toast to grainy foundation

sugar spun spider webs
lay pink flesh thread
electric dendrites
lips releash a feeling

a tired hard squeeze
was what i needed
but not real defeated
were all of the demons

making out amidst explosive aftermath

green grassy hills where
i sorted our few memories
high school, abandoned houses
hiding secrets

research discovery
i talked to your answering machine
about the canopy bed with baby blue sheets
that married us. breakdown, the sky opened

whisky explosion
angelina without eyes
brad’s face melted, and they’re still in love
pulling out schrapnel with TV teeth and tongue

ran into you at the grocery store
staring at the cake, blue and purple
like a scorpion would come out
and me with a sledgehammer

new season

there isn’t that comfort anymore
in my walk, stroll, gait, way
i feel being outside, exposed
searching for sun

i find instead the crisp quick chillness
of a new england autumn
must start bringing out leather, and sweaters
thinking of scarves and mittens that
expose my tips at will for cigarettes
i find myself searching for you

in the fields of bright faces, in pods of wool
even though you are not up this early
or up here at all
i seek you like the fleeting sun in my fall

white house planet

great to see
being nuts
hasn’t left
youth & city

last chat

supine bovine, made of porcelain skeleton
fruit hangs from your neck, and you eat not
buddah looks on, pleased to see
holy creatures fast

i need to go, grab my bags
of you, your skin
not like you, the color is spring sky
oh, but that’s not the go, help me:

how do I do it?
“silk and woven scarves, oh to hang as limp as
they too feel the breath of life pass through
them where their fibers are pulled and tried”

jimmi, jimmi, jimmi
i never stitched your name
the needle stuck, black chino
but some of the chalk remains

how do I do it?
“the steer horn, hung on brown leather
holds flowers fake as you
but certainly more permanent”

shoeboxes full of empty cigarette boxes, photographs, lighters
how do I do it?
pastel dresses don’t tell

infatu-train-tion

you fill my thoughts like caulking
with the tip clipped, crack won’t stand a chance
i can’t get through five minutes
of class, coffee, chatter, whatever
without that impervious hot prickle
i swear my brain will atrophy
daydreams making swiss cheese of senses

liscense

i can go now
go fast
i mean i can
i’m allowed
but the means
needs achievement

back

back to class
where all teachers teach about penises
envy, gender, love, inversion
repression, transgressions

and this
the word, the way
the beautiful shiny gift
divine cock of knowledge
knowing bliss
to describe, transcribe
rights and rhymes
of the active mind

weddin

alone in crisp chartreuse cotton
burning wrinkles into a union of legs
as white chiffon collects pollen
i’m thinking of you in your bowtie and suit
i don’t go to the coast that often
but I sucked my Darjeeling right down to the dregs
and it said your blue suit case don’t need to sit rottin’
let loose and abuse your youth for this weddings sake

x fumari

i made my mind a kaleidoscope
with bright lights and pills and my travelin shoes
with fresh hair and an old shirt
i boldly roamed streets I will never know
pillows and a hookah bar and friendly strangers
weed from and apple in a hotel bathroom
where the border trim said
this is where you go to die, every time

settlin

i love you san diego
girls of platinum with a drippy tickle squeak to their tones

land of palm trees whose dead fronds dangle, reminding of time
big, tan malls, self replicating and infinite and huge with pricey coffee besides

land of lazy drivers, or friendly ones, when you are where you want, no need to go fast
hills too steep for feet, but wheels make them sing, enough for a chorus

land of the rust free automobile, dripping with chrome, colorful class, burning rubber on flat asphalt

will type out

I was walking down the street
And everybody I met
Were all people persons pettin everybody elses pets
And when they said hey man, at which store did you get
This fuckin chow, this poodle
Lit another cigarette

lame plane

You took a long time
In the great divide
Deciding what’s yours and what’s mine

We twixt it with twine
Wrapped in piles and lines
Were our banjos, and boots, and shoeshine

I know all these rows
Left a toll on our souls
But they’re bricks on our toes
When a pleasant wind blows

My mouth made goodbye
But your terrible eyes said
Our lives look much better combined

I know all these rows
Took a toll on our souls
And you know that I don’t want
To see your cheeks go

But you’ve gotten my heart
Mixed up, twisted in knots
So I’m taking my lot
Just so see what I’ve got

main plane

California is where
We laughed under the stairs
And ate oranges and red wine

The merlot matched my eyes
And the sorrow that lies
There, but you’d rather look at the rind

When I meet you, I’ll greet you
And say how’d you do
But I know that the real you I’m not talkin to

In the west coast, precious ghosts
Peel skin off the limes
And sting me with beauty
I will no longer find

ode to the intent train musician

you keep your concertos close, sir
headphones hugging you, the sizzle of studios
with an ipod case that will keep out the rain
a big back book

between the sheets, tapping foot, now feet
only devotion to the movement, baroque music
you used to hear it
but now feel it

and more in it than the train
you are not in your clothes, or
your clothes are not you
stiff khakis and blue

all around

whirlwind girl
in a daze, works a maze
and my cheese is brie at the last turn

a broken chain
set my pedals to go
faster, so fast, that the going was slow

pashaweary naan, a leopard cope

sought comfort in sewing clothes together
taking off my mind things that fall apart

exotic soul soothing where they know our names
opened closed doors, giving spice to the weary

bye bye meow meow

Pallid puddle of blood
Eyes bursting with maggots
Mouth small and shriveled
Like grotesque latex masks
But the gore is real and stays there

sick day

walking through the day like hot sand, barefoot
stumbling through stirring soup for the sick independent woman
and backing up in a straight line, squeezing squeaking tires on curbs
trying not to cry

you can't expect me to sit in class with a faucet nose
and listen to whiny 19th century bitches cry about nothing, lady
when i have a to be a driver by friday and sleep off disease till saturday
times not on my side, here

poem #1

i followed it and tackled it, angry,
until i had it headlocked

it swallowed spit and when it bit, fangy
my arm hung limp in deadlock

when will feelings learn
to wait until their turn to show

resentment to me
on the street is where everyone knows

that i loved you and from you,
the one thing i got in return

was this feeling of reeling
like butter, these guts pound and churned


heart be still, it's my will
and only my sense you obey

i'll be ruled by no hearty fools
oh please tool me tward matters of grey

for the brain holds no pain
just the stains that remain
of the memories that stayed to serrate

but my heart is a lark
that will start to embark
at the speed of a quark and migrate

strange infatuation

scooping dust into under nails
watching rainbows on depression glass
full of cherry blossoms, cherries, waiting for tea

i sang your name from my sternum
and the glass quivered; the dust smelled like home
picked up a shaving mug, said “think of me” –

- and I did - and was covered in poppies
you know how I feel, right?
well, how could you?

i want you
i want you to connect
i want you to connect with me

is it hard
is it hard too?
is it hard to together be

i know
i know there are many
i know there are many walls

built of eyeliner, sidewinders, spellbinders, pall malls

we can
we can break it
we can break it all down

watch it
watch it burn
watch it crash to the ground

then level we’ll be, what we think isn't we - stripped, we’re everybody

motion, loco!

bird songs in the trees behind the platform
and it sounds important, a garbly braah
like it needs something
it is loud
maybe it is voicing for the train
a garbly braah is not unlike the steady whoop
and it sounds desperate, shrieks, braaiiglabaglaba
twitters and flutters, swooning for locomotion

social visit

your face? in my house?
the one of a distant pleasant memory
swirling like froth on a hot chocolate mind

you 70’s slacker
with the semblance of a petulant boy
but of inverse disposition
always smiling, making me smile
for days and days
stays the warmth of your open eyes
seeing and showing and making and being

summer tales of skinned dear
brought back to the barn, shot and dead
how you left before lifeblood spilt
tainting your view of the horned beauty that breathed

skinny, dreaded vegans eagerly ate the venison
knowing that fellowship foreshadows all isms
there was no kill like this since wild men reigned
with drums and shared lives, community beauty

to have had your eyes and feet this summer, friend
to have been there, but being there once having seen there
is my most prized pipe dream, kept alive by mountain slides

whatta saga

past porter square speeding
past old boy memories
faster climbing needing
to ride out this feeling

retrieved my ride
for making good time
in parks and past pines
to where classes define

saga celebrated
in a kitschy boozey kitchen
where my dancing desecrated
talking heads and times i’ve waited

bold move

so many many things today
infinite little white dashes on asphalt
two tanks of gas
a couple dead birds, also raccoon
new room, kitchen, bathroom
blue walls with baby blue butter suitcases
emptied out into a place that can stay.