Tuesday, February 28, 2006


Woke up from this dream I’ve tried a million times:
How I spent my summer autumn vacation
sitting inside my teacup turned on
by a French song from years back.

“Sesame bagel cream cheese and butter!” Oh now I
remember. We talked walked around saw Sean Penn.
He’d been telling me online he’d been thinking
of coming to Boston for a short vacation.

A short vacation.
Let’s go to France and get turned on!
And he did. It turned out to be the most
memorable thing I’ve never done.

Now from accordians to fiddles. We watch the first movie
and begin smooching in the middle of the second.
Then we climb down a mountain to see a waterfall.
So unFrenchlike. We see the pretty leaves.

Come back home on Sunday night.
Dance and kiss. I guess this will be...
I guess this will be at least someone who
makes me want him home. Come back before I forget!

Monday, February 27, 2006


basking lasted
autumnal glow
ladybug umbrella

Macy’s is wet
nice ass
omniscient pine

conference at 11:59
retinal tickle
confuse the birds

October intimate
Charles Bukowski
sleepy vintage bookstore

mirror’s kisses
wetter jacket
golden violence

chewed auburn
Powell & Hyde
sum of souls

Borders napkin
Chinese lesson
Dark Angel

brilliantly hump backwards
bite smile into
the small of my back

Friday, February 24, 2006


and get a grasp
the rainy ocean and
get a grasp I can but
try and get a gingko

this summery October
rainy cliff a better grasp a
fifth different person in
fifth in one week

and get stability I’m
already wet a fifth of
stability I’m get a grasp
I’m already feeling

it’s not really working
this fifth of October
because I’m exploring
a tour of possible

Caribbean kid a
friend I think and in him
I am over and over
the rain of summer

so we had dinner and
down the rainy ocean
a fifth of slept I
slept together I ate an

ocean and now that I’ve
told anyone it’s
possible to feel it’s
get a grasp a rainy

game to clasp his hardon
hope to talk again
it’s me somewhere
I got I grasped I cracked a hardon

sanity gingko
summery winter
fifth feeling
slept cliff
Detroit ocean

Thursday, February 23, 2006


I cried and I cried through the movie.
No, really! All day date. Beautiful Sunday.
I cried. I couldn’t stop. This doesn’t happen.
Now with headphones on my head I am crying.
A new CD, faux Christmas. No lights. No hurdles.
I cry on the couch waiting to hear Smashmouth.
Balloons, confetti, giftwrap, I am crying. The cat’s new
torturer. Oh yeah, life goes on. Even after a wet day.
Get drunk, meet someone who gets mad because
I don’t like him more than I like him. I’m crying,
eating Chinese food, all by myself, 2am. Oh,
on Tuesday night I got stoned. My cellphone is so
quiet, I am crying, reading a novel, trying to sleep,
chilled, go to Dogwood, come back home, cry,
sit on my roof, walk up and down the hill, get more
depressed, fall in love again, can’t shake it, look
at my life, push him out, but it’s a beautiful day,
a beautiful day. I don’t even have his new number.
I cry some more.

Wednesday, February 22, 2006


I am out of ideas. The customers shout
“I’m here in New York City!” This is Bronx-like,
directly outside the corner of Frank’s;
old classmate, he no poet. The

Christmas eyes look blearily up at the rain.
What, no rain? Adrenalin is therefore pumped.
I’m just damned excited. Book after book
is shit: Shit: suave lies, cringing billboards.

Now I’m at Fenwick’s grabbing a burger.
I used to eat burgers. Nothing is more ridiculous
than my first vacation since 1997. Four targets:
one funky hat, children’s questions, potato chips,

earthquakes. I invited him over for the season premiere.
He accepted. I shake him when he’s almost fallen.
Pretends to fall. More than a decade mellow.
Me has been. Him passionate, aggressive; reminds me
of the boundaries I haven’t crossed in years.

His true colors. I get over it. More snow than
rain, these days. Poetry flaps on flagpoles, eroticized
and otherwise. I lift my mouth to the latté.
Everything is a process. I live on NBC and wait on my hamburger.

Tuesday, February 21, 2006


Dixie Kitchen. I vowed I’d come back here
Saturday for dessert. fog and cold enough
to say it’s cold and foggy. hot toddy. he
seems to be in a pickle. I’d rather just
sting myself. I got the messenger to work.
not it’s some sort of hot Christmas, going to
New York for the vicious circle. I’ll sit in
the steam room, the sauna, the steam room.
drink Cajun coffee. a weekend of absolute
zero. the red button is a hit. I’m not sick
but I play one on teevee. it’s enough to
make one want to drive a thirty-year-old
good-for-nothing. this will be the year of the
book. more fog. pecan pie.

Monday, February 20, 2006


Fog / Xmas tree.
Where in the hell?
On a train!
DVDs drop
Into a dull metal box.
Oh God
I’m cold!
Julie Delpy sings
(inside a laptop)!
I used to be...?
But am...?
Some slimy
Corporate decor.

Friday, February 17, 2006


what a beautiful body to end a melancholy week the trajectory
of which a Bay Area menorah toward something of myself in
Sandwich Mass a parkful of pondside geese of Perry Ellis bandwidth
mulling politics nulling freshly mown grass a latté two SMS msgs
“I bet if you went to Borders in Paris you’d find it!”
life it’s not so bad I finished trying life it’s not so bad
me all week attempting the final refrain of an incredibly long
process in writing the concept of the joys of isolation
the inherent need for pointless questions with other humans
my physical mission a STUNNING Cape Cod morning a merry
merry Barnstable and just north to Hyannis for a boardwalk walk

Thursday, February 16, 2006


whatever I am is not just that I’ve inched silently toward you
and/or whether I am gonna get a haircut today and/or
what I breathe in of your hair (be it long short black or blond)
nor the 23¢ stamp on the Japanese postcard of a dog named
Guston who pants at the Living Center (the dog is also reading)
and/or this warm development next to Saks at 11:46am on a
rainy Wednesday (it wants to wish you a Merry Christmas)
nor the complete isolation of LACK OF COMMUNICATION
nor merely the mesh of empty commuter rail tracks nor merely a kiss

Wednesday, February 15, 2006


because if it is simply for myself
why would anybody else want it
two pigeons dancing on a rooftop
anything to get to me like last night’s water
drip drip out of a Sunday depression a drip drip

this morning I can’t sleepwalk the Emerald Necklace
get up watch tv read a few pages
(two old sots reacquainting themselves)
stare at the ceiling

I found the rose garden from Switzerland
how to get it back

a pleasant trip back into bed
10:30 ball up into a loose fist left hand
press lightly against the top of his hip
fall asleep

Tuesday, February 14, 2006


Princess Diana is dead
my hair is buzzed
I live in a new apartment

two trolleycars meet
at Saks Fifth Avenue

seven boys carry cowboxes
through Union Square
a walking advertisement

I love my
yellow living room

Monday, February 13, 2006


ice polar morning
Christmas elements
flut-flutter like
Macy’s redblue flag
the black rooster
on the yellow t-shirt’s
gingerbread volcano

if you listen creatively
I can erase Rednose
like blug blug blug like
lip movements in the shower of memory
an orchid morning of cell splutter

the telephone call about
SUV laughter
too much babiesbutter on the pancakes
too much too much
this is before the birth of Starbucks
and total body shutdown

the good news from iPod:
God Bless Us Everyone

Friday, February 10, 2006


filch the fair wind
seven days til
famine and I
move my place
having the good
walk on nails
toward the end
of famine a
stressful workweek
he lost his job a
flair of buttonloop
just the way of
a brand new jump
framing joblessness
jumping back
into a great love
my life of travel
to room with me
the torture of
birthdays and
famine I believe
those deaths
tips of islands
those foreign
currents sort of
parched in the
shower of lunch
a quest for mint
a jealousy that
brings rich famine
to dance for fun
and music
I walk up just
to laugh at you
or with you
not to joke and just
mean it 150%

Thursday, February 09, 2006


this metropolis. what i have. is foglifted before eleven. is fog. is
didn’t lift til around eleven. my arms around the physics. is swiftly
walking in the fog, brushing your hand. brushing your hand swiftly.
is fog didn’t lift. i lost a little. a little arm in love eleven days. first
time in a long stretch. it is lifted in me. lifted. didn’t lift. mostly lifted.
the best ever. is this little metropolis. or of last night a darker little
metropolis. a warmer than the day. i am inside. a night warmer than
day. under a bridge. crumbling again. not so swiftly. i am holding
your hand swiftly. single file through the construction. crumbling. no
fog. block by block, holding your hand. warmest is. warmest ever
night. warmer than the day. i am next morning waking up next to you.
i am next. next morning. is showering with you. is scrubbing. with
mint shampoo. my little metropolis. this fog. this didn’t lift. i love
this fog. i love this fog of you. i am. this fog in me. i love what
happens in my heart with the fog and without it. everytime and
everywhere, brushing your hand, crumbling, handholding, swiftly,
slowly, under a bridge, day or night. now it’s noon. something sweet.
is something. is gone. was fog. fog’s gone. was brushing your hand.
this crumbling fog.

Wednesday, February 08, 2006


I lost him?

on the edge of


and New York.

a friend calls from somesuch

says she is pretty much sleeping.

having slept now for many years.

HOT today.

pillow on top of lap.  laptop on top of pillow.

I took a nap beside Jamaica Pond.

three honks.  hazy.

I took a nap on a parkbench underneath a big oak tree.

I stop calling, stop worrying.

he is safely inside of my heart.

cheep cheep twitter chirp.

bonjour Barber Joe.  bonjour birds.

Tuesday, February 07, 2006


now let me take the time to absorb it.
my reconciliation and more.
a sogged roof.
instant messages, quickening
my decision to call in sick,
my moving forward or sideways;
mouthing up to the raindrops.
there’s a whole lot to swallow.
what remains is obviously
the most important. to find it
somewhere in the bins,
the boxes i’ve yet to unpack.
take everything
as it comes to me.
the cleanest of all
cleansing the rooftops,
the sidewalks,
the rusted pipes and the escape ladders.
do i walk out the doorway?

Monday, February 06, 2006


keep the awareness.

we are officially
‘seeing each other’ again.

patter of rain.
eucalyptus berries.
berries? wet,

was i able to ascertain...what,

that the trip back was longer
than the trip down?

and my nerves.

which is worse:
or death?

Friday, February 03, 2006


today i was
driving home
in the rain
thinking about
a poem entitled

to my brother who held my grandmother’s hand as she died

Thursday, February 02, 2006


it is this lake of love
between Knoxville and Nashville
a poetic claw in my heart
like the tip of the brine-sopped rock
I climbed

seeking not the tenderest avenue
nor the thunderest

in a place called The Bean Pot
Dad called
he wanted me to stay with him

for my grandmother
I buy the blackest jacket

the Appalachians are peaceful
and movingly eventful

I feel very scruffy and I have to pee
(there is nothing left to scratch)
puke until you forget your country

Wednesday, February 01, 2006


my grandmother
died today

I got to tell her
I love her

now, 7am
Chambersburg, PA

driving home
and last night

and today
my job

drive through Maryland

in these shoes
I’d rather remember

hence a burst bruise
over the bay

another cup
and I’ll be there