Wednesday, July 28, 2010

canoe still life

The water is soft,
meaningless fog creeps inside my eyes,
a cloak of invisibility a shroud to brain speaking and intelligent whispers.
glup glup glup glub glub blug blug! bubbles away the heavy mixed tonic as it submerges with the lake, one, two
cloth sticks skin on skin, the dampness of a tropical heat, and pruney toes //
these are the things that only I know as I – I become a part of this scene
and underneath it, stuck in mud, a harsh thread cuts open my fingerprints with shattered blood
disappearing without a trace, I embrace the scent of iron with my whole.

I lick up this locked-up lake with eyes of yearning and misinterpretation,
A canoe tugs behind me and false, weak stilettos walk across the bottomless base
Thrashing through the puddle is in fact no effort at all – but is the opposite of effort as in effortless.
I pull up to the shore where I had seen five – six of you waiting
Trailed by a piranha and his razor teeth, curly jungle hair like a scary doll which I fear not at all
I am walking on thin air though not stifled by it,
Feeling awake, alive enough to crawl through beds, eyeless, faceless, rather than play a tennis game.
Fame, it is a noble, creeping monster that lurks in the spirit house.

Friday, July 16, 2010


A crow on the electric line – no, two –
Blue fairies and their black eyes, button holes,
Eaten out like worms gnawing at the ground like meaningful moles
Down below we cannot fathom the expanse of a rich cloud
Poles open wide, both ends a void
Evading cantankerous dust

Forward dwarf
A lofty lustful cloud of dust
The stairs are ring pulls
- by that I mean we get stuck in the wine cork of this place
Hidden traps, stick your hand into the void
You know you won’t come out whole
A day soul swallowed up in the steel bathtub under those stairs
Where you sit on the toilet and watch black and white television
It’s a dimpled warp in this universe of iron

Tuesday, July 13, 2010

speckled man

It’s not so much that you crouch and pummel the tennis balls through the walls that frown me//

A clown of forgiveness, I take in coffee cups as tokens of your coins
Assuaging the tunnel of wilted guilt//

The frozen slices of grapefruit teardrops that flake off your skin
Breathe to me madness//

In your hallway proudly stands a headless mannequin
Ribs, skeleton, I smell the sickness of up north

You continue drifting to the poles
An iceberg lettuce salad
Calorie-less, empty as a watery crunch,
Shards dissipating in heavy clouds.

Wednesday, July 7, 2010


Those I did not ever see again.

I returned to your house on the hill
it was still there,
the feeling.

I had to go there to make sure I didn't lose it.

I climbed up the hole in the wall
and lay in your sheets
let the web of unknowing cloak my eyes

Sat at the traffic light, yours next to mine
goodbye, and see you next time

I see that you are crying but I don't see it at all, only the hot water tears.

I write backwards in the hope that poetry will return you to me.