"onoff" poems
Can these feet be killers
& stab the concrete,
If only the ribs would come, and lie lie lie,
My wet streets, my wet cheeks,
My porcelin toenails break, sweat down cheeks race,
Eyes they started,
Deep breathing on & onoff,
Deep breathing on & on off,
May 6, 2015
May 6, 2015 at 3:50 AM UTC
KISSING THE DOT
Our new black & white
more full of snow than pictures
holding the rabbit's ears just so
(“No...no...no...YES! ! ! ! ! ! !”)
holding it aloft like 9 year old Statue of Liberty
watching with fascination as I DREAM OF JEANIE
emerges
to our chorused 'ooooOOOOO! '
Even turning it off was a thrill
the little white dot dwindling to an infinity
the electric static tingling our lips
as we kissed it goodbye
. . .a pleasurable pain.
Now, after the bus crash
lost in staticky snow
I turn the set
on off onoff
watch the little white dot
die again and again
place my lips
against the fading screen
the electric kiss
of death.
Jun 2, 2019
Jun 2, 2019 at 4:17 PM UTC