Moist air hung like stolen silk around her A stingy crescent dangled in the full-moon- feeling sky She knew her heart too heavy ... for a gypsy Pieced together from borrowed feelings Puffed at the seams by wasted sighs Tossed on top her newest dreams already fading Tangled hopes bound loosely an unraveled love (Why had she kept this thing?) Memories scattered on the bottom like misprinted cards of fate: Missing faces absent hearts too many spades.
dawn's wet rhapsody that drips and trickles from the tips of sculpted hair slides down pairs of ancient breasts and poises on each nipple perpetually prime milk-warm marbled statues or alabaster cool who can know how deep these rivers run or what they hide from antiseptic tiles in silent echoes flesh moves fluidly long pale fingers dance (white-robed fairies on cocoa-buttered bellies) daylight boxed but no less bold approves as if shoulders should be morning-moist as if statues find life in mirrors as if women belong in sets of two
Surfacing before I can encounter What evilness came seeping through the dark My lips dare almost speak, almost offer Up the wicked sound of what you are. The essence of it burns instead. Pure fear Keeps me stiffly silent in your hour. Each shape, a second coming, as I stare At thicknesses and movements in the night I close my eyes a moment and you're here The moon's a pierced letting go of light Curtains swoon like ghosts upon a hill The shadows part and hiss, then take to flight You have your way, for I have not my will. All is finally over. Over. Still.
entombed you have left me for dead my face drawn for your pleasure drawn too pale too perfect for your pain alone I must bear this heaving casket the same that you could lift or drop and desecrate with your words you taught me what a life is worth my petals turned black on the stem for you you buried me the air rejects my screams
The rope once tight enough must be led with gently. A too tight run like hell away from here could choke a guy to death. Worse than this life. What we once believed is always true. We pray and wait for the answer of a tightening noose. Tightening. Feeling. Still. Unless we pull our whole self up on the lap of the strangler to offer ourselves to him in this endless paradigm. We fear not believing in fear of life and death and what we must give up to give in. Minds convinced of what our hearts are not. Death as certain as this understanding between us.
Slate-flat and slanted to dip into the river with it's sole occupants, young and omnipotent one-half alone From this gray rugged throne, our toes became comical puppet-fish minnows in bright red caps Practicing curious kisses and silly nibbles on the rock, the water, themselves Cool and hot that summer like the menthols that we smoked there as we flicked our adolescent ashes, just so You sang Marilyn to me, your pale lips close enough to coax the words from mine You played the part so sexy like a real woman would and you were good I'd smiled, confused that you broke the rules that you'd broken through with this sudden closeness Even more confused that you'd pulled away
He felt fuzzy around the edges like Schlitz- blue neon after liquid bites of Cuervo-Gold. Startled flashes filled and then emptied themselves from the cold, dark room where he wondered with the thunder what it might be like to go electric. To surge with uncharacteristic power. To listen above a room as a hot fluorescent hum. To rage strike and move on. Or would it be more of the same? Following the path of least resistance. Putting in the kilo-watt hours. Making any connection on a desperate night. Static. For one final over and out.
run with me (live death with me) in your darkness as words pour slowly over us like liquid silk thin images drip as poisoned ink from a clear dream sky and all fears fall behind us to puddle into a laughter as you run with me from your darkness into mine
The instructor suggested that we study bread, "Become the bread" went through my head. I loafed around that evening and wondered thoroughly about the proper bread to "be" to give rise to perfect poetry. "A study of wholeness? Of crumb? Or of slice? Pumpernickel, plain white or Seeded Rye?" I kneaded these important thoughts three quarters of an hour, recalled that I was out of bread and wondered, then, of flour.
With one horrified gasp, the night nurse fainted. She was six month pregnant herself, you know. As she melted to the antiseptic tiles her lips dripped to her chin like a broken red crayon on a summer sidewalk. They were all thay had not been shocked into blending with her scrubbed white exterior. Well... there were those benevolent blue eyes sneaking pity to me as the orderlies were rolling the unsuccessful chameleon away. Did she find a new comfort in the soft, smoothness of her cocoa-buttered belly? Will she come to realize that she need not have felt sorry for me? I wear no badges of honor. I claim no scars of war. I love what they are to me: bold and exotic, natural and free -- I am the lady with stripes.
One more look, and she's gone blending into a scene she knows well. She's so real they can't tell and as true time ticks on they don't know they saw a chameleon.
you behind me rustling leaves I hear you there you above me a gift feather floats to my hair you beside me in I breathe you like the air you inside me illuminate being budding there
maybe once you thought you might be famousbut not like this
layers of greys in a semi-charred chair feet still slippered thin stiff legs of a porcelin doll
all at once you were consumed finally, from within you never knew what happened or in a fateful stupor you watched as you became a human wick for an ungodly candle smoke, your own flesh burning filled your lungs you were gone before your skin split open gone before your fat rendered and burned high and long
Slivers of steel jagged blades spikes of ice your service is aimed for a dark suprise I toss your unanswered color like a double fault back to you with one glance you found out I don't care for your cold blue eyes
slick silver quick silver menacing mind tease the young ladies quite crazy for your design in your super plan super man are you so kind or do you let'em weep while you keep markin' the time
Don't tell your secrets to blue shoes. Try pink shoes lazy summers with tafetta thoughts. Or red shoes that dance and drip with secrets of their own. Forget the black shoes they're to uptight to listen or to care. There's always brown shoes soft and safe like well-trained pets. Blue shoes love to linger and bring excitement where they walk But blue shoes always talk.
ink streaked paper lines of rage cycled thoughts turning page blackest memories oldest lies largest anguish smallest size words in mind won't sit still "Words can't hurt you." words can kill
Meeting with you was such a rush I'd be high for a week The world became safe slightly maternal giggling with me as I floated, then pressed through the bubblegum walls of a womb suddenly too small I'd be so high there was no up there was no down
only you sweetly spinning my world
Seductive, steamy dusky fare your scent lays heavy in the air Invigorating liquid life my craving is for you Intriguing heat, impassioned lips with sensual, then eager sips your warmth and strength draw me to you I draw you into me
Satin slippers drip into a rug that smells like tar. The abandoned, pregnant mailbox waits out another rain. Eyes draped like curtains. Curtains draped like death. Her friends try to reach through the poisonous haze. But there are no Friends on her bathrobe days.
plucking sugar-drunken plums from stolen pies sticky fistedand scowling, that Theymay be satisfied
but underneath a smile drips sweet from a taste acquired even at this price I lick from my wrists purple syrup veins greedy for another slice
I think I've caught the flu You might have caught it too 'Cause I get funny little tingles Every time I think of you. Embarassing to say I get them many times a day My nights are filled with tingles (I don't get much sleep that way!) Of course, I can't be sure But I think I know the cure For these funny little tingles Ah, who knows? It may cause more!
A lock, a key, a destiny A word, a thought, a thinker A pause, a look, an ecstacy A hook a Line A sinker
Eyes, the shadows of fire Fear (awesome fear) thickens my center Father, Mother, Furor, All you were in that moment after that moment All is gone Midnight air as warm and moist as tears kissing shudders past you the stars still jump for you my breathing my thumping heart night shadow pours from open window absorbs you like a son spills a solemn oil over floor, up blanket annoints my flesh darkens my tears
full, too full rippling sapphire dark draw from me take from me my breath, like time my hope, like passion hollow me hollow me
The stars and other things equally unattainable line up sometimes. (now, yes now) Despite this fear of no, I feel how I used to feel. What if the same stars move you too? What if you are remembering how it was as I am remembering how it used to be?
her consistency is noticed by judges 2 and 5 strong steady gazes place her way ahead with wit that's noted as "endearing" (exhibits "joy to alive") she wins, and with a perfect smile drops dead
everything and Spring pauses to kiss towards efflorescence upturned hands with dainty fingers adorned in flights of pink butterflies, soon living raindrops that tumble if Spring fancies into a brilliantocean sky
Icy steel slices through the emergency Raw emotions like naked children shriek and hide Awake the death of dreams and bleary eyes
They dragged her from the closet and she spit when they reminded that the rules would be changed again today. Today was to be More Comfortable. Today was a Better Day. Today would be oak and varnish moans in her namesake's favorite rocker. Though the cars and the trees would mock her: "Crazy Jane, Crazy Jane, Crazy Jane."
Paper Heart Paper cut-out person with your paper cut-out mind pretending not to be so paper-real. I rip one into two right where a paper heart should be. Your perfect paper face keeps paper-smiling back at me. Like you have never no really, ever had so much fun. ------------------ Angry Child pure white paper scissors snip color color clip clip paper doll standing tall one black crayon now not at all
Steam rises from between frail hands that cup to borrow warmth The window frost frames white-robes fairies layering themselves for rest Worn-weary slippers heave a long, bleak sigh carry sadness to the den Where red and yellow fingers point to silver in the mirror and a face framed silver on the mantle is all that's left of remembered years silver, side by side, remembering tears unraveling, in the winter years
The light seeps through to you - too late A stiff eclipse it crumbles Discolored shards now spindled widows Thrashing limbs in terror Disintigrate in the stench of you You who call life a death and death a lie Lie down, dark horse lie down though you never die
Out of myself too long to be denied Find me Find me I'll tell you where I hide Touch me Touch me don't I think I lied Tell me please how loose what I lock inside
"Much too bright for the sun" says the sparrow "She belongs to the night" caws the crow Like a paper doll through a liquid rainbow I go "Look! She melts from the pain!" (worried sparrow) "She brings Death to the night!" (cackling crow) Like a paper doll through a liquid rainbow I go "Too much red! She will die!" screams the sparrow "It is life. She will live." dead-man's crow Like a paper doll through a liquid rainbow I go
At last I am someone else
slow dark eyes wide shadows absorbed memories like gauze now everything is antiseptic except those damning eyes in every mirror seeing me knowing everything
essentially someone else a specific quantity which when added to itself equals zero. Nothing said of me is true for long. I am truth postponed, disputed and denied. Subtraction of me has not yet been defined.
