yearning in code



sweet whisper

cooed inside dreams

honey veins the sting

it comes on spurts of hot

metal polish in the blood

wolfram exploding in the night

thinly necked liquid sand holy grail

near blue Nirvana send me off to sleep

social worker

in the dawn

when bodies intercross

that stage of simultaneous

exhaust and regeneration

my mind becomes of another plane

where the primitive fears

gargle up before i can close my third eye

my getting beat or a fork in the road without its tines

i wake for a few millennial seconds

then heavy weariness weighs me down again

smelling Jewish rye bread toasting

i’m at the house on Rodney street

wearing my mother’s clothes

and my lips sewn shut

phone alarm buzzes on

and the cats start to call me mama

slowly i rise

unconsciously tap my lips

while dragging my feet

to the bathroom mirror

another day in hell

and all i got is a cup of ice chips

date night

i know we said Netflix tonight no hanky spank me but i guess i had a memory lapse on account i want to mount you don’t you move i’ll clear the dishes and close your eyes think up some wishes and i shall be happy to oblige after i get what i want hmm what’s that you say what did i mumble nothing honey just getting the massage oil from the bathroom oh no no don’t fall asleep we need to talk about access by the way how’s your cannoli it must pretty creamed up i haven’t had it in ages yes taxes are pretty high ok i’m back hey hey oh no not again lover stop snoring and make me go higher remember the Y2Ks how happy and free what happened to passion and smoking in bed and kissing and howling till then sun showed his face alright i get it we’ve been working all day good night my rocker my lover my friend

to trip

shivering in the bedroom

trying to find a slightly less mended Chanel

middle aged

anxiety on my tongue

finger nail polished half chewed off

scar tissue protrudes on my left knuckle

the difference in the mosh pits was

we all beat

each other up together

the other morning i went out

to see some band play

they weren’t quite what i remembered

slower thicker grayer

yet still crazy

jacked up rockin

in some of our heads

high on beet juice and weed

when i stand in my room

i don’t want to just be rockin in my head

i should go to the beauty clinic

and laser off this scar

but i’m not ashamed by it

besides i might read Bukowski in the waiting room

and offend some old Barbie

i’d like to be banged by that bass player

and have him pluck on my thing

and then there’s Beck on Mt. Washington

singing Spanish riffs into the mike

the band has never heard of me

but we both know how to twirl and punch

and they have to go home to their wives

standing in my bedroom

my moves aren’t quite as swift

the best band i ever knew went disco

and the new bands lack the rage

i try to start the mosh pit

and give the bass player my number

but they twitter about health


yoga things

beet juice recipes

CBD things

i watch the boba settle in my milk tea

i know what my fate is

but it’s too gruesome to process

i won’t land the bassist


rain and Halloween 14 lost boygirl

LA let’s play East H is the oyster

let’s go nowhere what have i got to lose

streaks of time fingers and others touching

what was part of a dowry gone poisoned

my turn to burn the cancer of this pain

rage shame weakness and hate

the mark of incomprehensible

where did it go wrong

i’ll say it plain

they took my innocence

my sense of self

spirit and mind

and you expect me to shut up

the weed is grown

and life takes course

confusion sets the stage

and the ocean swallowed me whole

to need

sometimes my convictions are

not enough to soothe

the pain of the

weight of life so

i go into my

closet dig in my

cardboard box where i

keep the rosary i

found in the mud

behind one of the

homes i grew up


inside between the breastplate and the heart there’s a tiny little nook with an itsy blue butterfly her name is soul and she came to be in the mountains of Kashmir when the atoms were still babes blue prints in the grand masters eyes soul lodges there time immemorial and waits measures holds back explodes forward what the mind judges to do at times mostly in the dead of night soul flutters a little spirit revs up becoming restless and soul makes it right she spreads  here sky blue wings to dry the tears welling in my eyes blue soul corner stone of secrets and filter of the lies the weary life the prices paid to walk in fields of grandeur right before crystalline morning comes mind rages war on blue life soul her wings crushed under a stream of poison

pour toi, Charlie

the cattails sway slow

resin sun settles down deep

she has blazed all day

moon in silver comes

knocking at my back window

dig his Elvis suit

then E Piaf croons

tears brim in my tired eyes

never did i miss

you so much as i

do now even with all of

our misunderstood

way of saying words

to drive each other away

fearing that our hearts

would be ripped apart

by anemic attempts to

share a normal life

you the older one

did not necessarily

know best i was young

i did not know that

fucking my way through real love

in time would never

heal our broken parts

still not all was a failure

truth and wine reveal

haiku for Petra

endlessness of night

honeysuckle’s soft weeping

stars dull one by one

in plain sight

humming birds cooed outside your tiny trailer

not a coincidence

French café table coffee can ash tray

the drying bamboo shoots

tender green leaves into the cool air

some nights looking

out from the yellow laundry room window

the sparks from the

slender lit cigarette mimics the fire flies

that live in

the imagination of a confused neglected child

old brown eyes know

they are watched and relish the thought