Answering the Call

Fuck you William Carlos Williams!


THE REST OF IT GOES HERE
Answering the Call
Through rain-beaded glasses
I see you standing alone
across the street
in a red party dress
smoking a white cigarette
beneath the green awning
so much depends on this,
I think to myself,
surprised by the thought:
an Alice in Wonderland poster
is affixed to the window to your left
It’s late on a Friday night
and somehow we’re alone
I light a Pall Mall
to steel my courage
Are you the woman
with lots of cash
whom my dad’s
always telling me to meet?
he also says
don’t talk to strangers
so I’m frozen for a moment
not sure what to do.
But then you motion
with a white-gloved hand
for me to come
you take my hand
we enter the store
and find ourselves
staring at a long table
covered with a red and black
checkered table cloth
behind which sits
the Mad Hatter
Would you like to stay for beer, he says
Don’t you mean tea? I say
My name’s Emily, the girl says
I’ll like to stay if you do.
Or maybe you’re otherwise preoccupied?
the Mad Hatter says
You followed me for a reason, didn’t you?
Emily says
I didn’t want to mention
the cash or how much she had,
at that moment it seemed moot
Emily’s cartoonish eyes
were the same eyes as the animated
princesses I fell in love with
in preschool when I first
became addicted to beauty
and the idea of woman
But what about--
I thought of my obligations
my jobs, my friends
they’ll be fine, Emily says
your friends will be glad
that you’ve finally found
a home at the end of your path
and your jobs?--fuck ‘em--
you’ll never have to work here,
Look!
I followed the sweep
of her delicate white fingers
and as far as I could see
there were kegs of beer
then the archangel Michael appears
with pizza
So you say Yes?
the Mad Hatter says
Emily hands me a chilled mug,
unbuttons her shirt
Hell yes


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A Toddlers Art

My Smithsonian Refridgerator


Can you please do something about these magnets
The are clogging up the entire area we need
Holding coupons, quotes, pictures, grocery lists
And now I want to display my daughters drawings
At least the one's that contain more than one color

You see, this is a sacred area to me
This space should remain void without crayons
Or at least until the crayons are broken by vision
My daughter has visions of beauty in her mind
And we need to display them now, on the fridge
Even if they look like scribbles to you

She told me it was a house, with birds that are funny
So it is, I say, and smile, for she see's exactly what I do
Scribbles that are so perfect they mean everything
To My wife, to me and to my daughter
And you want to display coupons for butter
And cereal
And Bread
Where is the art in that?



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One Worker's Homicidal Ideations

Merry . . .


THE REST OF IT GOES HERE
One Worker’s Homicidal Ideations
When I think of myself
which is often
I think of myself
as a nice guy
but at work
my thoughts turn to murder
I’m thinkin’ of you old ladies
rattlin’ spoons against your coffee cups
as if this were a wedding reception
but I’m no groom with a bride to kiss
I’m the waiter who’s puzzled by your greed
to keep your sad lives going.
you frown at me and clang for more
your pathetic tiny blue-veined hands
shake before my poised coffee pot
with the impatience of babies
who should’ve never been born
do you trust me bitches
as I begin to pour
hoping to scald your hands,
your heads, your hearts,
out of existence.
how dare you treat a human being
like a pet to be barked at
not all dogs bite when abused
but I do
hey asshole sports fans, white guys in the corner
wearing the “these colors don’t run” t-shirts
my co-worker friend came to me shakin‘,
saying you take ‘em mike--
they called me a nigger
ok ok, I said, placing their 3 cokes and an ice tea
on my tray--
I’ll be your server now I said
one of them said, other guy couldn’t take it huh?
then smiled so smug
I wanted to punt that goddamn smile through
the goalposts of Canada--
Oh Can-a-da . . .
you motherfuckers! I hope they pitch you
into a pile of maple leaves
and set you on fire
I place their drinks on another table
come and get ‘em!
get me your manager, they say
we’ll get you fired
I say, the manager’s a friend of mine, stupid
I’ll meet you out back in twenty minutes
one plus one is two
the customer’s free
the worker’s not
and of course it’s true
we cum in your food
or worse
if you treat us like slaves
and when you fire one of us
or cause one of us to get fired
without good cause
are you surprised
that one of your children dies
like the bum on the street
you don’t care about--
are you that stupid
average slaves quarters in 1860
had more square feet per person
than average studio apartments
in this city in 2008
Hey boss!
you give us a paycheck for this misery
so we can choose our slave quarters
so we can choose our ramen noodles,
our McChickens, our six packs of PBR for $3.99
and you expect us not to want to kill you
are you fuckin’ retarded?
USA! USA! USA!
I’ll work for you bitch
for your manifest destined
bullshit wars against brown people
for your economic machine
for your green-backed heart
for your George Washingtons,
Jeffersons,
Roosevelts,
Clintons,
Bushes
aristocratic not-give-a-shits-
about-the working-poor
U-S-A
U-S-A Today written at a third-grade level
Isn‘t it fun being red white blue
and stupid like everyone else?
Years later a little girl
screams at my raised bottle of mayonnaise
I said mustard
how cute her white communion dress will be
with fuck you scrawled
in mustard across the place
where one day her haughty tits will be
saying it’s not her fault but her parents
or society’s is a cop out
it’s their fault too
but she said it, she’s already a bad person,
she is who she is
in the cool vengeance of the now
I’ll break her neck in half like a sandwich,
relish the tender loins of her hate, belch
then scratch myself
If I don’t stop her who will?
is it wrong to want to kill the children who will
assume positions in this edifice of the vicious?
This attitude can’t be healthy
I’ll try to get over it
but it’s my experience of work,
23 years, 2 and a half million minutes
it’s my experience of being unfree.
otherwise I’m a nice guy
ask my friends,
ask me on a day off Read more!

Turns Out I'm Just a Hack Who Wants to Get Laid

Ho! Ho! Ho!


THE REST OF IT GOES HERE
Turns Out I’m Just a Hack Who Needs to Get Laid
(for my next latest crush, wherever I may find her/him)
I shouldn’t write a poem about this
because you’re here tonight
and you know I writing about you
and our shared friends know as well
this might cause some awkwardness
it’s a risk like going to a doctor
a car mechanic, a guru,
but all your talk about not being afraid,
about going for what we really want,
about stating clearly what the vision is
for the new year has inspired me.
you’re the tangible rainbow whose warmth
I can hold, whose flesh I could taste and taste
what the colors know,
whose blood I draw from the bite of love
is the salt and the sweet of the sex of time
you make me happy
it’s been a long time
since I’ve felt this way
in a way--
I haven’t felt since my last first kiss
with a woman I wanted to work out a life with,
that narrow interval like a crack in a wall
that sun shines through
where all that is possible has not yet warred with fear,
has not yet clamped its ears from the screaming no,
has not yet felt the punch in the gut
of let’s just be friends
it’s not so bad, it’s not so bad
My friends are like beer
I’d never reject another
so welcome to my friendship list
it’s packed and growing and I’m glad
it’s not so bad as my Kindergarten teacher
Mrs. Jackson telling me in front of the class
that I was a problem the universe
had no interest in solving
it’s not so bad
as my first lover telling me
that her more mature lover
was better in bed,
it’s not so bad
as my mother running to her room
to cry because she thinks I’m mentally ill
every time I visit for the holidays
and open my mouth about
answering the latest call to adventure
I shouldn’t write a poem about this
but you make me wanna write
like I know what I’m doin’
like you’re the face of beauty
I was born to kiss
like fuck the sunset, fuck the sunrise
fuck the birds! fuck the birds!
I prefer your song to theirs--
the way you say my name
like I’m not crazy
like I’m a man who maybe
can love you in the way I desire
like maybe you could desire the same
like maybe you just need a little time
to maybe say yes to these lips
to this goatee,
to this bald head
and to the dark hot nights of our future
like maybe we’re still young
like the century is young,
like the Millennium is young
Is it wrong that I wanna part your mouth
with the organ of the spoken word,
or maybe put it in your ear
to kick up the heat of friendship
with a heat greater than words
my tongue wants to do
a lot of things with you
but it’s not up to me
like it’s not up to a believed in god
to save a 7-year-old boy cowering beneath the covers
because a tornado’s comin’ and his mother’s not home
from her card party
like it’s not up to a father to be sensitive
and turn off the radio’s traumatizing weather alerts
no the universe is funny that way
the will the want the need the desire
is half the story at best
the other half is free as she must be
to say no or yes or I don’t know
to the lusty storms that I have planned
to the sunny after-scenes that I have dreamed,
to the I wanna kiss you here
then there and oh oh there
and not just on the cheek
as the warm fuzzy friendly
paradigm dictates
I do not regret this poem
because my love is here to hear it
and whatever seed I have left to spray
will be sprayed because I’ve said it
aloud in this temple of love,
smelling of booze, smoke and poets
this poem is for you too my darlings
because if she ultimately says no
and we settle for friends for life
which I’d be fine with
know this--
boys and girls
I’m coming for you
because I love to be loved
in the ways I wanna be loved
which is every fuckin’ way there is to love
and my boundaries are oh
so thin I can taste you like
the sweet mint lip gloss of tomorrow’s dream,
tomorrow’s poem, tomorrow’s need Read more!

Rearview Mirror

If you're looking for a sign,
you missed it,
you blew past it
miles back,
driving far too fast
with your eyes closed tightly,
to shut out the sight
of what's not there anymore.
If you're looking for answers,
they're in the back of the book--
but only to odd-numbered questions.
The rest you'll have to find on your own.
The future can only be as good
as what you make of the past,
and you've forgotten
all that made me love you.
Everything changes,
eventually,
and I'm no exception.
I cracked my neck,
and it all came clear--
no wonder I couldn't see,
with our combined breathing
fogging up the windows
of your car,
hand prints on the glass,
toe prints on the windshield...
I realized that your absence
isn't what's been suffocating me--
I've been holding my breath,
and now the other foot has dropped,
so I can start again.
Keep on driving, beautiful,
and don't look back.
I know I won't anymore.
Read more!

xmas haiku2

Children forced to sing
Santa drinks and smokes alone
Bullets mute the song


THE REST OF IT GOES HERE
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xmas haiku

Bums rattle their cups
Umbrellas, packages, hunched
Yuletide misery


THE REST OF IT GOES HERE
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Spit Shine

Quick!!!!!


Dont forget to close the door behind you
As you sleep I can smell your thoughts
And sometimes I can taste my tears
In your laughter
Boo!!
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Dreams, Scars, Memories

Cemetary Winds blow colder


I'm afraid it's too late for regret
This time, per chance, we have said too much
Or not enough, or nothing at all

This time it's too late to curse at scars
And see the yellow bellies of yesterday
As fresh thoughts or new ideas

For how can I speak to a name...
A name written on a stone in a yard
And expect some sort of logical response
From the face reading "1979-2007"

How can I laugh at memories we were planning
And never got to live?
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Missing

The loss of a friend


A man with a giant hole greets me in the morning

He follows me around throughout the day

And says goodnight with a whimper or a growl.

His space is continually groomed for sobriety

A word of hope lies just an opened door away

But this man has no energy to open it



For this misery is not temporary

Or done by choice, in fact

This hole has a name attached to it

And his passing leaves it forever dark
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[my lips are] Turning Blue

Your hands
were as cold as ice,
but somehow, your touch
felt like fire.
Your voice
reached inside my dreams,
as your frozen fingers clutched
and slowly squeezed,
gripping tightly,
leeching my warmth
as I stole your corruption
and eased you to sleep.
I learned that hearts
are made of glass,
that, even melted, they can shatter,
and the scars are always
more than skin deep.
You slide through the shadows,
you say I can't follow--
even though I'm already there
when you arrive.
How many times,
before you believe--
how loudly do I have to scream
for this to be real?
[can I hold my breath long enough
to forget you exist?]
Read more!

Winter Wedding

[sleep dep = twisted fairytale suicidal snow white thingy?]


It's gonna be an
ice cold
winter wedding,
red-stained bedding,
who knew the pain that comes with shredding
lives, dreams...
flesh...

She woke up
and the window was open,
the cold had filled the room
overnight,
just an oversight,
though her cold feet felt
like a premonition.
In no condition
to face the world today--
she's all alone, cold to the bone,
the flesh is young,
but underneath there is only decay.
She tries to pray,
but the words ring hollow--
with convulsive swallows
she holds the pain inside,
already a corpse,
perfect winter bride.

[an ice cold
winter wedding,
no tears for shedding,
because dead eyes can't cry]

A shower
to cleanse the night sweats away,
but soap and water
can't reach
that deep,
not into a heart
that's frozen over--
winter's lover,
though she's not yet aware,
snow white queen of December's dreams,
the ground is waiting
to taste your lips, to show you he cares.
With a frozen stare,
she starts the ceremony
red, white, and ebony,
poison apple of steel,
now wait a few moments,
nothing left to feel.

It was an
ice cold
winter wedding,
blood-stained bedding,
who knew the joy that comes with shedding
life, dreams...
flesh...
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knock knock response

I'd throw the blanket of myself
around your soul to keep you warm
In other words, I'd be a friend
with an always-open door


THE REST OF IT GOES HERE
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Knock Knock

Knock knock--
is anyone there,
can you hear
how cold I am
waiting outside your door?


Are you sleeping by the fire?
Or huddled
in a dark corner,
shivering
with what might be fear,
or maybe just
the lack of human contact--
how long has it been
since someone touched you?

I see frost on your windows,
but the closer I get,
trying to peer inside,
the more my breath obscures the view.

Can you trust me?
I'm not a stranger,
or a salesman.
I just want to love you,
if you'll let me.
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Aftermath

We're not alright,
we're not okay,
it's not gonna be
better tomorrow.
Things won't make any more sense
in the light of day--
perhaps less than they did
at midnight last night
when the path was clear,
and the only way
to go
was up.

No,
we're past that point now,
past the point of no return--
bridges burned,
and now we have to learn
to deal
with the aftermath.

For every action there is
[energy cannot be]
an equal and opposite reaction
[created or destroyed]

So now tell me...

was it worth it?
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The Space Between

In the space between
waking and sleep,
I found you
unchanged.


In the place between
the music and the words
you told me
you love me still.

In my dreams
in your arms
I smiled and sighed
and died content.
Read more!

Where Do We Go From Here

Did you fake it,
will you take it away--
or will you stay?
Can you still say you care
in the way that you once did?

With three words,
you undid
two years of pain,
all the nights of regret,
and healed the scars
[though they haven't faded yet--
maybe with time...]
The stage is set
for a whole new chapter--
when will we get
to the ever after
part?
With my heart
on my sleeve, and you walking away,
I start
to wonder if this
was a blunder--
one night of bliss,
two days of wonder...
but where will we go from here?
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Once More, With Feeling

I remember now
how you looked
[walking away,
because you did it again]


Chest full of
a breaking heart
as your lips gave voice
to a lie
[no tears left--
but I could see them in your eyes]

Hairline cracks and
jagged edges,
crumbling walls

[so beautiful
in your shattered state
that I almost wish
I didn't ache
to piece you back together]

Can I fill the holes
with myself?
Read more!

[i need some more] Anesthetic

I wasn't wrong--
however much it hurts,
I still have that.

I'm tired,
I don't want to fight anymore,
despite the foulness
of what creeps in
when I let down my guard.

Yes, I feel it,
but care in the way
an apathetic ape would--
not at all.

The pain is no worse
than the rage,
and the smiles mean as much--
which is nothing.

I'm seeping away
through the cracks in my skin,
and it matters less
with every passing moment,
every drip-drip-drop
of splashing emotion
that leaks through my pores--

and I'll tell you...
it almost feels good.
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Sweet Nothings

Mostly,
you drive me crazy--
but sometimes,
you're the only thing
that keeps me sane.
Read more!

My Soul

My soul
is a testicle
that you keep
in your purse
may I have it back
please
it’s mine


THE REST OF IT GOES HERE
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Bird in a Cage

I'll drop from my stentorian perch when I'm dead!


THE REST OF IT GOES HERE

Bird In a Cage

we met in God’s true church,
you were 34,
gold-feather-haired
and married
I was a boy who clutched my bible
wanted to be one of God‘s apostles--
callow and green I bided my time
hot in my hands the book of God,
hot as the throne I placed you on
Yeshua, Yahveh, Jehovah,
El Shaddai, Elohim--
whatever the fuck
you wanna to be called
Let me be a bird
in a cage
and I’ll sing my poems for her
we left God’s true church
seek and I shall find
I bided my time
your husband fucked up
you divorced
you baptized me
in your turquoise room
you baptized me
with your mouth
into the church
of the spoken Word
and I entered the kingdom of God
tongue first
and I became
a bird in a cage
and I sing my poems for you
You declared me
my boy genius
but I am not
the ever-after lover of your dreams
but I wanna be
more than anything
left bereft with a choice
friendship or emptiness
trying to understand
what the fuck the little moans mean
as we kiss and we cry
on the porch near the pine
beneath
a weak
Michigan moon
you gave me 3 bloody screws
that were used to lift your face.
you said go forth and write,
my boy genius--
3 bloody screws
entwined with 3 blond hairs
on a bed of gauze
and I’m bird in a cage
and I sing my poems for you.
I’ve known other kingdoms
between other legs
but theirs are not God’s kingdom
between my wife’s legs
6 years later
the bible cold on a shelf
not God’s kingdom
and I’ve remained
a bird in a cage
and I sing my poems for you.
It says somewhere in Ecclesiastes
or the Song of Solomon
that love is sweet like wine
but complicated and dark
can make you a slave
a bird in a cage
I should’ve thought about this
I didn’t think
I bided my time
seek and I shall find
master, mother, lizard, lover
and turquoise is your favorite color
not to be
the ever-after lover of your dreams
but I wanna be
more than anything
your boy genius,
3 bloody screws on a bed of gauze
the kingdom of God between your legs
the bible I tear apart into pieces
page by goddamn page
baptized me into the church
of the spoken Word
tongue first, tongue first
and I’m a bird in a cage
and I sing my poems for you
thou shalt not lust
thou shalt not have other gods before me
not to be
the ever-after lover of your dreams
seek and I shall find
the kingdom of God between your legs
tongue first, tongue first
3 bloody screws on a bed of gauze
I’ve bided my time
but I wanna be
more than anything
I’ve bided my time
I’m coming back
to Michigan soon
to hear your voice
God’s true name
to be a bird
and it’s ok
I choose
to maintain
this cage
my friend,
my muse
and for the rest of my days
I’ll sing my poems for you.








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