Amateur Pornographer

"Women."
Tell me about it.
She's sweeping up everything,
Swaying layers of fabric
Seduction like a daily thing.
A pole-cat, pole-cat
Swinging from a tree.
Underneath
All the dead grass of a summer trespass
The Milky Way encircled by a steering wheel
And if the Big Band rages on,
We two will live forever.

Fool!

I have never truly believed
that regardless of what you
are trying to say, someone
has said it more eloquently
or poignantly before.
That is unless you
intend to profess
your undying love;
at that point
you may be better off
asking Shakespeare;
or if you're speaking to a young boy
Ginsberg;
and if you're speaking to a ghost
Dickinson;
if a bottle
Bukowski;
if old
Larkin;
if Spanish
Neruda;
if smart
Eliot;
if dumb
"look in thy heart and write."

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

Winter,
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
Drowning.
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
tomorrow.

I Read It Slowly And Thought Of Your Shape

I want to keep walking along
Beside you on the street
While your shadow
Tapers off the curb
And onto sun baked leaves
This moment is endless

Right now the car
To our left
Is pumping

DMB

And I know.
I know when he drives
Away, through the light,
This will never happen
Again.
And that this moment
Is not an eternity
But fleeting
Already
As I watch the 92 Ford F150
(The sun is setting
on the reflection
of its windshield.
An orb settling into
the first and last
Horizon of its kind)
Peel out at the first sight
Of a green light

I’m back onto you
Now in your bed
On my back
In our jeans
And the pressure
Of your hand
On my right breast
Is reassuring
And sexy.
I’m exploring.
I'm driving my tounge into your mouth,
Spelunking your depths.
The insides of your cheek.

Work was a drag today
You hear me say as you ask
If I saw anyone
Dead. Quietly dying
At the Funeral luncheon I was catering
I saw a woman
Whose husband accidentally mistook
Her For a burglar
And shot her stomach in
While she was attempting
To get a glass of water

He seemed okay
I watched him eat
A ham and swiss on rye
For twenty minutes
He just sort of stared
And cried

You’re done with my story
And now you’re trying to take off my bra
While I tip my head back
And shove yours
Toward my crotch
I watch a shrike
Dive into a haze.
A congregation
Of gnats.

Some hours later
It’s dark and we
Are on the internet.
You and I,
Scouring the furthest regions of it
For live footage of

DMB

And for once we’re not ashamed.
We’re having a good time
Reveling in a man whose bus
Dumped POUNDS of shit
Into an already toxic Chicago
Shit stream.

We're watching a clip
Of a show from 1998.
I fall asleep and awake
In dreams. The truck
We saw Earlier is back on my mind
And we’re fucking
On top of it
While the driver drives

Crash into me
I say into your ear
I always knew this song was about sex