Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Sunday, December 26, 2010
Thursday, December 9, 2010
That the best way to degrade people
Is still to mockingly repeat their sayings.
“To express oneself truly,” he said,
“In front of people is something like
Taking a parakeet out to see ballet.”
Then he mentioned the dolphins,
How they still insist on ferrying
Lost boats to shore- “If you ever find
A lost airplane, lead it to a mountain!”
Allison reached inside the cage.
“Pretty bird, oh, pretty bird,” she said
And ruffled his feathers. His tail
Feathers stood up. “Pretty bird,”
He said looking longingly at her back.
Monday, December 6, 2010
Saturday, November 13, 2010
They say where are you going, out to for a smoke. They follow me.
They walk the streets of the living in my pursuit, they inquire: what am I? I run.
I run through the gates to the world of the dead. My friends standing at the gate in the world of the living, badger me why.
The melting faces of the walking dead. The essence of the place something like that painting called Scream.
I give my cigarette to a dead salesman. He takes a drag and gives it back to me. His slimy dead essence on the butt of my cigarette. I place it in my mouth. I ask him if he is a nightmare. No nightmare. No nightmare? No, no nightmare here. The ground beneath my feet began to open up.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Sunday, November 7, 2010
Dry the semen shortly, the old man
Thought. “Zelda Zelda Zelda,”
He said still standing over her grave.
Even in her old age, she wouldn’t
Be offended by the act, nor repulsed
Any more than a mother by the greedy
Love of her mischievous-spirited son.
“The heavens, with their airy clouds
That hardly even exist, but belie the true
Austere gates designed against me,-
Did I even ever stand a chance?” he said,
And sighed the same familiar way
He does after every one of his early
Morning graveyard rituals, and walked off,
Checking his shoes for stray drops.
Zelda’s tombstone-portrait smiled at his back
From underneath a tiny smudge- the
Uninformed might say despite it, but
They both know she smiled from underneath it.
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Sunday, October 10, 2010
At the park, mothers brush the hair of future emporers. They sleep with their head in their mother's laps. The mothers are careful not to interrupt the dreamy gaze of the young heirs. They cultivate the relaxed brows and the slow breathing of the toddlers with their touch.
She dangles an inflatable doll made in the likeness of her son when a frightening thought enters her mind: what if her daughter is too secure in her reign over the toys in her brother's absence? The boy suddenly becomes tired of the inflatable doll and punches it in its silly face so hard it tears off the stick. He lays his head back down, not even impressed with himself.
She insists they will be late for lunch but he dismisses the notion with a shake of his head. She entices him with ice cream. She's glad she didn't have to demean him by using her stern voice. They are replaced on the bench by a young Indian couple arguing. Back at home, the interim husband-king sleeps his last years as reigning champion of the world away.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
The men that inhabited that country. What money means to them. Their gaze over the country on their way to the bar from work. They will spend everything they got. They spit on your ideals. They've never looked at a stranger with a welcoming eye. They are the incomplete fantasy of a young woman. See their beards, their shoulders. Their illegitimate children. Their fantastic romances and their brutal way with women. They watched the stranger walk the rode with the child.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Sunday, July 11, 2010
His understanding of things and his point of view. In his class picture where his face was barely visible his intellect took up the whole room, metaphysically speaking. He knew you better than you thought. He came equipped with a world his own. He knew your strengths and your weaknesses, too. Thank God for the secrecy of his fantasy life.
Saturday, June 5, 2010
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Little did the boy know the spirits that gathered outside his car conspired with the girl against him. They circled outside the car and saw the boy's innocent love-aspirations and what it was that he saw in the girl and regarded it like pirates of the heart. They swung open the door and pulled the girl out of the car. The boy tried to hold on but he really didn't stand a chance and the spirits carried her to where they wanted her and lifted her up and held her and did those things to her. More spirits held the boy down and made him watch. The girl whaling in the trance of the will of the spirits and the anguish of the boy like a very tragic faerie tale that night.
The girl looks back on the night later in life in the all's fair way that every woman looks back on the memories of her heartbreaks. The man who sits in the chair beside her's who was the boy in the story reaches over and takes hold of her hand. The woman's pretensions that a man can't understand and the story of her life like she wanted it. He holds her hand and they look out from their porch. The man sitting there more content than ever in the role he has played in her life and the woman's mind working hard on her next fantasy.
Monday, May 24, 2010
The look in his eyes when he looks over the property in the ambitious afternoon. A girl's crying once interrupted the look of unstoppability. Her mother elevated her above the fray in her arms. In a long sigh she said that someone always cries.
He thought, how did that pretty girl get her mother to win the war for her. And without even using her hands. The boy built himself a shelter with the bricks and stones from the little girl. Above the doorway he wrote, you musn't cry.
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Before she died the girl in my arms. Her skin and her hair in the sunlight in my arms. Against the world that took from her what it wanted without giving back and exploited her kindness and moved about her too quickly like a pack of wolves that threatened to tear her away with it but couldn't in my arms. I said to her I will take you from this hour to the next like this like birds in flight like a house in a tornado. She without fear limp as a feather in my arms. This beauty created for me for the world to take from her and to appease my will. For me to save and for me to break. She a woman for it and me a man for it.
The red of that sunset that I saw from above the clouds. The sun encased in the horizon like a jewel, like a pearl peaking out from the oyster. War-clouds marching on beneath me to do battle in a hurricane-skirmish too far ahead to see. She was betrayed more than once. She cried after sex and I said go ahead and let it out. My love overabundant like a well overflowing. Something wrong with it. I ran my hand along her back and legs and arms that were for her and along the tender parts that were for me. Her cool skin that glistened. That belied the flames that came from within after all, that destroyed the love that soared for me and for you who aspired to have it, too.
Saturday, May 22, 2010
The sight of a child repels her. Like a heretic at the sight of her God. The child's affabilities not endearing it to the woman. If she could get her hands on a child it she'd throw it in the fire. Her own wasted motherhood glaring back at her. Condemning her. Dooming her. She and her tramp friends coconspirators against the essence of a child. They warm their hands over the trash fire and worship unforgivable gods in the night.
Those that know her come in and out of her life. They have no clout with her but one. The devil comes to her in the hiding-dark of the night. His loving gaze her nourishing nectar. Every night she tells him the same story of the drunk ecstasy her lover now, her child now. They don't know the happiness I feel. He tells her that's all right. The woman-drunk wants nothing from you and chases the only ecstasy she knows. The unscarred soul offends her.
Saturday, May 15, 2010
The man sneaks out to see movies when he can. When he watches a movie he's brought back to the place and time of a boy. He looks out from his world at adult life like a movie like everyone has a role like everyone knows what they're doing. Doesn't see the desperate and lonely lives. The man's disillusionment as he lays next to his wife. Sometimes he gets a boner in these moments but he doesn't want to bother her with it.
Friday, May 7, 2010
Thursday, May 6, 2010
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
I stumble on the stairs in the dark because there is a light switch downstairs but not upstairs. The people who built this house coconspirators who aspire to embarrass me. Good thing they can't see me in the dark. Or they'd have a laugh at my fat ass.
I'm in love with my 19 year old neighbor and she's in love with me. We've never met. Her blond hair and her tan skin in the sun. She's unpacking things from her car. It's shorts weather. God put me here in front of this window this morning to witness this perfect being. The leaves circling in the wind. They show their face to me and turn back again on the merrygoround wind. I write on each one as it goes by: In my old age I have a cock that works. I indeed have those fantasies, she writes back. But no one must know. In the dark and in silence then my dear.
Sometimes I look up at my young wife at breakfast when she's not looking at me. Her ease and her comfort. Her playing house in here like she learned in her childhood bedroom like she learned from her mother. I reach across the table and slap her. I curse God as loud as I can. I blink. She says do I want some blueberries. Of course I want some damn blueberries. She comes over. She kisses the corner of my mouth. And she runs her fingers through my hair in that way. In my old age I have a cock that works.
Saturday, April 24, 2010
The boy's back to him. The rhythm of the traffic that people hear but don't hear. Sunshine days of the dog's life that are remembered for his successes with people. The mountains in the horizon. The wild world he is connected to but disregards for this world of two legged creatures he controls without controlling. The sun that will set that in its red hue reminds the dog of getting home to a pile of food and there is his owner now getting up from the table.
The majesty of a sunset like everything else but a context for the dog's seducing of people with his good-doggyness. Like a girl coming into her sexual womanhood that hears a different romance in every song. Like that which goes without saying that is neither explained to man at his creation nor whispered to him by the earth he will be buried in that is the secret world that the dog is also a part of.
Friday, April 16, 2010
The moon-shine on his lean arm muscles that gripped the spear denoted something like, this human body that aspires to find that mystical strength that you the jaguar possess innately is as worthy as that of any Greek or Hebrew hero and demands worship from others just the same. As he stepped out he said to the jaguar: I pity you for standing between me and my loves who trust in me.
As he rounded the corner where he swore to himself he knew the jaguar would be, the deranged nightmare-cat's eyes aglow 10 yards ahead. The cat unmoving as he approached. It sat in the open night and looked at him plainly. He told the jaguar that he will slide the spear into his heart unabated like this tragic scene was a dream his will once had. When the boy's spear tip touched the jaguar's hair his half brother leapt from the roof of the compound and pinched the boy's neck shut with his jaws and waited there until the boy breathed no more. The spear laying there like an abandoned aberration of a tree branch.
The sound of the boy's bones in the cats' jaws vibrating in the night along with the hissing wind and the lapping waters. The jaguars heard nothing from inside the compound. Their low hanging belly hairs mingling with the grass as they walk back into the darkness of the jungle where the family swore they saw them and sometimes really did see them.
They watch the people file out of the compound. In their jaguar-eyes reflected this world where the tribes live under the jaguar's gaze and curse them in their manic ecstasies and offer them sacrifices in their sorrows. This strange animal who peers into the jungle with the arrogance of a god knowing the jaguar looks back at him and lays his faults bare to be witnessed and measured by his enemy. Who looks into the jaguar's eyes and sees only his own reflection. Who looks at truth and sees only lies. He wonders how the cat's mind entertains itself in the sameness of the jungle. The cat's mind is concerned with the jungle that is not itself.
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
She told me her anecdotes. The sentiment always the same. The moral never anything heavy.
Then I watch her laying on the sofa with a book in the sunlight. I want to lay with her with my face in her belly skin. I watch the coffee steam until it goes cold.
Her face contorting with this, no that. Every thought occurring to her except the presence of me.
Memories of fondling her that morning.
The ice cream stand outside. The chubby ice cream-faced toddler. Glad as a sailor at war's end.
Me open-arms screaming at God. I do not lay with her with my face in her nurturing belly skin.
My one way ticket to England, I will leave her in the cold clandestine morning.
Why, a story for God to tell her in her crying-dreams.
Monday, April 5, 2010
Sunday, April 4, 2010
So you can guess what would happen if he were to appear sitting across from her in a cafe long after she thought she forgot her adolescent indulgences. What could her father do, even if that young man was me? You and your knife in my dreams about the structural vulnerability of my jugular vein. Did you know that she dreamed of me putting that knife into your chest? If I crash my motorcycle going as fast as I can the angels will catch me and gently set me down. I walk with the universe smiling at my back - I dance on the tight rope above the toothless sharks.
Saturday, April 3, 2010
His thoughts passed along and fondled in the clockwork brain. Illuminated in the candle light of his awareness. Each one a pleasant surprise to him like a dictator's faultless children. His white beard, his white wrinkled face. His eyes that never gave a look back to another's. Your meek and ancient grandfather. He lives in the cupboard and sees through the crack in the door and loves being Hitler with his thoughts.
Friday, March 19, 2010
Saturday, March 6, 2010
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
The cafe I'm sitting in has the best atmosphere I've ever seen and charges two dollars for a shitty cup of coffee. I ordered a latte and they gave me a macchiato. But the enthusiasm and the customers are there. The people as soft as the businesses. No aggression in anyone. On my first night I was playing pool against two drunk rednecks and one of them calls sloppy on a difficult shot that I didn't call. It was my only shot I said and he belched sloppy again and again after my back was turned. I looked at him and he said it again like a little kid like he was talking to himself. Eye contact but no momentum in his face.
Guys see me check out their girls and they don't change their facial expression and the girls look me up and down and we keep walking. It's ok to want to fuck people here. In Brooklyn if a hot girl looks you up and down you know it's go time in Denver it's hello. The guys are not herbs here. They are outgoing and over polite. No aggression like we have a pact of cooperation like disrespect is not in the spectrum of social interaction. I feel like I can seduce every girl like I can convince every guy it's in his best interest to be my friend. Like a piranha in a goldfish tank.
Why I have the chemistry of a 13 year old I don't know. Why I wake up in the morning with that itch in the center of my thigh muscles like if I don't fuck or go for a run I'm gonna kill you I don't question. More hours in my day like an abberation of the Earth's rotation. I said give me New York without the bad parts and bought a ticket and Jet Blue came up with the perfect answer. My mathematically immaculate life.
But the old doctor peeled his skin lovingly. He put the scalpel
Between his eyes to see if they had any secrets to reveal.
This lovely poem brought to you via a drunken game of immaculate corpse.