Monthly Archives: February 2014

good afternoon, all platonic

deny deception or disease
one plus one is three
because your careful dealings
make your mind relaxed and free
pick on idle notes
until you shiver to your toes
your wedding bells aren’t ringing
it’s just twelve o’clock and swinging
from the bell tower above you
form your wondrous body, burning
at the stake
standing face to face
with satan

good morning, all intravenous

it’s a possible formation of destiny’s darkness
and possibly portioned for a summertime’s blue sky
pardon your patrons
no party can push me
to pledge my allegiance
to attractive army gowns
distance your martyrs
denying your gentrified
genius or insanity
separate but the same
and cull myriad captions
of photos all taken
with cameras called upon
to picture the scene
of science sent seeking out
truth or reporting the
patterns of plagues
passing out in the street
wish on a candle
no stars in the sky anymore
i am able
and you are cain’s son
signal your shopping list
languid and luscious
with tattered green army pants
passing you by

distract your deviance
and dance toward the moon

good evening, all in love

you said is this a joke
i said come on now
you know there’s nothing out of words
to be tied upon a float on down the river
or a casket down the road

you said are you but sure
that i’m the only girl
i said, woman, you know that you are
and there’s something about the tiles in the bathroom
that floor me
for the carpet hugs the walls
and whispers gallantly with judas
there’s a rainstorm
out the window; let it fall
and make me shudder toward its sound
upon the rooftop
thick as steel as ashes fall
from the fireplace

take apart the winter
and dream of spring storms

good afternoon, all despondent

it’s just a cause to cull, wildly,
your sad and weary song
sung in harmony with the heavens
though it won’t last very long.
and you know what it takes
to form a fraction of a place
to call your home.
and you’re there alone.

justify your willingness
to realize your ruins
like a bandage over a gunshot wound
you’re bleeding out and over.
so you try to be no rover of the gardens.

the gate swings.