appeared
although not quite the end that he’d envisioned or feared
what with steroid inhalers from the pharmacy
a crystalline moment
when he knew without a doubt that
he’d never take another gasp of air
like a bloated goldfish on its side
expressionless and saucer eyed
outside its bowl
What happened to his mind then?
What will happen to mine?

It has been said that
certain tribal kings
have brought before them
after battle
their most worthy enemy
in the process of imminent death
while they sit in numinous splendor
and wait for that perfect moment
to lean in close to the mouth
and inspire greedily
the purest
most sublime
expiration of their life force,
now a pristine delicacy of the infinite,
for themselves alone.

Schoolhouse Rap: Boyfriend Killaz Edition

Jody Arias!
Jody Arias!

Let’s not forget
what you’ve done to us
When you find the ****
That is the most to ya
Don’t try to play
It’s just today for ya
Cuz she may have
Another way
in store for ya
whether she comes through
the front door
Or that doggie’s little door for ya
You’re gonna have to make some
extra room for Ma

Said she’s not your shorty no more
T.
No more P.
said our Miss Jody

You ****** the wrong chick.

Jody!
I said
Jody Arias!
Her love life was so precarious
Her lover so nefarious
Treating her like a *****
little piece of ***
The result of which was not so hilarious
Salacious? She?
Predacious? He?
Predacious? She?
Salacious? He?
Who’s to say?
Really.

Said she’s not your shorty no more
T.
No more, T.
said our Miss Jody

You ****** the wrong chick.

He thought he’d get his perfect first wife
And start that brand new life.
Jody?
Can you hear me?

O Travis
my dear dear Travis
They did try to ******’ warn your ***
Her hands more nimble than Thelonious
Your end more wretched than felonious
This hookup
for you
rather deleterious
Looks like she took your picture laying near the glass

Said she’s not your shorty no more
T.
No more P.
said our Miss Jody

YOU ****** THE WRONG CHICK

One day I saw Liza Minnelli
on the television
And she said, pointing down at a
Young women's feet
"I know precisely the day when you will no
longer be able to wear those heels!"
I thought
**** you Liza Minnelli!
Shut your mouth!
That is truly unspeakable
Cruel
And it does not concern me.

Sadly,
In less time than I would have liked
My beautiful
Coal black brushed sued
Miu Miu Booties
with a golden zip up the back
And the most fantastic heel
(That line!)
Hurt me beyond
anything I knew
a shoe could do to a person
I started taking ibuprofen
before I slid them on
But I knew
Liza is right.
It's over.

It came for me young like menopause.

Women a decade older
are running all over the place
in their stilettos.
Their four inches.
It's more than I can bear
to look at the images anymore.
Because shoe envy is real.
And so is the grief.

Shoes I have known....

I still think with a heavy heart about those
gorgeous Cesare Paciotti t-straps
Some of my last
although
I didn't know that at the time
It's better not to think
But the memories return
These had an amazing heel as well.
Chunky Italian rather than a delicious subtle
swag.

I seek solace in wedges and kitten heels.

O Liza Minnelli!
That evil forewarning.
Does Disney
have a witch that does this sort of thing
because they should.

The craggy finger extends from the cloak
and points down at
the innocent girl's
barking dogs
encased in an excruciating
yet stunning pair.
No apple.

"When the Sun has returned 57? No.
39 times around the Earth, no beautiful shoe
with a perfect heel and toe-box
will you ever wear again.
The pain will be so great that you will beg to take
them off if you are fool enough to put them on."

That's a strange curse my friend.
What kind of unfulfilled bargain prompted that?
Liza Minnelli!

I'm sure that they've seen this
a million times.
At Saks, Neiman's or Bergdorf's
It's probably boring.
"Oh that again."
The shoe goes back into its box.
No point in bringing out the other.
I'm so very sorry madame
There isn't another size
Have you considered a slipper?

I, myself have considered a fete
where all my old broads
get those heels on
regardless of the ability to walk
Bring the crutches
Or the wheelchair
And pose to the gods
There would be serious pain,
even tears.
But I'm fine with ******.
Seriously.

Instagram parties documenting the old hens
under sedation
or knocked out for the photo session
with those insane heels on.
It could happen.
May have already.

Liza?
Did those red sequins
on your mother's feet
bring into being something not human?
All I know is that it's over for me
and I'm largely innocent.
I will admit to
Jealousy and Envy
but I am not at all bitter
and this does possess cinematic potential
Grimm theatricality
(Grand Guignol used to be
so popular so throw that in)
A Perverse Maytagged Cinderella minus a Prince
It's everything showbiz.
It's entirely fitting.

I wonder if there is any consolation
in having an afterlife of any sort.

Will I wind up waiting for my enter lifetime
to end
Just to get there
Looking for a spray or a flash
A carbonic tip of your hat
That Redsox baseball cap
or the newsboy
Will I sense a vibrational intonation
that could pass for a wry yet incomprehensible
Hey Half-Pint!
or
See Ya Li'l Bit!
Just to watch you fly away from me
with all the words still in my mouth?

Will I stand there or vibrate in wave patterns
as I don't know what one does,
having waited so long
having been so patient
that that distinctively
Hello/Goodbye
You're On Your Own moment
Although shocking
would feel sadly familiar
You a Depression era baby
and I am not
Will I watch you explode into nothingness and
know that mother isn't even with you?

I don't think that I understand the ways
of
Loss.

I revisit that night and
I don't know why
I don't know why it took so long for you
to get there for one thing
I parked
Which took some time
But I found a spot
I won't be towed
And I walked to the hotel entrance
and waited
far too long
I took out a cigarette
And I bet I smoked the whole thing.

You never showed up which was strange.
Did I start to smoke another?
I thought that I was being polite
waiting on the curbside
Eventually R. and his girlfriend showed up
Super late
But polite which was no longer something to
expect from anyone anymore I found

They collected me and we went up to the
Penthouse
And there you were
Did you race like a daemon
breaking those presumptuous,
Certainly useless
Laws pertaining to Physics
just to get up Fairfax Avenue?
You ran to get to a party
that you were only invited to
because of me?
Without me.
This is not normal is it?

Your excuse upon my arrival was ******.
Idiotic.
I walked away.

On the balcony
I stood with you and R. again
We had avoided one another
throughout the night
yet always collided back
like opposing atoms.
Was that my doing?
I really think that that one was
your trick.

One of you had a joint
And I thought to myself
O *******
Thank God
It went around once
maybe twice
And then became a two-step
Without me
(Again!)
Back and forth between you two.

I was
standing there quietly waiting
like it was a game of jump rope
Watching for the moment
when the rope would let me in
My turn would come up eventually cuz
I'm standing right here.

I think one of you
R. probably
Handed me the joint
now dead
A stiff speck of rolling paper stuck between
*******
And the two of you
turned and walked away from me
Without a care
Brothers-in-arms

Well this isn't that sort of party.
Boots on the ground.
Blood in the sand.
Pack on your back.
Gun raised.
The stench of iron and salty offal.
Heroes in The Battle of Normandy.
I am not an Axis soldier and i know that you are not Allies

This Chateau is modeled after one
in the Loire
so the legend has it.
And this is a totally different thing altogether.

Wasn't your father, a fireman and you, his firestarter?
Didn't you watch him
put out your flames on the local tv news
while you lay on the carpet chin in hands, full color?

Did I follow you both back inside?
I think that I didn't
I hope that I didn't
How do you follow that?
I know that I walked to the balcony's edge
And settled into watching the rings to my right
The smoke rings from the cigarette
of the Marlboro Man
perching above Sunset Blvd.
what have I done?
how has it come to this so fast?

I may have joined in
Blowing rings from up above
I made O's very well in those days
One after another
One inside another
The billboard too
We're strange amigos we
Our rings float away unfurling
into thinner mists
While the white and red lights of cars
down below us
Rush into the sparkling night air
East
West
Somewhere other than here
My circles disappear above my head
His circles too.

Did he seem to you like a happy cowboy?
Rugged and determined
Those unsentimental eyes
Narrowing fearlessly at a blank manifest destiny
O
O
O
O
It's endless but I can keep up.

Looking at him from were I stand
I know that I will need
some of what he's got
to get through this
situation.
I thought that I had it on me.
I thought that I had packed it.
But somehow it's taken its leave or
Gone Missing.

He's not even real
This eminence to my right
Just wood and paper and
a mechanism making steam look like a plume of carcinogens
O
O
O
O
Yet I look at him a bit jealously regardless
Funny to feel that way about a billboard
Maybe cuz he's kind of a man
Maybe it's his hat
But it's true nevertheless
His rough hew cardboard evokes

the self determination at all costs
here above Sunset.

I will leave this penthouse
with its sick yellowy light
Dash into the elevator again
Make my escape
Light another and
Blow those rings.
Messaging
Mayday
Signaling my location
Above ground Terra Firma
Not underwater in depths that
cannot support life
R.'s been dead now almost twenty years
By his own hand.

Tomorrow I will try again
I hinted to myself
barely believing
I still have my lighter and what cigarettes are left in the pack.