Sunday, July 31, 2011


Distinguished Palate

Most employment involves a lot of
bathroom cleaning.   Which makes me even
more thankful that food is so good.   Or it
can be.   Usually.

Is doing the right thing forward-looking?
I’m at that point where I can’t tell.   It’s
kind of a new point.   Does anyone else
understand?   Anything can be too much,
of course.   And tonight anything’s
possible, too.

That Harry Potter.   Now we’re at
my place for a Bergman flick.   The
angel on my shoulder is cooking
and the devil on my shoulder is
depressed.   I’m not sure what I
can do.

But, yeah, food can be really great.
Denzel Washington’s two girls
work at Hooters and I could
really go for that about now.

Saturday, July 30, 2011


Aren’t you cute?

If only at first I could have remembered
the word clever.   Nothing seems to find its way
through the fog of exhaustion.   Except this
swollen ankle I’m getting most evenings
(note to self: a] get checked again for
diabetes; b] you’re not a hypochondriac
except on purpose; like in character).

Your secret handshake has a funny way
with words.   Too cute.   Plus I
spent all night translating the Greeks.

To quickly move from one thing to the
next.   This can be a nice diversion when
giving a sermon.   Unless repeated too often.
It’s a shell game.   You can’t lead a man to the
right walnut without teaching him how to get there
(which requires learning how to forget, right?).

Many things.   I threw myself a birthday party
Saturday night.   Lot of folks danced until 5:30am.
Most with various intoxicants.   Then hand-in-hand
up my hill.   Which was the highlight of my walk,
if not my late 30s.   Or the magic replay in my
head says we’re really a couple.

The lovely talk on the sofa makes it a boyfriend
collage.   These things make a lot of money in
the art world of life.   And money isn’t the object.
I mean it’s not an object.   I meant it more like
firewood or kindling.   The kind that gives you a
quick fortuitous heart attack at seventy-one on a
winter morning you’d like to use your fireplace.

Friday, July 29, 2011


Sometimes remembering is

I put all my tricks into
this sentence.   But was it

Is it okay to ask a muse for
money?   Because I really need
$700.   Is he really a muse
if you regularly take his money?

All the money in the world
is going to Christmas this year.
Plus I found a radically updated
Birkenstocks selection in Tokyo.

The movie set was abuzz with the
divorce of the two leads.   Hint:
doing this a lot may cause mania.

Oddly, all day I’ve felt like such a man
because I put an entire vanity together
all by myself.

I get the feeling Snow White
sweat a lot.   This is vaguely
confirmed by the lit celluloid
in my head.

Thursday, July 28, 2011


I saw you once in here already

What is that a snake?   You must be
very sensitive.

Ikea is so serendipitous.   I was just there
yesterday and I like how your poem
ends with it.

And your Chinese lantern in New York.

See, if you dumb it down it makes more

People tend to have a lot of feelings,
especially about Ikea.

When I get back do you want to jerk?
Are you implying I’m a lousy friend?

Maybe, halfheartedly. But I’ve no idea
why it requires a shower.

Take Tuesday, for example. Or what?
Take making me feel guilty.   But
who made that really?

See, everybody has a point.   Mine
is usually Xanax.

I’m on auto-pilot with the ink.

Zen would be good for me because
one of the biggest obstacles is the
feeling I’m always rushing.

Wednesday, July 27, 2011


How do you move yourself
to a new location?

Try a hot dog.   Street vendors
are sexy.

Gossip with the urchins about
who got poked in the shower
this morning.   Denied.

Take a quiz about yourself.
Find out who you are.   Then
ask everyone if they agree.

Put rosemary in the bong
water.   Get something
done.   Buy an iPhone.

Start one thing and
end with another.
Are you a bottom?

I like a sexy pose in
blue workout shorts.
Shout out for the tattoos.

Make more jokes about
donuts and more paintings
of your grocery lists.

Try again in a couple of
years with a sprained ankle.

Make out with a street
vendor.   Make out with
a hot dog.

The older you get the more
difficult it is to make out
with tiny photographs.

Tuesday, July 26, 2011


But Alli I don’t hold my sadness
in my armpit.

I like how we take each other so
seriously.   Like the Eucharist
or something.

It feels good today, though.
Honestly.   And living with
worrying about it comes
with the territory.

You had me in stitches,
I have to admit.   That
you’re one of three
sisters explains

The real loser, of course,
is Harry Potter.   I’m
no philosopher
but I’d really
love to teach
that class.

Monday, July 25, 2011


Crook my arms into an extended shrug.

What was your crazy sex?   Opened the
table to draw some work onto it but
forgot work.   Maybe I was watching
it go in late one morning.   Watching
as it goes in.   Some like this trait.

Others are exhibitionists.   Still others,
boneheads.   I watch some porn that
does this, but I’ve never done it
personally.   The rain this morning
agrees.   Or digresses.   Do you want

to try me?   Okay, perhaps.   But let’s
first get beyond the shadows and
look square into the now.   Did
you purchase your magnifying
mirror, first?   Okay.

I think all buses have beautiful
boys (and subways too).   I
thought I was a loser at first.
But in fact I get a few responses.
Not just from old men either.

Sunday, July 24, 2011


Make a list of the voices to dissipate a
headache.   Something like counting
sheep.   Appreciate the dissonance
which jogs focus.   Logic, as ever,
prevails.   Just to see the roof of
its mouth.   Word word peanut
butter.   But actually better,
because hunger dissipates

It’s an expired link and
you just clicked it.   Sour
orange juice, too bad.

What happens when you
dumb it down like bedsheets.
Bad acronym, but you know
what I mean.   Another list that
puts you over the edge?   Like
I like nonsense only better.

You joke but I once knew
someone like you.   He
mowed a poet with a
huge front lawn
just to rub noses
with all its barbed wire.

Friday, July 22, 2011


I know nothing.

Load more guys for distant pleasure?
You are double-spaced and blend nicely
with your environment.   I’ve got to put
an end to it.   Tease the hole out of the
donut while shirking all responsibility.

Lawyers suck but you’ve got it made
in the shade.   You’re pronounced a-
bundance and ease of accomplishment.
You also confuse the hell out of me.
But I try, my amped-up confidence

and new labcoat.   When does it
become the importance?   Next
subject (and the hiccup in between).
Love.   And reload.   Melancholy
elsewhere isn’t the right word for it.

A strong hit in the north portion,
upper right quadrant.   Having a
headache for lunch (so last subject).
I mean are you schizophrenic?!
No offense.

The houseboat dips as the
needle edges inward at midnight.

Thursday, July 21, 2011


His heart is an ocean that’s inside another ocean.
            —reporter Roxanne Ritchi, during Megamind

As if tossed at sea.   Telling a face
I’m sorry I can’t lie to you.   Can you
remember why you didn’t want to
say anything?

He is my boyfriend 22 years old
with layers that start peeling away.
Somebody told me I was a
back-up like Troy.   The cute one.

I ask Ambiguous for help.
Don’t I ever?   He responds with
a lesson on friendship and love
as seen in the latest installment of

Harry Potter.   Am I the wise guy?
Am I Ron the dork?   “Heart,”
he calls him.   It’s the most
touching moment ever.   “But

maybe Harry just has a hard-on,”
I suggest.   “Perhaps he sees this as
his one window of opportunity.”
Everyone’s an air of disappointment.

Wednesday, July 20, 2011


Hooray, no spam here.

His room is indeed a mess.   Yet
here’s my love.   Something indeed
so dark.   I read a bunch of poems
about sex that aren’t sexy.

Tuesday, July 19, 2011


I need to figure out these curtains.
Changed my mind about the bedroom

paint on flight toward Paris via London.
I’ll say it once.   [FROWN]

Produce a dream performance in bed.
Realize your fantasy as a sex god.

Somewhere in here I have the dates wrong.
Today is horny day.   It comes down

to just this.   And pecan pie.   And
maybe a beer under “Crazy Sky” –

which I didn’t catch, but Catherine did.
An old haunt with cute notes.

Twenty dollars to read a bit.   Some-
thing dark in my heart.

This is the real story.
Idealist, naive, too distant sometimes.

Monday, July 18, 2011


You remind me I’m unfinished.
Come very close to calling things
off.   This childish out of my
mouth.   It gets to me after I’m
reassured glorious, e.g., getting
out of Arkansas or finally talking
Paris.   Who knew it was like this?
I mean I can’t remember the bad
stuff.   Or anything, mostly.   So I
set up a drink date at my place,
playing Cupid (or his lusty
little brother).   Back to the
28th floor.   Back to left-
overs and fiasco.   Watch
one more scary movie
for fake horror.

Sunday, July 17, 2011


He does it on purpose.   It will be
nice as I haven’t seen him since the
beginning of the year.   If you really
are from another planet then slap me.

This moment that begs for a moderate
pause.   Take me to your leader.   Take
me to the very beginning.   Come very
close to the back of my hands.

Calling things off out of crazy.   Page-
after-page to calm is worthless,
even the shades drawn with white
noise, Dad’s plant smashed into

the heater that never worked.   I’d
like to say go ahead and balk.   A
plan breaks in November under
Leonid the meteor shower.

Wednesday, July 06, 2011


Vienna sausages, Hershey’s kisses
with almonds, and sushi.   For din-
ner.   Don’t be complacent, I guess.
My mind doesn’t feel the same,
says lobster, first time in 4 years,
just words.   And with chopsticks,
no less!   So many drinks to balance.
Turn on TV for soy sauce commercial.
Life gets weird, doesn’t it?   Drink a
glass of lemon wedge & go to bed.

Tuesday, July 05, 2011


Flea Bargain

The god of employment
looks down in shame as
the apartment decays.

Let’s go shopping at the
transplant boutique.
Let’s decide on a

Close your eyes
to the rain and smell

pot wafting in through
the living room window.
The one replaced this summer.

Don’t be complacent.
Wear a tie to work.

Sunday, July 03, 2011


Hot Pancake

The word is your going through a bad spell.
I love you in the kitchen but I’m jealous of
the kitchen.   Drop a book somewhere in
between us, like halfway.   Make a noise
in there.   Scratch or cluck, scrape a broad
brush over the canvas—a loud stroke.

I found paint supplies in most of the
kitchen cabinets.   Ease cock, the color of
tongue, onto the balance.   Hair drifts apart
but finds its thing.   All is inevitable.   Or
that’s what the kitchen thinks.   I repeat a
beer to my brain, endless.   It’s water with

a slice of lemon.   Eases butter as it melts.
Dip an oar into the cool creek.   Like that.

Saturday, July 02, 2011


Great Catch

You’ve got a lot going on at the
other end of the couch.   This drink.
Pour another beer into the flame.

“I’m really in love,” he stutters.
Unless someone can prove other-
wise.   Unless breakfast is burning.

“I’m too old for this,” I kept
repeating to my brain.   An unfamiliar
phrase.   Four new wigs for Christmas.

Don’t be a replacement.   Economical
is comical.   Force the issue.   When
it cries make a note of it.