Monday, August 18, 2014

in the poetry of facing her thorns & earth loneliness



like a shadow

you show up swimming

from your latest white-out

your
papery thin
fucking of determined

sticks to the
middle of the door

Hate by Gladstone Midnight

diamond glinting

seating
nearly everyone

she blames

the party moonshine

flattening the drunken
prose

and a skinny boy
called Marina

black t-shirt pulled to a trickle

horde of tears
tattoo

imaging you

&

unholy car horns

the little poem’s
final choice

someone said his name is ________




and his
yellow-striped sun teeth make him approachable
howling like the window blinds
on the porch we see
his eyes on the tiny screen and they are amazing
i am going to write this because
tab clouds are star points
but we’re always distracted
like the waves that can never pod
botanic

and each monstrous

dark curve
has a living heart trying on
(at least once)
the snowy white
that will hold forever


*


my winter is a shadow
that will soon roll down these walls
and across the tiny origami bowls we made together
and i will brave the weather from the corner of my ordinary life
wishing for a couple of downers on my days off
remembering all the skin poems i wrote
suede sky ballads on the roof
for the already inflamed


*


if words could change
the physical
who would you be and where would i find you








Sunday, August 3, 2014

end of the nite


i was walking alone, when you drove by on all that
hardware, cling-bling, splash

gliding thru streetlight hookers, dancing like rain, called by the mornia buzz,
just bought.
somewhere wise heartbeats mimic feet - mine. i didn’t ask for a ride - paper bits just after sunset, and mosquitoes, trembling in their ten thousand notes

in the hot
neon ocean with its
smooth corners and wavy
feather bed i was safe once, clutching a small part of your world, while you fucked me, the DJ did his burn and delete. we kept up a slow melon thump to - “i looked at you and you looked at me”
theodore roethke in his owlish look: lightly lit, self-absorbed, porcelain, rubbed studded pockets made us wander back out into another long decade and suddenly we were famished and you bought me roses.