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“Beyond the Glades”

15 Feb

“Beyond the Glades”

There is a fountain of you

pretending to give a gift

for what is swallowed never lasts

and what is eventual but elemental

is cut from existence

from who we wanted to love

from all bitterness scraped to its roots

and green eyes cry through ferns

in everlasting everglade canoe couples

and moonlight kisses

cuddle in public

in sorrow

with frog body suits

stitched to our shadows

an immediate jumping off point

to fall in love again in slow motion

as our blood is collected

to ice skate in the same circles

as roses bloom beneath the swamps

and trapdoors in attics open

from the heat of you.

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“This is Our Moment”

8 Feb

“This is Our Moment”

And counting the flashbulbs

we fell in love twice

to the hum of stars and rainbows

this mirror’s lie of a reflection

and reflections turn away

burnt tulips anyway

our dreams are fountains

to flash away this instant

when instincts turn to thoughts

lost cheetahs in the blood

gold-flecked tongue click

alone in an instant on

one desperate bullet

crying away the wind through wilderness

and all your dresses studded with bows

a fountain to found you

and four feet, the darkest shadow cast

I’ll be with you in springtime wine

both beautiful tulip everlasting

echoing down drain after drain

we’re crocodiles in love

veins fit for bursting

this beautiful smile

creamy as cake after cake

and deserted to no one

on a desert of vast winds.

“Unusual Princesses Gone Anymore”

30 Jan

“Unusual Princesses Gone Anymore”

If we could tell you

what it feels like to be a man

you wouldn’t believe us

just as we might linger

to light this hanging plant aflame

days, our passing

forests, our rivers

how many years, blossoms,

travesties to the blood

lead me this snakeskin plank

we’d both be one girl

gartered legs strip balsa wood

a radioactive toucan monsters the night

to sleep only in baggy shirts

our knees honey, the abs a closed fist

spinning emerald eyes could be a curse

to fulfill a puppet’s desires

a leather spirit transformed to dust

tattooed in envy

a whisper of bones

the red river of desire

if only I had known you

flown feathers with the tiara

glinted fangs

teary eyes of you

silver blanket erupt to rash

the blouse knew

kisses to your lonesome

blamed brains

a river shot full of head cases.

“I Already Forgot About Tomorrow”

16 Jan

“I Already Forgot About Tomorrow”

You’ll be proud of my fortunate beeswax

I stare at you for a thousand hours

and how leaks to me

tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow

we’ll part in endless sorrow

and hold to grasp this locket always

for photographs of beating hearts

and your frosty lipstick

bound to the tip of each throb

and though the frogs may mock us

devilish goose: your shadow hands

and noises in the garden

to bend your scepters

to walk away from a house on fire

down lonely alleys

in streaked jester masks

itchy hangnails

quaking thighs ready to spring

or ribbit, for ribs of some shame

call collect to the beast of you

torn silhouettes for lost marksmanship

for every flower a terrible meow

lemons spent infinite darkness.

“I Almost Died to the Fight of You”

13 Jan

“I Almost Died to the Fight of You”

I wanted to walk alone

through mousetraps

to get my teeth wet

and furred feet

to suck the skin off my body

and kiss in the shadows of angel wings

I’m in heaven for there is no trouble

or hummingbird wings mumbling

and through darkness

we’ve all wept

on smoothed gravestones

swept lonely

I cower in leeches

and all the seas of black and blues

to die in the thought of you.

“In This Life”

4 Jan

“In This Life”

In this life

and all harm

comes only to crows

but crowns and seashells

we’ll dress in seaweed

say goodbye to our filial heartbeats

never meant a thorn

or really any true blue blushes

we have this set tonight

but everyone will fall asleep in flowers

it’s too hollow

but if we stay underwater

in this river

our hair and gravity might float away

clean hearts

it’s a slice of molten life

I used to be your neighbor

or a friend

I’m still looking for you

hold my barbwire hand

skip back through the days

I’ll still have my Rolodex

somewhere in a yearbook

with my old self gone too silent now

I’m still as the rocks

and that’s love.

“Maybe Somebody Will Answer”

18 Dec

“Maybe Somebody Will Answer”

As if the drugs weren’t enough,

the animal in the garage

has eaten the leather whips

too feisty to withstand

the waves to suck the silence from you

I’ve forgotten to keep in touch

like I’d prefer a promise

but waves save the answer

become more beautiful to only you

we have no use of you any longer

there is a blue parakeet in the window

we lion you

leaf the life blood from the life flaps

preserve and preserver

for life and endless

and your lie kisses

fill of strawberry and blood

all my pain wants more

and pleasure knows

and doves

a heart to withstand anything

the cold wings of obsession are clean

for all the closed shops

and the screams

our town is nowhere

we’re asleep on a starry ship at night

drifting through a forest of ice

I’d give our shadow to everybody.

“Missing You While You’re Here”

2 Nov

“Missing You While You’re Here”

Push too hard but in my defense

a shadow washing over you

but to defend in triplicate

as if to us great poetry

could be born one last time

but in my defense

you were here but gone

to him and him and only him

the news a tragic rope

to gun it fast I get off work at ten

and spurs blur to yellow-jackets

let unhappiness be harmed

and truly great poetry be answered

in strangers’ kisses

friends left us behind

in clouds of sugar cars

nothing could make you stay

could make you do poetry in firelight

don’t talk for a century

don’t talk in poetry

mistaken you:

you’re not gone.

Review: Killing Commendatore by Haruki Murakami

27 Oct

Wells are for bells, swift slices, gory paintings, tunnels to everywhere, forgotten footsteps, enchanted afternoons, impeccable burglaries, locked in the locket of house’s owls, sultry sketches, devious daydreams, disappearing drives, lawful indiscretions, lonely afternoons, mysterious paternity, talking to elves in the painting, the unseen sands that draft at night, the empty refrigerator, stone portraits, romantic graveyards, tea-filled tires, jaguar breaths, silk bathrobe ties, stained drawings, war crimes, famine, the soul of Bluebeard, the rags of finery, meaningless piles of money to set aflame, and spies will be your friends.         

New story (“The Basement People”) published!

28 Sep

Psyched to be part of this anthology. My tribute to Legs McNeil & Gillian McCain’s PLEASE KILL ME, Bauhaus’s BURNING FROM THE INSIDE, and…well, you get the idea…is about a sentient cloud of animal limbs! It’s called “The Basement People.” It is available here (at Clash Books) or here (at Amazon).