.
              
                                 Strange
                             r Stranger St
                          ranger Stranger
                         Stranger Stranger
                            Stranger Stra
                            nger Stranger
                            Stranger Stra
                            nger Stranger
                            Stranger Stra
                            nger Stranger
                            Stranger Stra
                            nger Stranger
                            Stranger Stra
                            nger Stranger
                            Stranger Stra
                            nger Stranger
                Stranger                 Stranger
         Stranger Stranger  Stranger Strange
         Stranger Strange     r  Stranger Stra
          nger Stranger           Stranger   St
             Stranger                     Stranger

GOS'POZHO! NE GO'VORYA' BALGARSKI
(Madame! I Don’t Speak Bulgarian!)

( for Onelia )

I stand outside
your world

all voiced & unvoiced
consonants

(& yes I know voiced consonants can become voiceless
but only in certain positions.)

‘mislya...’pisha
(to think...to write)

It’s all Cyrillic
to me.

Only able to enjoy the shape of it!

б
There is an O
with a scarf billowing
over its right shoulder

that really is a b.

(Reminds me of Isadora Duncan driving to her death
her scarf getting caught in the wheel.)

A capital Ɓ that is a v
(Oh yeah? Yeah!)

A large З that looks like a pair of *******
looking down from above from the side.

(And Lord save us
it’s...a z!)

An X that’s a h!
(I see...I see!)


Ф

An apple being cut in two
by a knife
once again
looking down from above

...that’s an f.

(Yes? Yes!)

Something that could be
a starburst
Ж
(zh...zh...zh)
Such a treasure!

Or a strong man
clasping two ladies by the waist
swooning to him in a tango
one on either side.

An Я
looking the wrong way

(Ya? Ya!)

И

Two capital I’s
hanging out together

with the I (i...i...i)  on the right
with its hand on the left one’s ***

(naughty vowel...naughty vowel)


Й

And an other two I’s
up to the same shenanigans
but with half a halo over their heads
as if they only wanted to be half good!

Maybe one day
I’ll learn

A little Bulgarian
(dogo’dina... dogo’dina)
((next year...next year))

But right now
it’s all

pictures
to me

that dash across
my imagination.


Stra’hotna ‘roklya!

Iz’ghezhdash prek rasno!

(Fabulous dress!)

(You look great!)

I drew his cartridges of loaded hope and daddy’s dancing shoes from his piano too many women n’ ***** bluez that cut of coyote teeth on his mirror in lipstick
A portrait of a saint
A portrait of a ******
A portrait of love and death
A portrait of humanity
I’m alive
I    th e   stra n g e r
I the collapsible paraplegic
I the daughter of the govenor and the daughter wailing sax

His mirror melted into red wax
Of confusion
In this open room bathroom where he is lying behind me invisible through all the lipstick he bought me that is drawn all over his reflection, my reflection, this place, this death sentence, the rest of my life to lead after 16 on my own, I can only hear the image screech I used to be behind me
26 wires into different parts of him to machines that make him breathe
candy colored computer heart pumps and wicked adreneniline bumps and heart breaks and candy necklaces and bad legs and I don’t know this now but in three days after a year of this ******* he’ll be gone
stroke.
Here I go.
Again.
On my own



1/10/2010

everyone needs
to leave me alo
ne because it hu
rts me too look
at them and I d
on't know wher
e I am and the
bed reeks of s
ex and laundry
detergent and
when I die will
my hair be stra
ightened? mak
e up my own fu
cking lyrics and
cry a lot and c
ount my allies
on my fingertip
s when did eve
ryone start hati
ng me?? am I
going to hell? i
s this hell? mu
sic isn't beaut
iful anymore b
ecause of you,
you ******* fu
ck why do I ev
en bother with
you why did I
even talk to yo
u you were alm
ost as ****** a
s I am!!! I'm sca
red to stick it t
o the man

Sensational curiosities of quarter-sized universes of human love and human flesh.
Gentle insane thoughtless violence cured in time's long sluice of betrayal,
Rancor, then betrayal, and then the frost. Never did I hear the twigget of the synthesizer max its flare.

Every mouth was a warship, the plumes coming up over the top of the spigot, sampler of the Neverspoke. Worships them, in the Hectares through the dross, the incumbent conflagration

Envelops life from venom thru a stra.  Into the hutch the creeper shakes, like the

bu* _ ck _ led t _ i _ es
b £ lurr€d £in€s
WhenYourM __ outh
& your (( hands ((
don't - say - the - same
thing/s dear.
[try to be cl.      ear]
i know >> it's a stra >>>in
when¡ roses¡ have¡ thorns¡
whO    kNOws {what ¿ for}
doesn'thavetomeanathing;
you\do\ and. /you/don't