Poems

Doing the Ton

her body aches and throbs up into mine
as she roars through the middle of the bloody arizona desert.
she is red, like a tear in a subconjunctival hemorrage
as if the highway weeps us in pain and extacy.
Left hand choking down on her,
slamming my food down into her,
the rods shift place and she laughs and moans.

at eighty the world is pulsing by now
and the sweat from my mask drips, dries, and cracks
on my cheeks and i am thirsty.
Entire lakes disappear and reappear before my eyes,
never deep enough to quench the thirst of a shadow,
so i bear down on her and let her know that i’m not stopping this time.
she exhales scorching carbon monoxide in disapproval.

at ninety we’ve forgotten our names and all the dark languages whispered
when my hands caressed her gently back at home.
hair fights the wind to stand up on end,
legs contract and contort around her.
begging to hold on for a few more seconds.
i can see and feel it coming now,
the needle edging closer and closer,
waiting to plunge its dark matter deep within my veins.

she roars
i clench
she screams
i scream back
she cries
i pull my head
down on the back of her,
ZEN AND THE ART OF
OH MY FUCKING GOD!

The world eases back to a constant.
I pull off my mask and offer her a cigarette.
But she is already smoking.

IMG_0804

Wasted

I want to take you to a place you’ve never been.
I want to take you to places I’ve never been.
I want to take you to places no one has ever been.
Stranded on a beach somewhere,
And when we are hungry,
We drink heavily from souls,
and lie, wasted and immaciated,
Starving.
And the stars will beam light on our sunken faces.
Your eyes, two inverted plums,
Cheekbones, Jagged mountains,
Cliffs that I dare not climb
for fear of leaving prematurely.
So we will wait together.
Together we can gather the superficial strength
to lock laughing fingers,
Shaking and dying they crumple upon each other,
Waiting for time to crumble our ashes together.
We  espy our lashes together,
As they molt from our descending sockets,
Falling to the excited sand.
And little excited spider crabs carry them into holes,
And then the tide comes in,
Carrying our lashes and excitement to the sea,
And we’ll pretend we had the strength to wish on them.

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