Monday, April 21, 2008

Bird Can't Land

"Those who restrain desire do so because theirs is weak enough to be restrained; and the restrainer or reason usurps its place & governs the unwilling."

-William Blake

The tedium of rehab.
Paralyzing cold descends
On my every luscious fold.
Spring brings on an erotic weirdness
That makes my skin crawl
And writhe.

I feel a Super-hate;
I’m in my dowdy maid’s uniform
Underneath, and somewhere else:
I spread the cards across the table,
With the provocative arc of my wrists.
The way I embrace this fucked up weather.

My forgotten disposition
Born again,
Sweet chlorine baptismal!
A term of nocturnal emissions
The governance has successfully induced
Is like gorgeous acid rain.
We celebrate by running in the streets,
Not wearing underwear, listening to the Grateful Dead,
Congregating menacingly at night
In children’s playgrounds.

Memories, sharpened phone calls
Lacerating my snowy, exposed neck.
The softest part of my body,
And one you’ve come to name.
I want you to Vampire me,
A soft bite, treat me right.
I am wanton and disemboweling the world,
With an electric rain,
With toxic moonshine,
With warm vengeance.

To reinforce it all with steal girders
Would be a fantastic impulse
To fulfill.
A death with honor.

The power was inside me when I crossed the border.
Mecca di Suburbia rolling around the other side.
You sold it to your friends.
The citizens would slowly eat me,
“It wouldn’t be a selling point.”
Or so I had been convinced.

Denial like a fierce bird that cannot land.
"No, bird can’t land.
That bird don’t feel regret. "
As alive, as alive
As we will ever be.
Slip sideways in meditation,
I realize I cant help anyone make Hamburger Helper,
If I can’t Hamburger Help myself first. Then,
Getting lost in a forest of bamboo.
Looking, searching, lusting
For the off switch.

For the off switch…

For the off switch,
The Dead Kennedys lashing at my innards,
Speed is key,
Too many rings,
Looping through the universe,
Knotting at last the noose -
Broken Windows from action films
Will rain down upon me;
For I like Gene Kelly,
Am king of class.
I will escape, tripping ravishingly,
Over the spokes of this umbrella.

Hello Green Vegetables

Three seeds planted in a half-shaded garden
beans and peas and spinach.
There was hail, and the soil is coarse,
beaten-up, tired;
is it holding back now? Afraid of more
freezing rain?
Or did they ever plan to sprout
and bear fulfilling crop?

Hello green vegetables
or legume.
No offense meant
and hope none taken.
We'd like to see your head
pop out more often.
The soil can get so cold,
and there is word of snow