Wednesday, November 30, 2005


I’m not gay.

I’d like to clear that fact up right now.

It’s just the biggest blizzard I’ve ever been a part of.

We started talking and talked for an hour.

The fog hid Coit Tower from my mother.

In retrospect, yes, I dated him for a few months.

But I did not actively participate.

To remind me that he still has my watch.

And he’s throwing a party on Saturday.

It was a dark roof.

We were walking home from some club

and he shoved me up against a vined brick wall

and started tonguing me.

I had the hots for the red-headed kid.

The inclination to just dive into trouble like that.

I paid my dues and that was that.

Twenty or so inches of snow.

Even if I did occasionally watch baseball,

after Thanksgiving,

in a sports bar,

with someone I thought was perfect

who held my hands in his,

on the table next to the green napkins.

Tuesday, November 29, 2005


here I am wired for days
on coffee and cold medicine
mine is not a peculiar
no coat necessary and I
am being paged
suddenly I am incredibly
horny so many fish
in the sea
there’s fish-face everywhere
relax relax it’s hardly strange
that I want logical emotionally
stable cultured and
politically aware people not
asking for a celestial marvel or anything
I start back up on the Prozac
the sky opens and erupts
and spews this lava-like stuff
all over Missouri
so we all have to skeedaddle
just like the love that’s left Londonly
on its very own jet-plane

Monday, November 28, 2005


I was boring a date yes
of a healthier lunch

it was all so very natural
a smooched hook tbd

a line of weathered Portuguese
a weakened telephone

a pas de deux on a ripcord
a milk pop and a baklava

of which we will not ski
tho I am not so sure my head is

a search turkey of the taters
and a corn of the buns

and then a destroy
a gushing rain of gushing

do my hands seem as if
oh thank you thank you god

a where is the big news
of the sold-out storm-cellar

a get to the driven soul
of a barking like an ape

way up front of my house
we was under the weather

feeling so good of a noon
with loose-lipped eyes

and then I lost the car-kiss
inside a beautiful rummy

Friday, November 25, 2005


I just broke up
at the pool table

a dragon roll
of grief

I burnt my wrist
on the radiator

felt empty
bought Murphy’s

Oil Soap

got two Xmas

a webcam
an imported

kiss that was
softer than normal

Thursday, November 24, 2005


a froth coffee
a weak nut
a leche cerulean
a philosophy wheel

I wanna take my
blasted tie off it’s
Monday and I’m drama
and not intellect

he looks at me
like I’m a poetry guy
signs the pandemonium
with his animated face

I please wanna hamburger
with my serviettes

Wednesday, November 23, 2005


now a novel I begin
anew a nod up from

the chair a fish up my
black chicken raindrops

off the gates I made to
Chinatown in apple juice

it’s a promise to the
nose creeps blown

out from behind
the blue comforter

a horrible horrible
rubble rubble

an office guy
he wakens up tics

tacks on a spiritual

for the November
of the love

and his plum wish
wishes a plot outline

Tuesday, November 22, 2005


things to do

go to Union Square
watch the Starlight Room sign
call 266-1492
it’s a half-moon
at the new Williams Sonoma flagship
why do I cry
into this telephone under one star
maybe it’s good
comet viewing

Monday, November 21, 2005


looking at the memory
of a garden starlet which is
very upset and mild

looking at the bright
bread and water butterfly
where no British-looking taxi

where no second-hand bookstore
where EVERYBODY I know
puts on one of my stars and

doesn’t read any history
because it’s bigger than the

Friday, November 18, 2005


when he was here
expand evolve
incredibly broke
going baja
tickled into
fell in lovenotes
fast imagination
weather allergies
a capital future
it’s administrative
a gloomy bitch
filthy with four
and a
bowling trophy
no fucking letters
unloved e-mails
chest hairs
coming healthy
this madly time
whip jack frosting

Thursday, November 17, 2005


This is my last new testament.
The cats go nuts in my room
and the most disgusting thing
is Maggie tracks mud
to my computer and back.

“A little massage in my phone is a
stunning work of sentenceography.”

I say this as I spill sugar
all over myself and my journal.
I hope I got some in the coffee.

When I woke up I thought of an
ulterior motive, gawked at who
was sitting at the window with a
Fonzie look, and then I imagined
I could be doing it in a big way.

Have you noticed that I don’t
write when I’m drunk anymore?
I have such a bad taste in my mouth
from last year.

If I die right now,
I guess I’d have to be
buried in Arkansas.
But I’d rather they just
put me on the street all burnt up.

Wednesday, November 16, 2005

adidas of the modern american cuisine
you need to catch a trip
back to this happy happy hashi

..of all the people i’ve actually the blue skies of

i’m sending you a text msg
at 1:07am

..yeah my addressbook is ok
..and i’ll swear it online...& even
..remove my montgomery clift
..if i hafta...

                   ? however the fuck do you
                   remember all that dish anyway ?

in my stomachment
something on the cock of
i mean character of
your underwear’s all in the presentation hun

..i feel so horrible i hit on you
it was just easy effective night-time
teeth white
near harvard square in the 90s

.. i wanna dishwasher in

so let’s just fast-forward to the
organic restaurant
where i text msg u again @
whatever o’clock

             ..hi hun
             ..i’m not sayin
             ..yer not all faithful to my
             ..growed-up tummy & stuff
             ......but yer just not here

originally published in foam:e

Tuesday, November 15, 2005


this wass also day
when swee goodbye
too whereabouts
hhappns of tousled
barrs, both in Texs
and memry. 1,042
hitts nsome gy whho
parntlives or
lived nNw Orleans
got rredfor noses
f somn guise frank
offtoo bayall
now i’m writing
foursom Harv
dunsplit me
two night
feeln so scarred
d jealoussfourteen
later thers secxwith
seeze one
that’s notsobad
ndit had grasshpeppers
n it withlotssof

first published in 2nd Avenue

Monday, November 14, 2005


midnight at the torso
I hug a novel on a
beer-soaked bedspread
like a control freak

pierced eyes e-mail
little blurbs back and
forth on the mouth of
the lips of the teeth

two for the price of
one fisticuffs
a gabbing and a lunging
of the mist and the fog

jazz that is full of
a whole new sport
forced kisses on couches
I am the fire guy

I’m too excited
you can pin me down
and almost definitely
not rush this finish

first published in foam:e

Friday, November 11, 2005


I like watching people
and ships and images in windows
big boats and pasta for lunch

barges and sirens
an amazing site this newest
this not normal window

the people windows and lunch
are things that begin to feel
way too normal

this guy who has your name
for example an eloquently put
passion to learn passion

the sirens of the newest window
are cocoa smokestacks of skin
o boy the highlight of this movie

for lunch I feel normal
and hear a punkin sing
“I used to be a little boy”

first published in 2nd Avenue

Thursday, November 10, 2005


None of the family got blown away.
Whereas, if I start dating again,

what does that mean? We are
tornadoes that spend tons of

money on business ventures.
I slip my left arm over his

long tummy and instantly his
hand slides over mine. This

pyramid scheme is but a twister.
Hey, I’m not taking Prozac and

I’m doing just fine. Our thumbs
are interlocked. Anyway, it

may not be too bad. There are
new ground rules and he shudders

a few times as he drifts into
sleep. My feelings have changed.

This morning is the bluest and
everyone is talking about the weather.

I can see the ocean channel
from where I sit, and the roses

on the fire escape across the
street. Our parent company is

a big dog. And we’re supposed to
get a couple inches of snow tonight.

first published in 2nd Avenue

Wednesday, November 09, 2005


up on me a few nights
with little chest hairs

got some bargains like
a deft kiss with the cat watch

two rolls of film
and a cool-ass cloud

over the swirling barber stripes
a red gray and black cardigan

plus a different kind of candy
every night

2 pornos on the value scale
are then sideswiped by sunburn

everything is so accessible
on the roof

snapshot of the 2 of us
down 7 flights to the laundry

first published in 2nd Avenue

Tuesday, November 08, 2005


a bunch of arcane friends
formed a cult

I injected them with
myself who was the

primary target
then I rescheduled

12 staple removers
with a tall glass of water

a gloating airplane
frightened me

it touched St. Louis with
a horde of postcards

I grin about living
in the cusp or clutch

first published in 2nd Avenue

Monday, November 07, 2005


peace dining terrace
on still butterflies

orange cups
of golf course

willow willow
doves whose coos

puff clouds
over jaded

giant kapok
I wonder if the

same kind of
chunked concrete

a cathedral
I loved so much

it steams mornings
like a stretched

limousine on eggs
my one room in

yourself where
when it’s quiet

you can hear me

first published in Poems for Peace, Structum Press (Tom Hibbard, editor)

Friday, November 04, 2005


in the little courtyard coming up
     steaming palm trees
          the most amazing squeegees

we broke up after an
     unbelievable struggle
          at the cocktail reception

and the performance by a comedian
     who pursed his lips like a disco ball
          and ate a pie on VH1

Thursday, November 03, 2005


soberly blue Boca Raton
a panoramic Atlantic
80 degrees F

I’m drinking
two citrus peachies
with a pelican

why quarrel with the doctor
over jumbo shrimp
when you can just
pocket the raving sun

see it soar over us
(we use our lushest saucers)
at this pink resort where there’s
no need for windows

and your chauffeur has to
take a boat across the
Intercoastal Waterway

Wednesday, November 02, 2005


Under far better conditions
my teeth have been melting.

I can no longer endure my mouth
or the palm trees around me.

The sirens in the wake of the fog
are so orange they are boring.

Tuesday, November 01, 2005


you’ve been invaded by aliens.
in my first weeks here I had
been deceived. first you drowned
and then you came back as an
elephant. then you rubbed your
tusks all over me. furthermore
everyone around me smoked
little ivory cigars. let’s suppose
I never talk about the icepick.
let’s imagine that I get into a
routine. finally. and cuss
a lot into my mom’s pyramid
scheme. then you meekly unpack
your long glowing ears. yeah.
now the aliens have fallen in
love with me too.

first published in