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.

‘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.’

A movie star died a day or two ago
She was 97.
She would to say hello to my mother
At evening musicals full of teenaged boys
that I lusted after years ago
She would wave and smile with sparkling eyes
I’d look at mother
“Why?”
Amused, she would say softly
“I don’t know!”
We would giggle together
A rare event

Mother was no chorine
nor wardrobe mistress
She did not peak in the 50s
She did not dance with her husband
under the moon at the Bel Air Bay Club
Her daughter did not write a pop song that oddly charted
She did not struggle to remain in the public’s imagination
They had nothing in common but perhaps a lovely face and a skill at survival
Mom could make her husband move her closer to Johnny on the dance floor.
Whichever direction, Dad obliged.

They locked down that school today
Warned by a rifle in a photo
Of an unstable football pro

These women are dead now
so none’s the wiser
“When you’re a victim of bullying, an option is revenge." said the alumna.
“Just a precaution,” replied the school.

Mother would have been 97 this year as well.
Maybe they’ve met again,
two streaks of illuminated emptiness
Engaging with reservations
Over fitting in and going insane
Over the low self-regard in a champion
or
Being lost at sea.

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!

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

Remember when this used to be a bodega where you could by an egg a few cigarettes and some *******?
I only bought **** there
a couple of times
I really went in there for milk or coffee
or an Entenmann’s raspberry danish in the big long rectangle.
I don’t remember the brand I smoked then
but they didn’t sell them.

The guy next door in my building had a thing for rich girls with flash cars
who would buy him clothes and other such presents
He was from the OC
and what he was doing in Brooklyn
I don’t even know
He got involved with some local
Columbians
Through the corner bodega
And of course proceeded
to date one of their women.
The OC Romeo.
Lady Lover.
Irresistible.
Pink Lacrosse shirt.
Turned up collar.
Leisure slacks.

I had to tell him once to not slap his thigh at me
When I passed him
on that corner
Posing with his newfound buddies.
And to give me back my cassette.
He tells me he left it out on the window sill
And it rained and got wet.
I said give it back anyway.

Not too long after he was gone.
Both he and his yuppie roommate
I heard he moved back to Newport Beach.
I wondered why he ran
Cuz I know he ran
Fast
I had some crazy neighbors in Hollywood
who disappeared
into the Russian night.
Someone spotted them a year later.
Playing with the wrong people.
Taking liberties.
Conning a con.
Your life really is not worth
very much
in those circles
so you’d better be quick on your feet.

It was like camp
But I spent the first night
On a thin plastic mattress with ****** sheets freezing
Instead of encircling a campfire
Singing cowboy songs of the West
And little dogs

My first activity was not making a bow and arrow or a target but instead I was
sitting after breakfast
on a concrete bench
in the Sun
Trying to fill myself with that allusive happiness.
That was my plan.

On the next occasion in the open
I did not get a compass
nor a map
but I sat with a table of girls
And spoke up without being asked
They started to show off their pale pinkish arms
I was at the cutters’ table
Smoker’s edition
Layers upon layers of
Rippling Scar tissue
at the elbows in particular
It is thick.
Bleeding and healing
To be sliced open again
For crusting over.
They were cheerful
Despite hallucinations and panic attacks,
Lost children or tomorrow
Scuttling along a murky seabed that did not want them but
Here’s a cigarette

I did not make a sundial or find my canoe
Or make shoes out of leaves
but let the morning sun stick around
while the smoke issuing from their chatty mouths pinched my nose
I would take their smoking breaks with them.
I claimed two for myself and once lit,
slyly handed them over
As I listened to the chatter and laughed
I feel a faint yellow heat
From up over there.

We didn’t at first hover around each other
Talking about nothing like high school
Girls with braces and dorky pajamas
Or bend over from the top bunk to say
one more thing before lights out
At first I never added more than a informed observation about lipgloss or
a roll over the eyes over the next dumbbell talking about nothing that existed
But I was tolerated
And as their numbers diminished
only to be refreshed again
my comfort grew
I made “friends”
We laughed and co-conspired
Over pills, soda and what’s that on your tray?

There were movies on the tv
But no westerns
With horses trekking through the tall grasses
Nor
Smoke arising in the distance
Imitating a life that we were imitating as well
Yes we were!
Just a slightly different tale about
Endless treks and wandering

On the weekends
The rules relaxed and the counselors,
Had there been any,
Would have been preoccupied with private intrigues and how to make pineapple cocktails
And we, left to our own devises,
Would saunter in and around each other
Braiding hair and reading magazines.

There was a telephone.

When it was time to get into the car to go back home by way of the freeway
I didn’t have a hat that I had painted myself with only three colors
Nor feathers
or a blue ribbon for starting fires
We all said our good-byes
Even the mean one called me by my name
And we shot off like the explosive plumes of fireworks
into a dimming sky.

Crinoline filaments
Rolling over and over
Mid-flight the ochre velvet ribbons sailed to the left
Instead of to the right
Two feet retreating
But with one shoe on

Memory returns
For a few seconds of
the calamity
At that private house in Paris
She’d tumbled down the central staircase
Sailing with legs overhead
until she stopped miraculously with her ***
at the shining leather toes of the footman.
He kept his head up.
She wore a beautiful dress.
Her hair was quite precise and she hoped that that would be a sufficient enough apology towards an empty silence.

But this isn’t that.
I shoved her.
And she went willingly. They all do.
We’re roughly a group of fifty-three.

Gathering in the last few years
Whispering over drinks
of tumors
And vascular difficulties
Of pills and appointments and forgetfulness
They never mentioned that
In those climate controlled rooms with
Blackboards covered in Latin and Trigonometry
Of the body’s failure.
Now there’s no longer any mention made of the kids
or whether or not that husband was worth the bother

Did we notice atop
The balance beam not a peep was mentioned
About the moment when you can no longer walk or stand?
That the brain asks please but the body will not comply?
How cool the marbled floor feels against your cheek while you lay for hours in your own feces?
One can rest comfortably knowing at long last that that wallpaper was the right choice.
Kept one really engaged while waiting and waiting for someone.
And that is just the beginning, right?

Perhaps some assumed that the end would come with a daily circle reviewing the contents of their chamber ***
Grimacing and worn
While they recline in white nightclothes
Something akin to what they saw on the BBC

Perhaps a startled disquiet at the rebuke of their intent and gamely stares from a premiere specialist in Switzerland
an expert in alternative therapies
for what someone dared call
terminal
Anyway, this is quicker.

So we’ve come together
As sisters
And when the time is right I get the call
We go onto the roof
There’s an elevator now because
Otherwise that wouldn’t work
And one by one
In small batches
They are dispatched
It doesn’t take as long as you would think
We are confident and have agency
We were taught that we could do anything
And they are right.

The ones with a lot of metal can be a bit tricky
They have balance issues
But are always chic and always polite
There was a time when we were forced to be together when we clearly did not want to.
We never thought as one.
Some families are better than others.
But everything is different now

One day it will be my turn and
I wonder who will deliver me?
And what shall I wear?
Will I try to see where I’m going or will I rest comfortably in my finale.

I adore the way the wind catches the cloth.
How the crystalline beads are removed around the neck and handed over
so as not to add to any distraction
Or delay
The pinky coral mouthed “Thank you” and
And the sweet eyes that once were bright and shining say their
Goodbyes
Rippling
twirling
looping
interweaving
cascading
Down.

There is such a thing
as
the Hollywood Blonde
They all seem to know one another
Each one thinks that
They
Alone
are the most sublime
The most inspirational
The Musiest

Like Water Nymphs
They form their group instinctively
The Hollywood Blonde
And if you are a Brunette, say
Or Chinese
I know one and she has the most magnificent *******
Nevertheless
Irregardless
the facts
The husband and the house
The hotels and private jets
Know
Know that those Hollywood Blondes will do a lot of stuff
Without you dear one
“Sorry” they will shrug
They swim
And dine
And gather together
Luminously
And will let you know
after The Fact
Even movies
Or just returning phone calls

Why do they form the horde?
Perhaps they really are genetically special.
Why do they pride themselves in their isolation?
A mystery still.
Courtesan?
Geisha?
Cheerleader?
Mystery Side-Piece?
Wife?
Ex-wife?
Widow?
Oh yes.
Is it an unknowable path that they are on?
A hero’s quest in a bottle of peroxide?
Applied every three weeks.
I’d like to think so.
I wish that they would share what they know.

But we already know.
A mind is not necessary
although helpful
Chic? No. You can wear anything.
A steady, warrantied beauty?
No
No just hair
the color of wheat
Or a corn tortilla
It’s never spun gold
No matter
What you’ve read.

36
18
33
Are Barbie’s measurements
Can you imagine the pressure.
When the lines appear and it’s over?

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

For the first time
I dislike the days growing longer
I wait impatiently for darkness
To descend upon me
In the soft sweet night
Now I wait
I look out the window
But it’s not here yet
Where is it? Why must I wait?
This is taking forever
I’m impatient and cross
I’ve had enough of
This light

SO much depends upon a red wheel barrow
So MUCH depends upon a red wheelbarrow
So much DEPENDS upon a red wheelbarrow
So much depends UPON a red wheelbarrow
So much depends upon A red wheelbarrow
So much depends upon a RED wheel barrow
So much depends upon a red WHEEL barrow
So much depends upon a red wheel BARROW

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.

I’d have liked to have heard
those tinkling bells
through the ether
while at the kitchen sink
behind me
from another room
As I have before

I wish that you would haunt me,
That I would see the motion of a darkened blur
out of the corner of my eye
Or hear your feet upon the hallway floor boards

I remember when as of late
I would pass by and you’d reach out
to stretch or say don’t go
I’d hold your hand and say
I’m coming right back

Now I look at my bed to find you
I touch the blankets and the other tumbled bedclothes
Here and Here
But you’re gone
Just sleek emptiness

I remember this well from before
Of standing in dark closets
breathing in and out
stale papers and linen over-crisp
the scent of solitude and
Memory
Of what never happened and never will.

Where are you?
I would cry how is there no trace left?
No butterfly a-lights or pennies appear on sidewalks that I roam
No hummingbird flitters before me to dash away
No breeze rustles through
the palm tree fronds
as if to say
hello, I am here always

You’re not in the bathroom or in a chair
I can’t hear you cry for me in the dark
Or touch my face at two a.m.
I hope that you still love me
I hope I never hurt you and that’s why you’re
Gone.

Tell me about the Ace of Wands!
Tell me about the Ace of Wands!

This has been poorly imagined I admit:
The sunny penthouse
Open to the breeze
which presses and sways
through the sliding glass doors

Upturned champagne bottles
set in buckets of melting ice
A crystalline view of the Pacific
Or dusky Vegas lights

Strewn silken sheets
A **** carpet you can grab on to
The myriad of variations under a rising Moon

Yet Leather and Ecstasy are no where to be seen.
And though I wasn’t thinking of Sardinia
or of the Amalfi
That is a great idea

ROMP
noun
1. a spell of rough, energetic play.
2. a farce.

Eventually
(An earth-sign cusp is slow no matter how much air)
Eventually
creeping into my mind’s eye
(Thank you Time)
was my dodging of the slow-moving bullet
Alas, the lumpy bed in Hollywood awaits
with serviceable sheets
Encased in variations on a theme of
brown everything
A soul death in faux wood paneling
Someone else’s earring on a
grubby carpet floor
that offers you
burns for your back that won’t heal so fast
if that’s what you want
There’s the opening of the door
on the purring refrigerator
to look at cold nothing
And think nothing
Cystitis is on its way
And yes,
Too much dust

Don’t get me wrong
I have no real issues with dust
I have stood
Alone in the semi darkness before
In such a living room
Staring at this luminous particulate
On album covers
and in the glare of backlit windows
Floating in a beam from
a ceramic thrift store table-lamp

I was on my way to find the bathroom
Where a pair of pink ******* lay
drying
in wait for
me

Bachelor dust
Is old
I can write my name with my finger
in that which rests
upon the turntable’s hinged cover
In case you don’t remember
What they call me

As I’ve said
I’ve got nothing against it
Ask the dust
Go ahead
Ask it
Resting quite comfortably
on the bookshelves
If there are bookshelves
As if it had
something to do.
I ask it why?

my invading molecules subdivide
and grow more comfortable

Dust?
Why do I smell the stench of
chaste virgins and ***?
The intoxicating odor of foxed letters from an epistolary exchange regarding:
One Fair Maiden and the Devilish Pursuits to  Compromise Her Virtue?
The Opinions and Observations of Fallen Fruit
Here: The woman and her only true
possession
And Here: The sticky absconder who smells of fish.
They meet.
She blinks.

The dust replies
It’s a simple plan:
The Dear Lady is to be led
Astray
by pretty words and unspoken indiscretions
her dowry in the end, useless
She’ll be banished to the counties
To be a governess
or the
Bored companion
of the only living relative who will
Admit her services
Unpaid in silver coins
He is Blind and his Cook has left
Dyspeptic
Disagreeable
Cheap
and Mean.

She is Ruined.
Perhaps she will escape
to Italy
and die
Alone
in the sunshine.

The dust tells me another story
The same century still
This time, a miscreant princeling
surrounded by Trifles
Picking up one bob and then another
Preoccupied by uselessness
Perhaps a strawberry
Perhaps more claret and his mistress’s left breast
Tonight will be the scullery maid
Who will lose more in the end
Than she could ever possibly imagine
Tossed out of the kitchens
to Providence.
God bless Her.

The dust tells me
It’s mercantile, my dear
It’s all transactional
But look at me
I’m here for a time but am easily
Agitated and
Airborne
Aeolian driven
Ever blossoming fugitive clouds of swirling devils
Interstellar Reflection Nebulae
As you can see
I’m never in one place
So I say keep it movin’.

An ad in the LA Times
Pictured a jewelry store in Beverly Hills
Somewhere off Wilshire
A golden band modeled after an Egyptian original
Mother wanted it and so we went
We sat on tuffets of crushed velvet and
She bought it
replacing her wedding band
Which I never did find.
It was pretty but
what other significance this meant
regarding her husband she did not tell

She was struck walking on an off-ramp
on the 10.
Heading east?
How did she get there?
I asked her in the hospital
On the gurney she shook her head
And said she didn’t know.
That’s Alzheimer’s for you.
The ring is gone.

Father took his off well before she passed
and left it on the top of his dresser.

Naples yellow
Prussian blue
Burnt umber
Cadmium Red Deep
Napthol Red
Quinacridone
Phtalocionine Blue and Green
Portrait Pink Light
Yellow Oxide
Raw Sienna

Can you make a painting without these?

Have you ever had a fantasy boyfriend?
The kind that thinks that you’re
A couple
Despite the fact that
You don’t have their cell number
Nor their name,
often
You never had *** or traded spit
They don’t know where you live
They, in fact, know nothing about you

A little laughter shared
Perhaps
A momentary giggle waiting
for the bathroom door to open
And bam! Like Zeus.
Without your ever knowing, you are a team.
A team that never engages
but together none the less. Solid.
Ride or Die.
Then one day
You have an ugly break up.
You never saw it coming
What did you do, you wonder?
He won’t speak to me!
He’s mad. Filled with resentment.
His eyes are on fire. I am hated.
He will show up the next time we see one another
with a woman
And that’s when you finally know for certain
You just had a Fantasy Boyfriend
How did you rupture?
It’s an eerie realization.
Like understanding in an instant
that neither are you the ventriloquist
nor the dummy
But somehow
you
go back into the box.

Better still, have you ever encountered the sub-species
Fantasy Bad Boyfriend?
Or Fantasy Abusive Bad Boyfriend?
They are perhaps the worst of the lot, naturally.
They don’t call.
They date other women.
They sit in their living rooms assured that you’re waiting at their front door.
In the rain.
With flowers.
Over and over the bell, ring though it might
It pleads on your behalf.
And yet they will not answer
And I was not standing there.
I was at the beach
watching the rain fall upon on the water.

You never called
so when they
disappear
For
Days
And return unannounced
You’re just now finding out that
there are serious cracks in your relationship.
They used you
They played with your heart
They apologize for the treatment of which you are so very undeserving
They never wanted you.

Yet you never spoke.
Never popped over with
Flowers
Nor cookies!
Never sat in your car waiting
You were out town the entire
Time.
You two did see a movie once.
That is true.

But now you’re over.
And he’s moved on.
And suggests with his absence?
that you do the same.
You can tell.

Some days your paths cross.
He stands still as Jesus
At the Hollywood Farmer’s Market.
With his wife and new baby
Or
Dog.
She looks at you with suspect eyes while you think about the tomatoes.
Someone wags their tail and hopefully they will quickly move along
en famille.
You hold your tomato plants and shudder.
You walk over to the double blossom peppermint tulips.
Tight little babies ready to unfurl.
The ones you never gave him.

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

Dina?
Deanna?
Deena?

What was her name?
A diminutive of something
Or a shortening.
And I don’t even think that I am close

I miss you.

a small concrete table
white
a group of girls
Smoking and smoking and smoking
Trading lipgloss
I don’t remember what we talked about

But I do remember that the meds made you so
Hungry
“Are you gonna eat that?”

That’s how it begins in such places
Passing off a cig
Or trading processed food
Or just giving it away.

Have a lie down
or hand over the pill stored in your cheek
for someone
needier.

You said after your second plateful of anything
Make sure you let me know if I start getting fat

I tried not to follow you around
We had breakfast
Cigarette breaks
lunch and dinner
I could have sat with you all day and night

But I let you roam like a yearling
talking too much to too many people
Spinning around in the hallways
The skinny girl
on the floor doing a striptease on her back
in the streaming sunlight
I could tell
That you got paid for this at some point
Even the imaginary boa scared these boys

You loved to talk about God
I, however, do not

You loved a ****** ******
They were your favorite
and would reminisce with the junkies
Always sitting close-by
You claimed that you could make a man cry
By what you could do to his body
I can only imagine
what you’ve done so far
At your age
and you have a kid

I know
that you’re frightened
to be alone
with your mother
She’s so small
You wouldn’t want to hurt her

And I see her
that one time
with candies and soda
that you made her bring from
the 99 cent store to share
with all these people that don’t like you
that she is
a tiny thing
Yes
anyone could crush her
I see your point.

Deena
Dina
Deana

I can’t remember your name

You’d wake me for breakfast
Or, I you
You said the voices never stop in your head
Not just voices but other strange noises too
You acted like it was
a drag
But in fact you were **** scared

I can hear sounds too I offered
Bells
And Strings
Faint Voices calling my name
Offering succinct advice
Can’t everyone?
Leaning against a wall
with you at my feet
I saw your head snap
To the right
I said
Don’t worry
I heard that too
And you were so relieved
You grasped my feet in gratitude

You said that you are three.
Dread is the bad one
a male
And another
a ****** female who’s name
I can’t remember either
I suggested that there were more
Perhaps.
I met the ***** and I did not like her
at all
In anger I returned your sweatshirt
And you said
You know she’s terrible
I told you that
Take back the shirt
It’s cold

The men here don’t understand
our
Relationship
They assume that it’s lovey
Their minds are blown by
Companionship in difficult circumstances
Holding hands might help you through
You never know until you try

You loved to have arguments over the Bible
I would make a lot of noise to shut it down
I cannot listen to that
You would talk on that phone on the wall
With the father of your child
About god
You missed your boy’s
first day
of kindergarten
You called him on that phone to make sure that he got the plastic truck
or some such toy in your absence

I wonder when you gave up your life
When an injection of Ativan in your ***
and a night
In an darkened empty room
Bound
became an ideal resolution.
You couldn’t figure out
why you had a lump on your head
And I explained that
it was the result of
banging it repeatedly
against the wall.
Side effects of Lorazepam include:
Little recall

You seemed to have a plan.
Visiting and writing up the coast
The Dean Moriarty of Hospitals
But what about your kid?
The doctors say you can’t leave until you’re well
I couldn’t even tell what’s wrong exactly
Or what he’s really trying to tell you
Other than too much too soon
But that’s every girl in LA
Isn’t it?
You said that
It
Emerged at age 24.

I think about your son.
I can’t believe that you have one.
And your mother
Who adopted you.
What did she in fact bring home?

Deanna.
Dina.

When they called to say that my car was here
That I could go
You covered my neck
With kisses
And said Thank You Thank You
I Don’t Know
What I Would Have Done Without You

What is your name?

Dee.
D.
Just the letter.
I remember
Thank you.

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.

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

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’

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

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)

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.

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

At three or so I would awaken
Out of a fragile sleep
to the clang of pots and bowls
Cabinets, silver spoons and a measuring cup
Pancakes fried in a skillet
Buckwheat from a box
I don’t know how long I lay there
Listening
And I wondered whom else in the house can hear
I was closest to the door that led to you
Just one door that separates
Were the others in this darkened house staring at the wall or ceiling? Counting?
Afraid, just a little.
Thinking about the morning
when it comes

After your feeding,  
the kitchen
would be cleaned to its former glory
Spotless
And into the bathroom
Right next to my ears
You would step softly and close that door behind you
Turning on the sink’s faucet
And then the shower
Taking the laxatives
And wait
I wait

We all wait in this house for you to finish
It goes on and on
And then you turn off the water
Go back to bed
And maybe then I can sleep
Again.

Well look who’s here everybody!:
It’s Nice Try Huncke (drink)
It’s It seemed Like A Good Idea at the Time Huncke (drink)
It’s I wasn’t anywhere near there Huncke (drink)
It’s Yeah So What? Huncke (drink)
It’s I didn’t do anything Huncke (drink)
It’s You got the wrong cat Huncke (drink)
It’s This belongs to me Huncke (drink)
It’s I bought that downtown Huncke (drink)
It’s I don’t know what your talking about Huncke (drink)
It’s Really, You Don’t Say? Huh! Huncke (drink)
It’s I’m not carrying nothing Huncke (drink)
It’s I’m clean Huncke (drink)
It’s I’ve been clean for a long time now Huncke (drink)
It’s I wasn’t even uptown Huncke (drink)
It’s I never use that stuff Huncke (drink)
It’s That’s Stuff will **** ya Huncke (drink)
It’s What I do? Huncke (drink)
It’s Nah I don’t know him Huncke (drink)
It’s You can’t keep me here on that Huncke (drink)
It’s We were just talking Huncke (drink)
It’s He disappeared? Really? Huncke (drink)
It’s I’ll give you an An A for Effort for that There Huncke (drink)
It’s That Just Might have Worked Huncke (drink)
It’s There’s Nothing in my Pockets You Can Search Me Huncke (drink)
It’s What are you talking about? Huncke (drink)
It’s I don’t know him Huncke (drink)
It’s I’m just a poet Huncke (drink)


Can replace “drink” with “puff and pass” but no ****** you will die...

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

Four girls sit cross-legged
On cold pitted concrete
It’s always cold here
Their rear-ends frozen
Bare ankles growing sore
Pouring over textbooks
Finishing today’s homework or
Tomorrow’s.

Hope there’s no pop quiz.
They nod
In unison
I didn’t study
Neither did I
The other two stare
At their books nonplussed
Their papers scattered, a ruler and a pen

Out of the library and into the cold arrives
The fifth
She looks about and sees
A grey curl
A long head
A heavy tail
It’s soft, someone thought, as she saw the raised leg

Which came down fierce like lightning,
A defiant, queerly polished white saddle-shoe
One of two strange shoes
That looked like no one else’s but why?
Flattened the entirety into the cold, cold concrete
The meteorite that destroyed a species of one.
Conjoined twins, now dead

There’s no way we can repair it
Can’t even peel it away
The custodian will have to scrap it off with a blade and wash it down

We laughed
All but one.

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

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.

Euphrosyne: You can just stay here
And if I give you the white strips
You can just lay down
And use the white strips
And by the time they release you
Your teeth will look so good
I mean no offense but
You’d be using you’re time wisely.
They will look so
Much better.
Here, I have two boxes.

Aglaea: I think there’s yoga too
You can really firm up doing that
I really think you should stay and
Take the yoga
I’m serious.
You can also journal
And do color therapy
I know you know your colors
Obviously!
So you should think about
Sharing what you know
With the less
Fortunate
It shows
Gratitude
And I know that you’re Grateful.

Thalia: While you’re here we’ll get you all
New stuff
I know this guy
And he can do it
He’ll redo your whole place
And I bet it could be an editorial
And you need flowers.
We’ve got to get that sorted
Why don’t you do a vision board?
There are
Magazines here right?
You can use them. Well some of them.
Vogue maybe? They do have Vogue right?
And when you’re out we’ll
Deal with the hair and stuff like that.
In the meantime
Find out if there’s a manicurist in here.
You feet are busted.

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

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

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

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

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.

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!'"

Is it the possibility of
Some unforeseen yet magical
disappearance or
Of it being
Loped off
That makes one so very aware?
Erections must give great reassurance
Yes!
It is I
I am here
I am still here

Freud says that women want one
That they look down and see barren flatness and one fine line
instead of a mounting glory
A majestic rod
But I think perhaps
Freud is more afraid of losing his
Would that make him a woman?
I think not.
She is not on the right side
of the minus sign.

It must be a perpetual
Existential terror
The possible fate of Bobbitt
the Marine
Having one’s sliced off and
Thrown over the roof into the tall grass
Where the cops won’t go
unless the dogs go first
It’s so easy to do
Look it’s Mr. No *****.

One must understand this
From a very early age
And what of the consequences?
Shall we build effigies everywhere
Living spaces and statues
And talk about them all the time
And never learn
how to get the stream into the bowl?

‪ ‪”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.”

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?

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.

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

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.’

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

Laying around
about the dorm room
Bored
Looking for quick
Stupid cash
We came upon a listing
My roommate and I
in the local paper
Artist models needed
No experience necessary
That was key

The guy on the phone was chirpy
He lived
Close by in Oakland
He gave us directions to where
He would pick the two of us up
We
Would take the bus
He would be in a station wagon
Beige

He met us sure enough
Old
Old as the ******* sea
Formal suit and tie
Maybe a hat
We drove back to the apartment
And entered
First my roommate
And then myself

A ****** yellowed set of rooms
Where we will be heading to the right
To the kitchen
I’ve noticed the battered ***** *****
Mattress
Also
To the right
Stains and an attached clamp lamp
A single stark bulb

We were greeted by an even chirpier young lady
She was like a baby Joan Jett
All rocker black and leather
Sleek hair slicked back
She seemed somehow to like
really really old men

She took over and reached
for the plastic folder
She handed it to us
“You need to look at this before we go on
This is what we do”

Obediently, we cracked it open
and peered inside
Bent over we studied
Sticky plastic pages
Of brightly faced girls
Page
After
Page
Smiling with awkward innocence
No bright eyes nor youthful effanescance
No desire
Nothing wet
Except their palms with thoughts of escape
And 100 dollars

I only remember the girls whose makeup faded around the neck to betray
the true color of their flesh
Not flushed at all with sticky expectation
They left no impression in their nakedness
Ghosts
Shades
They should have been in class or doing something else

But our Joan!
Joan was a star.
Her photos were full of sass and delight
She was more than happy
to show you her ******
Over and over and over
She said
Actually
it’s a club
The guys pay a monthly fee
And they come here and shoot
In the apartment or maybe outside
They cannot touch.
There is no *******.
Mostly they shoot
Me.

Alone.
A Pixie Star.
This was were that old man’s money was.

I don’t remember what she told us
What she used to do before
this had to be a moment
A rather short moment
She would move along because
This kink was overstuffed with
impotence
and ineptitude.
Kink that might be easier to deal
With
On a properly lit stage
Or a quiet motel room with the shades drawn
Cash up front.

But for now
She was the enterprise.
And what would he do without her?
We three giggled and guffawed
in the little kitchenette.
We weren’t game for the arrangement.
She knew that.
But she liked to talk.
Men like that are pathetic.

Seriously why would we do this?
All those faces in the book!
Four on a page
Excitedly, we thought that we recognized
One or two
I know her!
Look I know her! I’ve seen her
in the Poli-Sci Building!
I’m sure we did not know any of them.

The mattress.
I could not fathom what happened on that thing.
I don’t want to know.
I had to look the other way as we left.
Did he perform
Abortions?
With hangers and kitchenware
Can ******* be that messy?
Just opening your legs?

We said goodbye to her!
She was wonderful.
She would sparkle forever.
Joan Jett!
Piling back into this hoarder’s
station wagon amongst
the musty boxes and newspapers
strewn all over the backseat with us
He drove
to the bus stop
A waste of his time
Disgruntled
Failure

He asked
How should this ad read
so that
this doesn’t happen again?
We offered no suggestions.
It had been fun
However idiotic.
I don’t remember
how long it was that
we kept our bus trip
secret.

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?