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.

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!

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.

‘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

‪ ‪”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.”

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

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

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.

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

Toothless and Useless
Were not the only ones
There was also Ruthless
But we call her Ruth

Toothless and Useless
Happen to be very old
Toothless a bit ornery
And Useless
Well one understands
That she never was what one would call
Helpful

One can never know when they are born
Or even on the block
face to face
What deal you have struck to be sure
Only time will tell
And some sweetening if one must

Toothless has been with us forever it seems
She is obstinate and mercurial
She doesn’t care what you say
She cannot be persuaded
Not even with a slap
I have asked that she be sold
But they say that I am unkind and did not know her in her younger fetching days

Fetching? Look at her.
Her lips fold in upon themselves
Her skin slack and oily
Her eyes yellow
We had spectacles made for her
For what reason I do not know
What I do know is that she cannot hurt me

When I was young she had a reputation for snapping at the children
Even an adult or two
A shriek would fly out of a linen cupboard or behind a bedroom door.
She would wipe her lips after the bite

We didn’t remove her teeth
They fell out on their own
But it didn’t seem to stop her
Not with a whip or after sitting in the dark, cold hole
She is ours until she dies

Useless is as ancient as the earth under her crooked feet
She cannot sew
Nor cook
Nor clean
Nor breed
Again I ask
For an explanation
But I know we cannot sell her
She is as part of us
Like blood and bones

If it were up to me they would both be dead and gone
But Ruth has an eye on me
She stands in the kitchen in quiet innocence
She throws about seeds with a serene smile
She knows that I will alas do nothing
But attempt to avoid a bite or ask a question to a curious face that has no answer.
They are safe and I am off to Boston.

i'm reporting to you here
From the women's bathroom stall at
(nam withheld) solo show
At the (name withheld) Gallery
Located on (name withheld) Blvd.

I have to say
that it comes as some relief to be sitting here
with my little plastic cup of sour wine
resting comfortably
on the cold tiled floor
I sit upon the plastic, seat cover down
the door closed and latched shut
What with my notes and my phone
and my purse over-full
Everything in here is the color of a rotting
peach, hard stone exposed
And I wonder what the color is
in the men's bathroom?
A bruised purplish tomato?
A dull pinky brownish mayonnaise?

It is very crowded out there
Way too many people
I came to see paintings painlessly
and I can't see a thing
but I can jostle with the best
except that I'm completely exhausted.

I know it sounds naive, sure
that I don't mind saying "Hi!" and
"Hey!"
without the whitest of smiles
But then what do you say after?
No worries.
I am charming.
I will do
all the work
I will make you laugh
Tantalize you with my wit
My Enthusiasm or Disdain.

I'll try to come back again
when this space is empty
perhaps commiserate leaning in at the counter
If I feel so inclined
Gage my conspiratorial tones
by the eyes that face me
Grim?
Resigned?
Expertly Professional?
and
it may in fact be quite lovely then
Now airy, the galleries.
Or it ill be a quick and disappointing
walkabout and out
I may not even need to say "Thank You."
because no one cares.

For now I will practice my breathing
And think about dead third generation
Abstract Expressionists like
Norman Bluhm
or Joan, my one true love

I'm pretty sure that on the floors out there
I've splashed my wine about
which will prove to be rather
unfortunate
for someone
who skids in kitten heeels.

Did I mention that Blankety Blank came with
yet another brand new spouse?
Bold as day.
She seems like all the others very nice
A mid-tone wheat-y blonde
Petite
So far her ready smile is a solid
and her interested gaze noteworthy
Too shy to wear the engrossed face
Her mouth is primly closed.
She seems polished and stands rather well
despite no one talking to her
after the Introductory Handshake
Her power may grow with time
what with that ring on her left finger.

I thought that the husband was still in jail
to be honest
or had fled to Barbados
to sell the same rolled oil on canvas
over and over
to different buyers and still keep the scratch
And the canvas
rolled, wrapped, and neatly stored
The artist seems to be fine with it
although she will never be paid.

Out there beyond this door
Stand
I can't get a proper count
because it's five people deep
and their backs are to the walls
I watched someone walk passed
something rather beautiful
although they didn't notice.

I for one nearly had my right eye
knocked out by a shock of
titanium white
that was totally
uncalled for.
It's on the eastern wall and a
scene stealer no doubt
Probably already sold
Probably hung already sold
and it's gonna make the cover of
everything.

Personally I'd like to take a knife
and slice it full across
remove the white offense
leaving it crumbled in a mass on the floor
Now a loser's cape bright enough to be seen
in darkness and stepped over lightly
like so many others.
Out there.

When I leave this stall
I'm gonna toss this cup and
I'm gonna run
and in so doing
quickly side step
another tangled bundle
I will look intensely to find the hero
instead, confronting as one does
dark filthy textiles
and thread counts
and only in the passing
In my beautiful raiment
A vision I am sure
will my eyes reveal
that the over familiar tangled bundle
the blanket is
no one's cape
but some exoskeletal remains left behind
and its creature, gone.
No ragged head.
No ***** feet.
No professional smile.

81

To Morrissey: I’m not mad

(I saw you
once
strolling up the Venice boardwalk
at sundown
You had the biggest biggest smile
On your face
Which even at that time seemed
Out of character
I had in my hand
What i had come for
The six white athletic socks for 10 dollars pack sold on tables under nylon tarps
And as we both walked up the boardwalk
I thought to myself
What do you have to smile about?)

It is my wish that when you
Revisit this earth again
In your next incarnation
And adventure
That you return not
as an overripe spire of blooms
but as a
Small piece of iceberg lettuce leaf
Too young
too immature
to reach the others alongside you
Your curl a little anemic and so very very delicate.
Just a bitter yellowish bud.

Or you could be the stalk of Iceberg
that’s chopped away
And perfunctorily discarded
pretending to be cabbage in a cole slaw that nobody wants

At the end of the day
The staff may try to hurl you into the dumpster behind the Greek Diner or Chinese
But you won’t make it

You will slip out of the ******* bags
And fall onto the gravel drive
In the spitzing rain.
Growing more
Translucent
Inspected by rats and old hungry pigeons
And maybe a lost snail

And even they will walk away
This won’t be like Wembley at all

As the sun rises the trash men come
But you’re stuck on your back
or twisted on your side
appearing smaller than you are
are overlooked
Bags are tossed into the truck
yet you remain
Waiting

Later that morning
The hose comes out to wash away debris
That would be you
And you reluctantly perhaps
and bit painfully
peel most of yourself away and flow down
the sidewalk with all the leaves
and cigarette butts
and orange peels
To the gutter
And then into the sewer
And then before you’re even aware
The River
Where a fishes’s mouth quickly opens and scoops you in
and just as quickly
Spits you out again
(Your little bits)
To float slowly
Since you’re so light
Transparent
Really ephemeral now!
Your very last traces.

You float down to the bottom
To this other side of the clear blue sky
and dissolve gradually
Not gracefully
into a chilling primordial smear
of muck and sludge.

Here may you find Stillness.
Here may you find Rest.

I watch you **** on long, gnarled fingers
With short, clipped nails
No color.
You pull them out of your mouth
One at a time
with a subtle but emphatic pop
One
Two
Three and
Four
'Round and 'round
Thumbs perhaps, but pinkies never
Other times you juice
the corner or a small white washcloth
with your saliva

I watch you look at the window
Unwavering in your attention
Focused straight ahead,
Your chair is turned
so that e can all sit together
In the common room.

Dad wants to leave
As soon as we've arrived
He'd say something wildly odd
to what
had been
his wife of fifty years, like
'What's up?'
or
'Howryadoin'?'
Something impossibly dumb
As if he would've
ever said such a thing
To you
In Real Life.
Now pandering for some predestined response
Or a cozy yet bewildered
glance of surprise
or perhaps a
vague
familiar
girlish
smile
The one you wore when he first met you.
But we both know that those days are
long gone.

I watch you as you face
The bright Valley sunshine
The yellowing grass
The trimmed hedges
The cement blocks that maintain
these locked-down
Premises.
But what do you see?
Were there any little birds,
As I no longer can remember?

Do the multitudes
that comprise a random cosmos
approximated by optimistic formulae
Although imperceptible to Dad and I,
Dance just for you?
Does it share with you
sweet confidences and miracles?
Promises and Reassurances!
I'd like to think that,
but I have my doubts
Your face
Your eyes
Show no such delight.

There as a time when you were always
delighted
And too, there was a time when you wanted
to escape
with a sly
"So where are we all going next?"

Dad grows more uncomfortable
But its alright
I can sit here by your side
I tell him
45 more minutes
I wear a watch
for just this sort of thing
although he's ready to bolt
This Disease
His Love
A Mystery before him
Despite his Science,
Gone.

Me?
I'm fine
For I have lost nothing.
I look around the common room
The patients are set up
Round like a clock.

At 11pm lay the catatonic
Flat
Staring motionless
faces up
to the ceiling
In recliners. Peaceful.
Accepting.

At 1pm are those who can still sit at a table
with minimal supervision and eat
or read a four color full bleed spread in
a fashion magazine upside down
Just like in the old days.

At 4pm sit the difficult, flighty ones
with aides to feed and wipe their faces
of soggy gruel and fruit pulp
Obstinate
Rude
Incorrigible
And prone to choking.

At 6:30 the piano sits alone against a far wall
Abandoned yet prepared
Not slighted in the least.
Do you believe that angels can swarm?

We three sit together at the 9pm table
your other companions silent
Not playing cards or Sudoku
Nor reminiscing about a forgotten past
By way of some forgotten language
Inevitably, they will disappear
with no explanation
never returning
And the new ones will take their places
days later
Silent still
Always silent
In our little
Corner.

The clock, it moves like fateful musical chairs.
It has an intelligence
It is a system of management.
The designations, a terrible prognosis
encircling like a snake
towards your final hour
Which may be after 4 or perhaps 11?
This is a Map of Demise.

What turned you into a 9pm
because your weren't always?
We arrived at this table from some place else
Although from where I'm not at all sure anymore
It seems they moved you around a lot
And I have been watching you closely.
I fear that the hour hand
is not your ally.
The minutes hand, neither.
I look out the window with you.
And I wonder when the time will come
For you to rest in the white naugahyde recliners
Motionless and
Unbothered.
Accepting.
But I do not expect you
to make it past
this hour.
Would someone tell me please
what does it really mean to be
a 9pm on this clock?

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 do not think that I can make
my eyes look the way that I used to
No matter what I do
A simple smoky eye means that I am unhappy
I show
The red cape
The stilettos
The cropped trousers
Those wonderful aviators
I thank god each day for my cheekbones and yet still they talk

To be quite honest, I feel nothing
I don’t know why exactly

Those ladies walking the through Bergdorfs silently crying
Those tissues stuffed into Chanel purses
I never would be one of those
They are excessive and boring
So here I am
Alone
I do not understand this country
But I must admit that I have been so very lucky
Do you know how good I look in white?
Not everyone can but I do

When we are with the Europeans
it is I who they want to see
My dresses
My shoulders
My beautiful table settings
They understand me
Not him

You should see the gown that came today
The fabric
The stitching
The detail
You would not believe it
To be honest, really, I am a queen
Sometimes even I cannot believe it

I do wish sometimes
that he would have a little something
Like an accident you know?
Maybe quickly, perhaps slowly
I don’t know
I have to protect my son

I go to the kitchen and think sometimes
when I’m with our chef
I wonder?
Could I?
Do I have the strength?
What would I wear afterwards?

He will die soon and then I will be free.
So today I can smile and wait.
Everything will be fine.
Our chef is French and he understands me.
My intentions.

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.

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.

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

Hello? (Hands waving to no one)
Hey!
I’m back!
I got a little delayed (pointing at my watch that I don’t wear)
I know it’s been awhile
I got here as fast as I could
There was no one at the airport

Hello?
It’s me!
You would not believe what happened!
I mean really!
Have I got a tale to tell!


Hello!
Hi everybody!
Hello?
I just got back. I gotta lay down.

So what’s everybody doing?

A capsule for depression
A tablet for anxiety
Driving to the pharmacy
I pass where we had our last meal?
No this was the next to last.
The restaurant is gone as usual
You nearly slipped
As we eased you back into the car
But I had you
And so did the valet
You were never going to fall
Although there was panic in your eyes
And a bit of spoilt anger

That last dinner
On the seashore
The swirling lights on the beach
I have no appetite
Again
And you look at me strangely
A doctor still
I delight in your holding the wine glass like a two-handled sippy cup
I sat and stared at the colors flashing far off in the distance
Swirling round and round
Blue and then yellow and red
I wasn’t present
I knew what was coming
You’re moving ever slower
Your pain is immense
You lay your head down on the kitchen table but never groan
The Navy taught you that well
But it doesn’t help me
I hear you practicing your leg drills
To keep your muscles working
Thump
thump
thump upon the kitchen floor
But this time
A prolonged silence of defeat,
Or hopelessness
Or acceptance
You stopped after four or five
And I never heard those sounds again
Because what was the point really
It’s over

One morning behind you
walking slowly through the dining room
I see our reflection in the mirror
I think
It’s time
It’s time for you to go

This is indeed our last meal.
And I could not eat.

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

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

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?

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

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

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’

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

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.

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.

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

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.

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

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.’

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

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

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!

‘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.’

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

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?

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

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