"montauk" poems
She was just a girl
All that time she was dead
Now she lives only for the money
Only for her lover Ag
She thinks hiis name is magical
Oh and what she would give to him
To be loved one more time
She forgot what an awesome gangster he can be
She is like a night fairy
Ready for their ride
Meets us in Montauk
Flora, why are you so shy?
A big kiss kiss from gallant
A big kiss kiss from paramour
Take her to the hollywood
The night stars saved her
Now she is a lonely rider loved by the stars
She falls in love with every man she sees
One-day lovers forever
She was blown away
To the Montauk, Montauk
What a mess she was all that time
She is fake, she flakes
She forgot what an awesome gangster he can be
She is like a night fairy
Ready for their ride
Meets us in Montauk
Flora, why are you so shy?
A big kiss kiss from gallant
A big kiss kiss from paramour
Take her to the hollywood
She is a splitting heartbreaker
He is a lustful love maker
She knows that one day they will be a perfect couple
A sensuous, caddish couple
She is a splitting heartbreaker
He is a lustful love maker
She knows that one day they will be a perfect couple
A sensuous, caddish couple
She forgot what an awesome gangster he can be
She is like a night fairy
Ready for their ride
Meets us in Montauk
Flora, why are you so shy?
A big kiss kiss from gallant
A big kiss kiss from paramour
Take her to the hollywood
Jan 5, 2014
Jan 5, 2014 at 8:34 AM UTC
a hinterland
there has
corn and
orient ties
in court
with his
golden tight
sweater so
he'd cook
tempura right
with his
catch of
roughy 'bout
now and
in his
kind place
in Montauk
Nov 4, 2018
Nov 4, 2018 at 1:31 PM UTC
Clementine deleted Joel
from her mind. Joel tried to
forget her; he couldn't, so
he got rid of her too. You
try, I know, to get rid of me. I
try, you know, to pretend that
the world isn't spinning so fast
in the hope
that we will fall of its spinning-top edge
and stumble, clumsily, gracelessly, into
each other. We're spinning so fast with it-
the world- so this is unlikely, so we both
pretend that it's an accident when we fall
into each other,
again and again, as
We play spin the bottle while
The world spins instead.
Suddenly.
Now that that same world has stilled itself for
us: we don't know what to do without its
rotationary madness angling us
towards old age and crumpets (together?). That
same world has stilled itself until
tomorrow when that same world will spill
itself out from day to night to day again
as we take our respective first drafts
of our poems written about each other
and
Edit.
out that same mad spin
that made us
us
just like
Joel and Clementine forgot-
on purpose. We forget, on purpose
with purpose
but,
we'll still meet each other in Montauk where
that same world will still itself
as we wrap our fingers around each other's
fingers
in the cold
where you might finally reciprocate
my lacklustre
confessions.
You too,
right?
Jul 29, 2015
Jul 29, 2015 at 11:24 AM UTC
Like you were a first trip to NYC,
or a perfect view of the cosmos
from that clearing on Sylvan Avenue,
I was agape and fawning while you sauntered
out from your double doors, to the end of your driveway,
to where I rocked on my heels eagerly
on Allen Dr. at 6:23
Come 7:15, we bedecked your body
with stripped and frayed Armani
in tribute to the Walkers we've seen;
cool-white fluorescence drew emphasis
on the harmony between your ivory simper
and each cobalt marble that rolled
and flicked beneath your tuckered eyelids
by some sort of beatnik artistry.
Frankly, my chest swelled with fever
when I noted the scrunch of your nose
askance to liquid-latex applications,
or the way black cherry sap wept
from the corners of your mouth
while dislodging the blood-capsule
in-between your molars
and your stately, hollow cheek at 7:50
And I noticed around 8:00,
when I had slowed you to a halt
near the crosswalk on Montauk
between Coastal and Le Soir
to fix the scar-tissue on your chin,
that if I ever knew there to be one,
you made a most stunning zombie
with my Tom & Jerry cap lining your scalp;
Which made the stain left by the makeup
worth the trade of my hat
in exchange for your company,
as we picked up a twelve-pack
at the 7-11 just down the street
before we returned to the party.
Dec 17, 2013
Dec 17, 2013 at 8:05 PM UTC
Mona.
Lisa.
Lee-ah
nardo
how do
YOU know
my mom.
I remember having
pizza
with ya the other night,
we watched
the "Da Vinci Code"
after we had that fight,
about Montauk
hotdog tripe flavored ice cream.
Even the audience
doesn't think that's yummy!
You taught,
me how to knit
chocolate and wish
upon the sun.
Did you mom?
Am I your son?
I'd prefer pecon pie.
No-body likes
pecans in my family.
Did Leo
like legumes ?
******
I may always
be cursed
with writing words
that make reference to obscure
astrology.
My apologies to his
groupies who think he's
the best ******* art-east
since slice bread.
But how would it
feel to had some dude who
painted your mom
and it was
the big-gust
most successful
commercial success
through out
time?
Nov 2, 2012
Nov 2, 2012 at 10:32 PM UTC
Pale/sheet white
Daisy hued valentines
Springtime comes--
Flowers grow, larks crow
In heavy snow.
In restless dream
Lies gentle day--
Effervescent sunlight
Breaks icicle caves
Into marvellous reflections:
Beauty and strength.
Blanket soft tendrils
Reverse hearts decay.
Beams of aquamarine
Melt chocolate and tears--
Kinds words meet scarlet blush.
Let's dance on blueberry hill
Swim in the sea of love.
(Meet me in Montauk)
Crashing waves no longer scare
For they are as pleasant as bubbling laughter
In the nest of your arms
<infinity
Mar 26, 2013
Mar 26, 2013 at 7:43 PM UTC
She said so go,
halfway through the show,
she was a nut but exciting all the same,
I ran like a scared kid running from the word no,
but I turned and asked to stay,
for this was always her play,
and I was just an extra,
but I couldn't and I came walking back fast,
I couldn't let our scene and sunrise fade into the past,
halfway mad,
halfway sad,
I asked her to stay,
with a smile and a tear in her eyes,
I held her hand,
at a Lake in Montauk we watched the skies,
our own doomsday sunrise.
Nov 17, 2013
Nov 17, 2013 at 8:14 PM UTC
*the winters
here in montauk
had frozen me
i am now
brittle bones
blood on my lips
lilac veins vivid
on my skin
silvery
i can no longer
count all these
dead nights for
my fingertips
have grown
a little numb
the exact way
the crystal stem
of the limpid glass
between yours
can never grasp
your heat
the very way
that sinful scarlet
liquid bead perch
on your full
crimson lips
unaware of its
good fortune
precisely the way
that beauty on the
other end of the
table veiled
burnt sienna
will cravingly gaze
into your worried eyes
but only one of
two hearts
will glow
the other will remain
mundane
and mine will always
yearn*
Feb 8, 2015
Feb 8, 2015 at 9:07 AM UTC
I am pretty sure my love will be leaving me soon
for a woman whose skirt does not lift in the zephyr of her sadness:
we kiss and we tie
maraschino cherry stems with our tongues. The
same labyrinth puts rosy skin in our teeth, here is his ***** hair
knotted with saliva. When I think I have everything,
it just means that we are stuck together –
I realize it does not mean that we are happy together. I think
someone poisoned the water
with glue, and it is I who dispenses more to let my love escape me.
He is as happy as a child who has finished a puzzle
except for a single missing piece, repeating the movements
again and again. That has got to bring it back.
For seven months, we have been handed the gift of pretending I
can feel the inner-workings of who he is and why he is
and I am pretty sure he knows he never has
to pretend again. It is there in the silences: across the room,
across the ocean where hundreds of babies have died,
babes with mothers and fathers and parents who weren’t divorced.
All I hear is my love toying with a Rubik’s cube
he never learned to complete. I have a Magic 8 ball saying
I should let him go. I mostly worry about telling my mom, who will
tell my therapist and then we will have to
close too many doors. As long as I am sad, they are locked. A
key is stuck in the mud or in someone’s molars –
my room is empty, the air is quiet, and he has not even left me yet.
Jun 18, 2013
Jun 18, 2013 at 4:39 PM UTC
__The waves pound against the sand
The heatness burning against my heart
People talking
Listening to music
Waves splash on the shore
At its maximum volume
Salty bubbles form
Kids surf
I see yellow, pink, and blue boards
Lapping on top of the waves
Elders drink punch,
Children eat sandy sandwiches,
Babies build their masterpiece sand castles,
Lifeguards look out,
And I'm shouting about,
"Go Montauk!"
Feb 18, 2013
Feb 18, 2013 at 1:36 PM UTC
I’ve been struck down again,
fully aware it’s my own doing.
Do you have a heart you can lend?
Mine’s drying from the taping and the glueing.
Oh my darling, oh my darling,
oh my sweet Clementine,
are you smiling or are you snarling,
more importantly are you mine?
Outside the window seasons blend,
the temperature holds no meaning.
I notice the change and the trend,
to ignore the withdrawals from weaning.
Oh my darling, oh my darling,
oh my sweet Clementine,
you’ve been avoiding and been barring,
but you can’t severe this line.
The stronger the initial fear
usually means the most is at stake,
and trying to prevent a single tear
can lead to the worst heartbreak.
Those who leave the best memories
usually leave us with the most hurt,
you know we can’t just live life with ease,
there needs to be some blood on a white shirt.
You can try to completely forget someone,
but putting that effort in means you’re actually fixated more,
and after all is said and done,
honestly who do you wish to be behind that door?
Oh my darling, oh my darling,
oh my sweet Clementine,
is it cleansing or more harming,
to live in denial all the time?
Oh my darling, oh my darling,
oh my sweet Clementine,
when it’s finished it’ll be starting,
and I’ll stand under the Montauk sign.
Feb 19, 2019
Feb 19, 2019 at 7:07 AM UTC
there's one crow left
this side of the ******
i'm the child with no socks and shoes
dancing delirious in a field of sunflowers
spinning in an industrial jungle
my arms wrapped around yours
like my hands on the monkey bars
the Indian magic wont heal this heart
can i drown in Valerian?
drunk on the missed sleep
your lips move at night
they spin tales of things long since past
i am the crow
singular
lonely
my broken oil drunk wings wont flap
you're crushing me
god the memories make me want to pull out my hair
the scars on your arm
speak volumes
i wish i could spin new ones
along my flesh
please my dear
lets not drag this out
lynch me quick
and i'll be the eternal child
in your grasp forever more
a secret romance
hidden in the back of my mind
deep in montauk...
god bless you my dear
Oct 18, 2011
Oct 18, 2011 at 6:31 AM UTC
Okay New York here we go, today's the day.
That we're speaking in memory of someone who spent their whole life pretending to be someone they never could be
Loved by many but everyone who has ever loved you was a figment of your imagination
What is a person without a spine to hold them up right?
A snake in every sense of the word.
You slithered around your whole life glorifying your misery for a retweet and a spot at an open mic
What better describes the life of a starving artist than to sleep in your car but be found dead in the morning
You said you wished she would meet you at the rocks in Montauk but you were at rock bottom the whole time and no one would meet you there.
And you were down with abandoned ship that washed up against your loneliness
And abandoned things should stay abandoned when they're full of black mold and pathetic
I wrote this poem with my left hand because you felt like you were someone else
And I used my left hand when I finally pulled the plug
Time of death November 28th 1986
Apr 2, 2017
Apr 2, 2017 at 1:25 PM UTC
" We all have that special place; that Montauk, Paris, or Vienna we share with someone very dear to us. So meet me in Montauk, meet me where the Sun touches, meet me where my heart fell to pieces, meet me where you first told me about your dreams, meet me where we first met. Our souls were meant for adventure and peace, and both I find with you."
Oct 12, 2015
Oct 12, 2015 at 11:49 PM UTC
Something amazing happened last week
For a moment I felt what it was like to be young again
With my memories I can never quite get there
But I try
I’ll close my eyes when I eat a chipwich
it tastes like running back to our beach umbrella with sticky fingers
the summer we rented a cottage in Montauk
I long for the itchy feeling of sand in my bathing suit
and for the salt to sting my eyes again
That would be heaven
But I still throw the wrapper away in the stainless steel trash can
beneath the sink in my apartment
that is exactly two hundred miles and twenty three years from Ditch Plains
It hurts sometimes
to remember how much I have forgotten
When we had dance parties to the Austin Powers soundtrack
When watching mom get dressed
and waiting for the babysitter
and kissing you goodbye
and chicken nuggets for dinner
was the best feeling in the world
Because I knew I could always expect
the smell of your coffee in the morning
those days when we lived in the red house on Craft Avenue.
But last week
in the backseat of a friend’s car
driving back to Boston after a long hike
I watched the gray forest pass by outside my window
and I fought to keep my eyes open
I was no longer thirty-five
I knew the moment would come when I would be lifted out of my car seat
and brought inside
where you would light a fire
and mom would make hot chocolate for us
And later we would eat homemade popcorn and watch Titanic
as our winter boots lay on their sides in the front hall
the snow between the treads slowly melting and darkening the wood floor
I felt very safe inside that car
the kind that only a child on the brim of sleep can feel
I don’t know if I will feel that way again
But I will still close my eyes when I eat a chipwich
and wait for the smell of your coffee in the morning
Feb 16, 2016
Feb 16, 2016 at 1:27 PM UTC
i keep you with me always
you visit me
in the space between
sunset and moonrise,
in that world i belong to you.
keeping our memories
loccked up tight,
keeping them safe
in their heart shaped boxes.
i go back to them each night,
a land of whispered promises
and starlit worship.
i know if i could go back
there's not one i would erase.
despite the hurt,
despite the loss,
you were my masterpiece.
Jul 12, 2019
Jul 12, 2019 at 4:57 AM UTC
I want the procedure done right away
Erase her from my thoughts, eradicate each memory
I used to believe that you would save me, but as I'm drifting off to sleep
I know that you'll be gone by morning
We laid out on the ice and I'm just exactly where I want to be, I've never felt that
Your impulse to throw me out has caused both our minds to drown in a sea of dying memories
We trace our footsteps back and put our time here to rest but I can't remember anything without you, so when I wake, there will be nothing left
How could I have suppressed the memory of the day we first met?
Please let me keep this one
I want to call it off, can somebody wake me up? I don't want this anymore
I'm holding on to your love but they won't stop 'til it's dead
You and I both know soon it will be over, so we cherish all that we have left
Clementine, I tried to rip you from my mind
Each pray'r accepted, each wish resigned
How happy is the blameless vestal's lot, the world forgetting by the world forgot
Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind, each pray'r accepted, each wish resigned
I'll find you when I wake and we'll try again
I'll meet you in Montauk my dear old friend
Aug 28, 2017
Aug 28, 2017 at 11:26 PM UTC
i want to go to the hospital
i miss the pale sterility;
human care on command
i want to stop being illogical
i miss childlike passivity;
you just don't understand
my existence is infinitesmal
i'm a waste of human life
but i want you to stay with me
oh, please, at least for the night
help me forget about this would-be
i refuse to meet him in montauk
or anywhere, for that matter
the memory of him hurts me
nothing he said, did, or could ****
made me feel like i was better
my existence is infinitesmal
i'm a waste of human life
but i want you to stay with me
oh, please, at least for the night
forget about the women
that i say that i am really into
i could change my sexuality
you don't even have to listen
to me, that's too much to put you through
i lack the correct mentality
my existence is infinitesmal
i'm a waste of human life
but i want you to stay with me
oh, please, at least for the night
Jun 5, 2013
Jun 5, 2013 at 9:45 AM UTC
Here, the universe
If you gotta fixture to same need
Lays on different intentions
What it is? you universe
Not to tell that it is a disaster
Universe you only know
Beginning and the end
Having cleverly trapped us
All in between.
Jun 30, 2019
Jun 30, 2019 at 3:59 PM UTC
the sun will always
set and rise --
but my mind is endless
it can't decide what weather
it wants to be today
well, yesterday it was sunny
even though it was cold and rainy
it was beautiful in my eyes
with my love, it's a montauk beach
day that's perfectly sunny and warm
drinking piña coladas
but god, when im not with him
it's just like yesterday's weather.
it's so cold, sad to be outside
maybe that's the weather today,
except no rain
it's just sad
Apr 2, 2017
Apr 2, 2017 at 9:51 PM UTC
i wonder when i will see a BMW as just a car
and not a haven--an earthy smelling
burnt orange cemetery for memories of road trips
with my feet on the dash, your disapproving glance
but the windows rolled too far down to care.
my skin seared in the summer sun, piling sandwich
upon iced coffee just to drive back to your house
and park in front of the TV. Picnics on the bench.
You sweating under the sunlight to see my smile.
New Haven train station, at early evening and
the middle of the night, sprinting with hands locked
toward the next adventure. Your hand off the shift
and on my leg. Trusting that we wouldn't crash
as we zipped through the woods late at night, eager
to crash and sleep the day away. Everything I've
pushed away to cope. Your broken tape player,
the heated seats cranked on my side without prompt.
Taking the long route for dinner on Whitney Ave.
Parking lot coffee dates and people-watching Sundays,
the day you drove to Montauk at sunrise to catch
the ferry while I slept by your side; the only time I've
ever seen you awake before dawn. Our movement
together; our bickering, the radio tuned to obscurities
blasting with open windows to see who noticed.
Hotel sleepovers in the Connecticut countryside, and
Rhode Island for the day. Car *** and Long Island nights
parked by the water, the humid heat in my hair,
salt and trees in my mouth. The sound of the locking
door, the key held clenched between your teeth.
The humming engine and your backwards hat perched.
I don't know which permeates my mind the most,
but when an m3 shows up in the rear view mirror
I blink back tears until it fades away.
Aug 15, 2016
Aug 15, 2016 at 6:04 PM UTC
Under the Bridge, along the Promenade: we
walked with words trickling through our
waxy lips. Where the Seafront was all silk.
Where the Waxwings, sealed wax tips,
lumbered about the Empyrean yonder:
splayed upon a Canvas
of Sapphire and Azure.
Before the Starry Night has come.
Before we reached the Shore only to
Digress.
"Liebe verleiht Flügel,"
I heard, or read in a Book.
The Streets are crimson rust;
The Spectators in Sanitariums watched
drab passersby. They shambled and
coughed admixt the crowded room, only
to find the Peristyle vacant and dead.
A Mantic Women, cards of dread,
stands on the corner; our
eyes catched, and She speaks:
"Wo bist du?"
"Wo bist du?"
Louder and fists shaking:
"Wo bist du?"
The buildings doddered, filled with
Cuscuta.
In Montauk, where we met, now withered,
covered in snow, I stood - my comportment
unsteady. Flashing in the distance I see
Point Light - Captain Kidd musing with his
Money Ponds - an Angel guiding wonderous
blights - The Recognitions, blimey,
Mr. Gaddis has gone blind - The Faustian
apotheosis abound -
The Streets are crimson rust
filled with dread.
Smelling of Jack-by-the-hedge -
I'm walking...
Noctivagant aura permeates -
Mich.
Jan 29, 2018
Jan 29, 2018 at 8:18 PM UTC
Montauk
What a shock
Things unfought
Stories not sought
Maybe another plot?
From what I got?
Will I thought?
A different shot?
Will I be caught?
Who cares, it’s not
Their slot
It’s not locked
So I trot
What if they bought
Or if it’s snot
And if they choose cots
Anyways,
I like the name Montauk
Sep 18, 2019
Sep 18, 2019 at 9:41 AM UTC