the dodo bird
was no phoenix
his rise
was a fall
to the grace
of oblivious invisibility
through slick mud
shiny
unseen zigzagging
staggering
prominent thoroughway
inventions adventure
joints bent on investment
vented fear out
the top and the sides
even up
from the bottom
puffs out odd slits
crosswise
we are smoke
choosing
to enter inhalation
a force
ignited
pushed to fire
repeatedly
she said
you can put your two thumbs in
to me a fontanel on top of an orange
after the skin is peeled off
spread your hands to crack
my life open
feel the fruity flesh of the disorganized
mess of what is left of time
i’ve made of it will
give
to split
into burnished semi-translucence
crescents stinging
as i run
not away
opaque feeling
but juicy
down your chin
to your neck
and stick
there
but she was far
braver than i
how do those poets do it
write with their arms
all pulled inside
their sweatshirts
sleeves dangly
torsos off limp fingerless
empty casings sausages
linings
sorry
cold shivery romancing
sadnesss of the most dramatic
pathetic kind
self-declarative
a lover wailing in the rain
soggy bangs in too wet eyes
why should war
be intuitive
anyway
drifting
begging you to see
varied
textures deep rich lush
shades of green in the moving
tall grass reaching
between the legs of my mind
tickling
ideas loose and coming
each and every one
the individual leaves wave
through windy fingers
to make the tree into shapes
roughly round
but in truth undulating
in the odd oblong near spheres
of an eight months pregnant belly
of a full breast caught from under
in the weight of gravity
pleas answered
with extracting promises
to heal in the face
of such excruciating strength
a season aching
with may eyes
an oak tree in her azalea bush
three women in her bed
i loved her for being more
mixed up than me
in and out of her head
she had a thing for chickens
for rats and guinea pigs
she trusted the luck of small things
yet did not care for kids
too human she said
but still i took my brood
for her to heal
with the hens brown eggs
the children were afraid
and better for it
i believe
with him
i was frankenstein’s bride
he both monster and scientist
meaner than hyde
softer than jekyll
he liked
to lay his middle finger
across my clit
as if
i never left
the specimen table
a delicacy
offered up to his insatiable
need
the place he opened
the soul he cleaved
in manipulative compliments
selfish flattery
a wound he pressed
apart relentless
it couldn’t bleed
i couldn’t breathe
my finest nerve
desensitized
from constant pressure
i wouldn’t leave
afraid
thinking he would plummet
without me weighty
underneath
victims of electric currents
are frequently
unable to let go
of the hot wire
jumping the spasm higher
but not alive
really
i am a little afraid
to fully lay
my hands upon
the relationship
between reading and writing
likewise
or
vice versa
between writing and reading
i will tell you
this much
i fucking love humans
i love being human
we are such fascinating creatures
after all
after all of it
her hands beautiful grace
fingers long undulating
seamed tight and carefully together
waving flesh sheets of sound sines
across a page of space air time
painted with skin wafting amid
colored silk and the chimes of zils
rhythmic
stone walls pocked by plaster chipping
against the salt of the mediterranean
the internal pressure of density in unmeasured
populations of terror and poverty perch now
precarious over that sea a threat sliding
toward and away in our minds downward
whatever the rate and pace surely
to doom
western music continues, booming
clashing
what it lacks in standards
of punctuation it more than makes up
for in exclamation
points and ellipses
meaningless percussion and the drone
of rocket ships
dirty Job
apple tease
so very proprietary
hidden under a macintosh
pervert raincoat
as if it takes a professional
a special tool to
do any work on it
used the iphone to lie
took the self-possessive
pronoun out of d.i.y.
but women are
a revolutionary
force in favor
of all things
open source
one of my favorite writers, Tiffany, at xtremewriting sent me this amazing slightly nsfw pic because she knows i do love vagina talk - spoken word, text or textile - in public. just today i was ranting how apple killed diy and it only seemed appropriate to make a “poem” about it.
thanks for the photo post! biggest awkward<3, woman
peeping toms are outlawed
in most states and local ordinances
but we’ve still got our reality tv
and closed captioned stoplight cameras
dildo ownership has legal limits
not just in the south but also in the western desert
you are not allowed to walk naked down the street
in real time
but at least partial
nudity’s the standard if you want to make friends
on the internet
i am not complaining
nor making any judgment
i recognize total chaos
when i see it
& i love it
we are all broken
by life
that is the point
it’s physics
it’s physical
it’s biological
it’s anatomical
correctness doll
material fodder all
that we are
the closest we get
to resembling spiritualness
is friction
together co-efficient
in our resistance
to static
in our submission
to kinetic
rubs
assumptions
regarding force
the roughness of surfaces
figured in skating eight
balls clamoring for pocket
holes
Independent of surface area
velocity motion direction
with exceptions for pointiness
high speeds and viscous lubrication
but always proportional
to the normal press
against each other
in every case the result
being the creation
of heat
under the influence
all human bodies
eventually
burn up
and in the process
we are all broken
down
yet
lifted by art
Instead you could start a poetry club or just play charades weekly.
she said
in a loud
exasperated
voice
hands flapping
palms raised
dears, please
stop bending over
do not smile
don’t spread your cheeks
pull your pants up
turn around
say no
walk away
just don’t do it
voluntarily
anymore
stop watching
you’re only encouraging them
please
ghosts of witches food & objects
having only barely just recovered
from an encounter with a banana
having a near death experience
at the bottom of a backpack
in the rear seat of a vehicle
i stumbled upon a pair of shades
in their final death throes
eternally separated
they could no longer serve
but still reflect
off shadows
