Sunday, December 11, 2011

A Set of My Poems

I Couldn’t Stand

As mortifyingly WONDERFUL
            as all my past relationships
                        have been
with their stiletto knife tears
            ravaged voice boxes
threats of being committed
            (to an asylum and each other)
the locked door cage matches
                        broken finger pointing
guarded litanies of EXCUSES
after evening reports
            of who what when where WHY?!?!?!

I’m taking my jealous
and crushing it to pulp
I’m burning the red-flags
            and all the obnoxious
            YOU CLAIM TO LOVE.

Agreeing with me
            IS NOT
a precondition for my affection
Your day job is not
                        making me happy
Your night job is not
            constantly considering
my needs
and hoping you don’t
            do something inadvertently
                        TO PISS ME OFF.

That’s not what you were doing
when I fell in love with you.

It pleases me
for you to go right on
the you
I couldn’t stand
                        to be apart from


Fucking Sisyphus

O I’m gonna tell you
what really turns me on –
it’s someone tapped into
the lost art of a lost cause
someone giving up
on the whole lousy world
and then choosing to go on
knowing there is no reason to do so
            but the doing.

Fucking Sisyphus, man!
Nothing gets my panties wet
like a man or a woman
heavy lifting some god-forsaken
boulder up a mountainside
watching them chase it down again.

This is not the same
as tripping over the same stone.
I like deliberate futility –
going in with eyes unveiled
to the purposeless purpose.
Sisyphus had his eyes wide open
he didn’t trip or fall,
I know. Because if he had
I’d been sure to be underneath
him when he did.
His eyes were open, and seeing,
he knew his path all too well.

O if you want to woo me,
tell me about your apathy
how you woke this morning
with a choice between
a shower and a suicide
and decided to get clean,
opened the windows
to let the morning air in
before taking yourself
            up the hill again –
and I’m in.

You, shaking your fist at the wind
hollering at the fall leaves falling
putting caterpillars into therapy
telling them they don’t have
            to change
writing poems on torn napkins
and asking me to
stuff those words down my pants
anything useless, outrageous
that asks too much
and takes too much
and I’m all

Fucking Sisyphus, man!
That’s what I’m thinking about
alone in my bed tonight
with my left hand
between my thighs
and my right hand
            on this pen

getting off on this poem.

No Name

To call this intersection
of paths
is like calling the ocean
a storm cloud
we do not name things
for what they could
or will be
we name them
for what they are

which makes this
            whatever it is
something unnamed
because we are inventing
it as it emerges

I have my terrified moments
I write secret notes
and slip them in an envelope
with fire and magnets
addressed to you

I have my pleasures
thinking of your green walls
and I know you’d rather
see me dolorosa
but you awaken me.

with you I have two hearts.

I will not call the seed
a tree,
nor the tree a house
I will not call the fire
a destroyer
or a candle

I will not name this.

The idea is

you get your ass
by killers
who worked
on chain gangs
who can open
beer bottles
with their teeth
and gargle

They get you
on the ropes
with a 1-2
a right hook
they break
your nose, then
they make
you get back up.

The idea is
you get your jaw
knocked to the floor
you get to offer
no excuses
you put your own
teeth back in
the blood
and walk back
on the job
the next day
with your chin

You look those
in the eye
and say

I’m ready.

The idea is
that if you
take your lickings
for being a dumb-shit
and keep going
back to those
brighter, tougher
learn enough
to stop


Even though I love you telling me no

My panther of the yellow eyes
and cagey pacing,
when your black body
stinking of meat
leapt back into bed
next to me
with your kamikaze purr
and then
when your huge paws
wrapped me in tight
to the lank of your body
teeth so very near
but no, never touching
the neck I always
leave exposed for you
and you told me
you wanted to die like this
gripped in a savage cat’s embrace
face to face
with whiskers and fangs,
I wondered about the surety
of not leaving this life alone.

We both know
this is the kind of question
with no answer.

How do I prove
I love someone?
Is it true my body
ends at the skin
and the wide, starry void
is separate from me?
How do you know
I’ll keep my promises?

Let’s stick to questions
with answers.

Are you here right now?
Am I in your feral arms?
Do we dream?

Yes, panther, yes.

I let your claws open me.

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