it’s a dirty trick the world is round and the road will take me nowhere go far away they say as they laugh in my face knowing that i will spiral on forever did You make it so that i couldn’t climb up to heaven certainly in my dream i can fly anywhere it is when my eyes are open that the gutter stinks my red nose upon it the bottles are brown and plenty the snakes jitterbug sitting on the throne of bygones but only in classification how can anything You created be bad free will maybe You shouldn’t love us so it will cost 100 trillion to be green and where will my seed grow thus we pluck each other’s eyes out i don’t want to think anymore or see anymore the beauty is of strange moon beams cats fiddles drug induced riddles Darwin you fucked up revolution on all that was gained the righteous claim their stain on the goodness of the worker
iodine dream catcher
we call it infection thus fever comes hot cold sweat in dream floating away on a cotton boat needles shiny at the end of the bridge approaching me ghosts left over from a mardi gras circa 1874 i only met in pictures shiny orbs rubber balls as the rotten peaches fall into the bell jar tar the road but let me in i want to feel the burning in my vein traverse the universe i don’t think i’m made of clay but i’ll let you think i believe
desperado
when the armor sheds
and the spirit is bare
he likes to sit on a swing
legs spread across the grass
thighs dangling between heaven and earth
he doesn’t have to plot
on how to bear the brunt of sin
when the struggle rises yet again
instead yonder down by the willow trees
the children playing hide and seek
remind him of when he was a kid
teetering between his mother’s hallowed hand
and the inevitable curse of becoming a man
strip mall haikus
tall telephone pole
over pale distance crows caw
sun rises once more
parking lot safe house
for last night’s oil puddles
aglow in morning
pushcart troubadours
seek out their daily bread place
chow lines slowly move
weeds grow cautiously
in vacant junky yard suite
fast food wrappers scream
Venice beach man
i love the way you look at me
almond blue eyes laden with innocent sin
i love the way you steal a kiss from me
and sometimes hold me down
by my cat-like wrists
and tell me how you’ll take me
i love the texture of your ear
on my tongue rugged and sun burnt
crisped by the sea salt and the sand
i love to hear the song
of your primitive throat when you cum
i love how you scold me when i’ve had
one too many of the L36s
and i respect you
as a man who tells it how it is
with compassion while you grieve
for the slow motion death of my free spirit
at your service
i pluck a lullaby from notes that the wind makes
and i sing in la-la-la’s just for you
i pretend that the fellas can hear me too
as the warm sun makes me take off your old army shirt
hold on i got a text
but before i scroll on screens i loved your stories
of bayonets and the history channel’s gruesome blitzkriegs
and when you’d sit in the garage
crying hysterically like a heart broken woman
i would weep too by the old fig tree in the afternoons
why do we fight when we fight each other
and when we fight ourselves will the world be better off
room 5307
time marches like ants in a row
seconds stop to greet each other
disrupting the flow
blood swims in the veins
circulating with the aide
of medical hope all know is
just hollow
thoughts flicker in and out
off and on about all the things
universal in continuums of time
there are scratch marks
on the legs where the itch
laughs with determination
caverns in the deepness of the mind
thoughts some bland and some strong
demons torture with hallucinations
of what the heart despises more
the noise they make
those tendrils as they wrap
their wicked fingers round
the mind unquiet with grief
an LA woman
im no different
i too bleed
i too drink
i too breath
i too think
i too speak
i can wear
a suit and
shiny diamond rings
i can fuck
a woman or
a man if
i want when
i want there
is plenty to
go around in
this town i
can steal beg
borrow die live
catch a disease
have a cock
sewn on or
my pussy stitched
shut i can
love and hate
worship and sin
i get tickets
and big debt
i can write
and wait tables
sell the story
make you cry
or laugh depending
on how i
feel about it
i too can
show passion for
the things that
make society gag
i can figure
things out for
myself and buy
a house and
marry three men
i can walk
the streets alone
very late at
night and see
the children writhing
engulfed in their
pain euphoric to
the all great
equalizer who comes
when she wants
only and claims
those who have
had no time
i can watch
sit back relax
or run scared
out of my
head from the
boogey man or
woman you can
be just as
oppressive baby don’t
tell me no
look in my
eyes my queen
i give you
a description of
your cloudy soul
i can fight
but there are
some things that
i will die
for and won’t
think twice about
it my freedom
my voice and
right to be
me not a
victim or a
trophy i refuse
to be shackled
by diagnosis political
label or join
the sorority of
hypocrisy and vanity
yes i am
a woman free
now i understand
when i got
called rock headed
it served to
break that glass
ceiling and shoot
me to the
infinate frontier of
my own agency
my own democracy
i follow my
drum and i
will share all
with my sisters
but i will
never apologize for
who i am
how i am
what i am
why i love
when i go
where i stand
in this anthem
i proclaim equality
…now sleep in it
in my age
i just learned
how good it
feels to wake
up in my
bed so warm
and soft and
inviting some say
it would feel
like the hug
of a mother
but in my
age this is
all i have
created by my
own unsure hand
greatwestern
the hospitals are the same all over i now believe except for the revolving doors everywhere and the river beautiful pigeons and other birds look like they were spit shined and then the river crossed on planks made of steal with tug boat Cadillacs full of salty earth the buildings tall old bones new skin i grin at the sun rays coming at me hard but the old grandfather wind swoops me from the light and in three hours it gets dark and i walk around the park and back to the clinical round of someone who knows nothing of anything beyond the cereal box patients waiting all the time looking tired worn out sucked down pulled up by the soul and sick of heart like the ladies looking out from the Amsterdam house mine eyes search for invisibility and the wolves follow me with teeth and i a fox in sheep’s skin look the other way i don’t want idolatry tonight the French baguette is hard and stale but i get it anyway i want to feel other than myself the urges come like thunder but then all of a sudden it dawns on me that i’m in Illinois and that Abe was a member of the Whig Party tears are salty anywhere we go and why in the fuck isn’t Pluto a planet
words less spoken 