Month: October 2008

life and then

poetry

streets painted with
blue lights glowing up through
mortar cracks through brick
holes next to old houses
mansions perhaps once filled
with concubines or slaves
but we stop for a nice
dinner at a ‘french’
restaurant just like life was then
red lanterns and all

now gone again

sometimes late at night i’m so very tired its difficult for me to think and so i settle into a pattern of just feeling instead. i don’t want to sound like a woman, but sometimes emotion is easier than rational thought. is that chauvinistic somehow? it seems chauvinistic

poetry

times like these are sad
and past
because we long
for hopes we do not understand
and smells on which
we can look back
to remember music which makes us glad
and then nostalgia causing
distress

fant-assy

poetry

i’d like a perfect ass
on which to sit
others would stare as i’d
saunter by

i’d seldom clean it
and let it defecate wherever it
should please
it’d look so good no one would mind
but stare as i pass by

wishing they had an ass
like mine
instead of gas guzzling
tin asses

mine would produce natural gas
my ass

and i’d call him Juan

dear dear dear dear

poetry

you remember
the things you do while
alone that you think
no one can see
and you stomach the days
knowing the ways
that you throw all you say
to the sea

when your alone

and your back

is turned

to the world

and what you really love
and what you really hate
and what you really think
and what you really do
and how you cope
and how i hope
you choke on all the
blood you drew

when your alone

and you think

i’m not

watching

friday

poetry

each motion intentionally synced
to induce thoughts of another individual
in a state of near meditation
but more active prayer
hand after hand foot after foot
precision
perfection
years of practice

Thoughts upon visiting the home of my brother-in-law’s supremely rich friend

poetry

being rich would be nice
because then I could spend
all day everyday
watching my 7
ridiculously large plasmas,

drinking from my private bar
while talking to my
private bar-tender brian
and watching my 7
ridiculously large plasmas,

wandering through the jungle out back
drinking from my private bar
while talking to my
private bar-tender brian
and watching my 7
ridiculously large plasmas,

swimming in the pool
while wandering through the jungle out back
drinking from my private bar
while talking to my
private bar-tender brian
and watching my 7
ridiculously large plasmas,

sexing my wife
swimming in the pool
while wandering through the jungle out back
drinking from my private bar
while talking to my
private bar-tender brian
and watching my 7
ridiculously large plasmas,

and doing naught else

night. berlin ’99

poetry

silence causing snow falling on
cobble stone empty roads
lined with trees we duck to pass
under the leaves as we walk this
peaceful night

the first time you knew snow
‘i want a flake to land on my eyelash’
you beam as we skip then walk
hoping we wont get where we’re going
passing by a statue of an italian chef
daily specials written in words we cant comprehend
we go inside to watch the air battle the
white bombardment
the ground begging to lose the fight
slowly being buried under blankets of white

walking home its quieter now
only one light on the street as our feet seek
to glide to the crevasses between worn brick
hoping for surer footing
and i know this night is salvation
when you light with joy and begin to cry

‘look look! a flake on my eyelash’