Once you've sold your love
you see the sweethearts' sunset
as chemicals bleeding through an ulcer in the sky
when they go out for a dinner
you hear the animals in cellophane
screaming in the supermarket aisles
even your heart, your kidney and your lungs
have lost their elegant purpose
they become commodities for paying bills
just in case you lose all other means
and the men, old ones or young,
plumbers, poets, lawyers and fathers
poker players, fishermen, social workers, killers
they wander through the door like minnows in a net
cocks in a barrel, harvested for cash
bellies on a hide-a-bed
once you've sold your love
Jan 2, 2014
Jan 1, 2014
Mr. and Mrs. Grim Reaper
I was born the Original Fodder
for Mr. and Mrs. Grim Reaper
felled by the scythe of a need for love
with an achilles heel heart of amnesia
direct intravenous to dreams and pictures
i tap my psychic gash of fortune
+ ride the vocal diamond catapult
of words that make me more
than a meathooked beast
Mr. and Mrs. Grim Reaper
with the friendliness and deadliness
of scorpion guardians
their tender strychnine embrace
a high grade dope of one-way caring
beauty with bad aftertaste
but Mr. and Mrs. Grim Reaper
how can i ever thank you?
for this gift of birth
and the pleasure of my breath?
for Mr. and Mrs. Grim Reaper
felled by the scythe of a need for love
with an achilles heel heart of amnesia
direct intravenous to dreams and pictures
i tap my psychic gash of fortune
+ ride the vocal diamond catapult
of words that make me more
than a meathooked beast
Mr. and Mrs. Grim Reaper
with the friendliness and deadliness
of scorpion guardians
their tender strychnine embrace
a high grade dope of one-way caring
beauty with bad aftertaste
but Mr. and Mrs. Grim Reaper
how can i ever thank you?
for this gift of birth
and the pleasure of my breath?
Dec 28, 2013
boys of winter
all through the brisk new jersey winter, we wrote to each other by hand. his letters came from connecticut where it was even colder. the landlady would slide them under the door of the attic and i would pick them up and lie on my bed for a long time before opening one. you know, just smiling at it.
i was reading the complete works of dostoevsky, living in the attic, practicing the cello for five or six hours a day. once or twice a semester i would give a concert in the university auditorium. i never dared to look at the audience because i was always shaking and pale from vomiting. i would just stare at the floor. but no matter how nervous i got, that pregnant, squirming to-the-death need to deliver would win and i'd go begrudgingly onstage to have another sonata baby in public.
for the sound of my russian soul weeping through burled cherry wood, the people put their hearts into their hands and applauded with muscle. the sound of clapping would burrow deep into my gut and maybe then i'd look up and see a smile or two. maybe i'd think, i wasn't delivering deformed monsters after all.
the blond chamber director took me aside and stared into my eyes. i had her love, she wanted me to know. and i would fall asleep in my mittens and hat in the freezing attic, feeling the sweet and sour sting of being noticed.
i was 19 at the time and i weighed 98 pounds. i remember, because my mother had come to visit and she commented on how attractive i was in my black velvet pants, hardly anything left of me but bones.
the boy's letter went on for twenty pages. inside the letter was always a little gift, like a sparkly band-aid or a cartoon kitten. he was a painter and so one day to be closer to him, i wanted to make a sculpture. i went out into the snow and gathered the damp limbs of trees. then i took a pocket knife and spent the afternoon whittling the wood into these slender, fluted shafts tied together with twine. I don't know if it was art, but to me it was magical to make something beautiful out of a pile of twigs.
Later that evening i walked in the dark along the railroad tracks to the deli to call the boy from a payphone. He said hello and that he would take the commuter train from new haven all the way to new jersey so we could spend halloween together.
when i got back, the landlady had thrown the sculpture in the trash. it lay in a glad bag landfill of eggshells and orange rinds, looking very much like garbage after all.
a few weeks later, the day came and the bus deposited the boy on the corner in a flannel coat. his stringy blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail. he came in and sat on the bed, trying to warm up.
to make it onto the bed, sitting and warming up, it had taken the boy four years of letters and phone calls. it's still hard to understand why anyone would take that kind of time just to travel to new jersey.
we decided to go trick or treating even though he was 22. there was nothing to do in town, but the real reason was something i told him in the letters. he wanted to help me do this hard thing called have fun. this maneuvor of labor, laughing. i hope you will never understand what i mean by that.
i went downstairs and got the tin foil from the cupboard and i covered him from head to toe. he covered me in cellophane and garbage ties. we went around knocking on all the doors with pumpkins in front of them, two too-old mummies in love.
it was around 11p and it was time for him to go home. we sat down on the curb to wait for his bus. earlier at the diner, i saw pieces of his face almost next to mine, parts of his nose and teeth very close to me. i think his woolly hat was on my head. and he fed me something where my mouth was on his finger. every hair that brushed my face was linked to words on a page of a letter, and in his head was every single thing i'd ever said in the dark. other people, like my mom, they only saw a young girl's ass looking tight in velvet pants. but even that, the boy knew about. he knew about it all.
somewhere down the frost crusted street the two yellow eyes of the bus blinked. it was still far away and there was still time. the boy took a deep breath and put his arm around my shoulder. it kind of hung there like a bagette. but after a few seconds of feeling like a breadstick, the arm got heavier and firmer and started to feel like a human embrace. and the arm stayed there for the rest of my life, just resting on my shoulder, loving me and all the words in my head and all the music fighting for its life
i was reading the complete works of dostoevsky, living in the attic, practicing the cello for five or six hours a day. once or twice a semester i would give a concert in the university auditorium. i never dared to look at the audience because i was always shaking and pale from vomiting. i would just stare at the floor. but no matter how nervous i got, that pregnant, squirming to-the-death need to deliver would win and i'd go begrudgingly onstage to have another sonata baby in public.
for the sound of my russian soul weeping through burled cherry wood, the people put their hearts into their hands and applauded with muscle. the sound of clapping would burrow deep into my gut and maybe then i'd look up and see a smile or two. maybe i'd think, i wasn't delivering deformed monsters after all.
the blond chamber director took me aside and stared into my eyes. i had her love, she wanted me to know. and i would fall asleep in my mittens and hat in the freezing attic, feeling the sweet and sour sting of being noticed.
i was 19 at the time and i weighed 98 pounds. i remember, because my mother had come to visit and she commented on how attractive i was in my black velvet pants, hardly anything left of me but bones.
the boy's letter went on for twenty pages. inside the letter was always a little gift, like a sparkly band-aid or a cartoon kitten. he was a painter and so one day to be closer to him, i wanted to make a sculpture. i went out into the snow and gathered the damp limbs of trees. then i took a pocket knife and spent the afternoon whittling the wood into these slender, fluted shafts tied together with twine. I don't know if it was art, but to me it was magical to make something beautiful out of a pile of twigs.
Later that evening i walked in the dark along the railroad tracks to the deli to call the boy from a payphone. He said hello and that he would take the commuter train from new haven all the way to new jersey so we could spend halloween together.
when i got back, the landlady had thrown the sculpture in the trash. it lay in a glad bag landfill of eggshells and orange rinds, looking very much like garbage after all.
a few weeks later, the day came and the bus deposited the boy on the corner in a flannel coat. his stringy blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail. he came in and sat on the bed, trying to warm up.
to make it onto the bed, sitting and warming up, it had taken the boy four years of letters and phone calls. it's still hard to understand why anyone would take that kind of time just to travel to new jersey.
we decided to go trick or treating even though he was 22. there was nothing to do in town, but the real reason was something i told him in the letters. he wanted to help me do this hard thing called have fun. this maneuvor of labor, laughing. i hope you will never understand what i mean by that.
i went downstairs and got the tin foil from the cupboard and i covered him from head to toe. he covered me in cellophane and garbage ties. we went around knocking on all the doors with pumpkins in front of them, two too-old mummies in love.
it was around 11p and it was time for him to go home. we sat down on the curb to wait for his bus. earlier at the diner, i saw pieces of his face almost next to mine, parts of his nose and teeth very close to me. i think his woolly hat was on my head. and he fed me something where my mouth was on his finger. every hair that brushed my face was linked to words on a page of a letter, and in his head was every single thing i'd ever said in the dark. other people, like my mom, they only saw a young girl's ass looking tight in velvet pants. but even that, the boy knew about. he knew about it all.
somewhere down the frost crusted street the two yellow eyes of the bus blinked. it was still far away and there was still time. the boy took a deep breath and put his arm around my shoulder. it kind of hung there like a bagette. but after a few seconds of feeling like a breadstick, the arm got heavier and firmer and started to feel like a human embrace. and the arm stayed there for the rest of my life, just resting on my shoulder, loving me and all the words in my head and all the music fighting for its life
Dec 9, 2013
Taste Test
I leak blood into your water
that's why you notice me.
Swoon all over me like I'm a celebrity.
You call me unusual, eye me
like a novelty, a disquieting anomaly
can't believe I could have developed
independently, you like to marvel
at my ability to manage the gash
circling around with your
shark cock, camera ready to flash
My smell creeps into your nostrils
and you can't help yourself.
My weakness makes you wet yourself.
You're dressed in pink with rosy cheeks
pinstripes and daisies and feminist icons
wearing women's clothes ironically
maybe you'll put me in your screenplay
you want to be my ally
make a perfume from my tears and my howl
grind my thoughts into a pate for a cracker
collect the little patch of grass
I struggled to grow out of dogshit
styrofoam cups and broken glass
act insulted when I keep a secret
entitled to nakedness by some unspoken pact
separated from me by a chasm shut out
from the exquisite privacy of the dark deep sea
where all us tragedies dive
where all us outcasts bleed
that's why you notice me.
Swoon all over me like I'm a celebrity.
You call me unusual, eye me
like a novelty, a disquieting anomaly
can't believe I could have developed
independently, you like to marvel
at my ability to manage the gash
circling around with your
shark cock, camera ready to flash
My smell creeps into your nostrils
and you can't help yourself.
My weakness makes you wet yourself.
You're dressed in pink with rosy cheeks
pinstripes and daisies and feminist icons
wearing women's clothes ironically
maybe you'll put me in your screenplay
you want to be my ally
make a perfume from my tears and my howl
grind my thoughts into a pate for a cracker
collect the little patch of grass
I struggled to grow out of dogshit
styrofoam cups and broken glass
act insulted when I keep a secret
entitled to nakedness by some unspoken pact
separated from me by a chasm shut out
from the exquisite privacy of the dark deep sea
where all us tragedies dive
where all us outcasts bleed
Nov 1, 2012
peacocks
i read about this glass house --
she lived in it and he watched.
except for a small trap door
where the man's eyes couldn't penetrate,
she lived exposed-
and in this house she had these peacocks
a showstopping brood - ultramarine and kelly green
dazzling legs on a chorus line -
tin rabbits on a racetrack leading the greyhounds on
she, making these cakes,
full of thick butter and fats,
daily humiliation of having to pee
in a glass gazebo
watched like a hawk.
bought and sold peacock payments
a hostage under a dome
commodity paintings and poems
commodity scales of compliance
on the harp he bought and installed
her legs sliced up like a pie
her art in a vase of fancy feathers
her body -- manipulated flesh dish
and a name like Muffin or Candy
or Cum-on Betty --
but at night the trap door opened
to the ocean and its asylum depths
unbounded imagination reef
a place immune to his obsession
mermen who openly wept
at a fish's death
wild seahorses with electric hearts
making sea anemone mushroom beats
secret sinkholes of moontime living
and one day she did not return -
and these peacocks and their prizes
and all the music of compliance
the supply and demand
of men's eyes - abandoned
a glass wasteland of defection
defied glass ghost town
of forget-my-face
she lived in it and he watched.
except for a small trap door
where the man's eyes couldn't penetrate,
she lived exposed-
and in this house she had these peacocks
a showstopping brood - ultramarine and kelly green
dazzling legs on a chorus line -
tin rabbits on a racetrack leading the greyhounds on
she, making these cakes,
full of thick butter and fats,
daily humiliation of having to pee
in a glass gazebo
watched like a hawk.
bought and sold peacock payments
a hostage under a dome
commodity paintings and poems
commodity scales of compliance
on the harp he bought and installed
her legs sliced up like a pie
her art in a vase of fancy feathers
her body -- manipulated flesh dish
and a name like Muffin or Candy
or Cum-on Betty --
but at night the trap door opened
to the ocean and its asylum depths
unbounded imagination reef
a place immune to his obsession
mermen who openly wept
at a fish's death
wild seahorses with electric hearts
making sea anemone mushroom beats
secret sinkholes of moontime living
and one day she did not return -
and these peacocks and their prizes
and all the music of compliance
the supply and demand
of men's eyes - abandoned
a glass wasteland of defection
defied glass ghost town
of forget-my-face
Jun 22, 2012
bradass87
Bradley Manning strung up lamb
eat our young
swear allegiance
to numb as a tank
while the good ol boys
keep the fake peace
we pay for as a nation of sheep
we all were boys who once wept for
wounded birds, i swear we were all once sentient and kind
but after the beatings and drinking and daily lies
not every soldier survives
i did
but i'm still bleeding from every hole
staring at the scales
that weigh to kill or to heal
eat our young
swear allegiance
to numb as a tank
while the good ol boys
keep the fake peace
we pay for as a nation of sheep
we all were boys who once wept for
wounded birds, i swear we were all once sentient and kind
but after the beatings and drinking and daily lies
not every soldier survives
i did
but i'm still bleeding from every hole
staring at the scales
that weigh to kill or to heal
Jun 21, 2012
aqua velva
razor blood rained down
from his chin
he kept cutting it up
putting toilet paper
ink blots on the pocks
his shoulder freckles
fell into my hands
like tinsel i couldn't peel
sticking to me against my will
the shower was beating
out the whistling
he did while he worked
rolling rock bottles
sweating green glass drops
the mirror getting fogged up
veiling his laugh
and underneath the laugh,
these mangled mewls
mesmerizing me in place
every hour i shuddered
through the throbs of impalement
blue eyes rotating
like sirens in silence
watching him kill
in the stale, camel-smell air
his pain
having become this fat, waxed weapon
swung my way like a pendulum
that never went back to its side
Feb 17, 2012
seedy stories.
Who:
An ex-erotic entertainer, Brunhilda und Kriemhilda, Chuck Norris, Dmitri Shostakovich, Hagar the Horrible, Jehova, Kamikaze Cocktail Waitress, Kojak, Lando Calrissian, Little Bunny Fufu, Luther Vandross, Mr. Peanut, Pizzaface, R Kelly Cult Members, REO Speedwagon, Teenage Suicide Bomber, Tesla, The 69th Dalai Lama, The Death Cheater, The Fugitive Kind, The Last Albino Contortionist, The Marlboro Man, The poet laureate of New Jersey
what:
Adult Onset Chicken Pox, bad juju, Cinnamon Toast, competetive karaoke , dismemberment, dry humping, erotomania, face blindness, horticulture, hot yoga, lady fingers, manwich greed, peanut butter methadone, Pony Rides $.25, pooper scooper, reverse vasectomy, snake eyes, Snoopy phobia, stomach stapling, tax fraud, tiramisu, Toltec revival, Yakuza bachelor party
when:
11th inning, 1973 Iditarod, after a friendly fire funeral, apocalypse, between a rock and a hard place, Bingo Night, black thursday, boiling point, checkmate, day of the locust, half past a freckle, Howard Johnson Happy Hour, La Quinceanera, Marti Gras, menopause, Miller time, Nixon administration, prom, sasquatch, the Golden Years, the resurrection, Valentine's Day, visiting hours
where:
African Missionary Pot Luck, cerebral cortex, coral reef, Dairy Queen Drive Thru, gorgonzola trade show, Lover's Lane, Meat Freezer, Mr. Roger's Neighborhood, Peanut Gallery, Plaid Pantry Purgatory, Porn Museum, Silver Falls, Sing Sing Correctional Facility, spacetime continuum, spanish harlem, the gazebo, The Slums of Puget Sound, Times Square Peep Show, Union Jack's, Vegas RV park, Verrazano Bridge, WKRP in Cincinnati
why:
carpal tunnel of the mind, casino crimes, coffee enema, community service sentence, compromised diary entry, corn candy klepto, ethnic cleansing, food stamp forgery, hemroids, needlepoint injury, neoteny, out of order tampax machine, pedophile family reunion, penis pump, postpartum depression, premature baldness, Psychic Friends Network Crash, scabies, stolen rolex start up, T-mobile takeover, virgin sacrifice, whiteout, Yaba Task Force
how
advanced alien surveillance technology, by the skin of my balls, baby, by tying two dirty sheets together with licorice, cold turkey, cool whip, don't ask don't tell, embroidered, hot air balloons for dummies, in a pinch, mescaline, piecemeal, propelled by the wheel of karma, resisting arrest, suffocation with a Bambi pillow, The Monty Hall Paradox, tic tac toe, to Neil Diamond's greatest hits, unlubricated, with a coat hanger, with a turkey baster, with mommy's permission, with two sticks of Land O' Lakes, you put the cigarettte to the silk
An ex-erotic entertainer, Brunhilda und Kriemhilda, Chuck Norris, Dmitri Shostakovich, Hagar the Horrible, Jehova, Kamikaze Cocktail Waitress, Kojak, Lando Calrissian, Little Bunny Fufu, Luther Vandross, Mr. Peanut, Pizzaface, R Kelly Cult Members, REO Speedwagon, Teenage Suicide Bomber, Tesla, The 69th Dalai Lama, The Death Cheater, The Fugitive Kind, The Last Albino Contortionist, The Marlboro Man, The poet laureate of New Jersey
what:
Adult Onset Chicken Pox, bad juju, Cinnamon Toast, competetive karaoke , dismemberment, dry humping, erotomania, face blindness, horticulture, hot yoga, lady fingers, manwich greed, peanut butter methadone, Pony Rides $.25, pooper scooper, reverse vasectomy, snake eyes, Snoopy phobia, stomach stapling, tax fraud, tiramisu, Toltec revival, Yakuza bachelor party
when:
11th inning, 1973 Iditarod, after a friendly fire funeral, apocalypse, between a rock and a hard place, Bingo Night, black thursday, boiling point, checkmate, day of the locust, half past a freckle, Howard Johnson Happy Hour, La Quinceanera, Marti Gras, menopause, Miller time, Nixon administration, prom, sasquatch, the Golden Years, the resurrection, Valentine's Day, visiting hours
where:
African Missionary Pot Luck, cerebral cortex, coral reef, Dairy Queen Drive Thru, gorgonzola trade show, Lover's Lane, Meat Freezer, Mr. Roger's Neighborhood, Peanut Gallery, Plaid Pantry Purgatory, Porn Museum, Silver Falls, Sing Sing Correctional Facility, spacetime continuum, spanish harlem, the gazebo, The Slums of Puget Sound, Times Square Peep Show, Union Jack's, Vegas RV park, Verrazano Bridge, WKRP in Cincinnati
why:
carpal tunnel of the mind, casino crimes, coffee enema, community service sentence, compromised diary entry, corn candy klepto, ethnic cleansing, food stamp forgery, hemroids, needlepoint injury, neoteny, out of order tampax machine, pedophile family reunion, penis pump, postpartum depression, premature baldness, Psychic Friends Network Crash, scabies, stolen rolex start up, T-mobile takeover, virgin sacrifice, whiteout, Yaba Task Force
how
advanced alien surveillance technology, by the skin of my balls, baby, by tying two dirty sheets together with licorice, cold turkey, cool whip, don't ask don't tell, embroidered, hot air balloons for dummies, in a pinch, mescaline, piecemeal, propelled by the wheel of karma, resisting arrest, suffocation with a Bambi pillow, The Monty Hall Paradox, tic tac toe, to Neil Diamond's greatest hits, unlubricated, with a coat hanger, with a turkey baster, with mommy's permission, with two sticks of Land O' Lakes, you put the cigarettte to the silk
our lady of delay
it's alright to hesitate
we're not getting older
we're like stars that started late
and we know,
we know that we're late
but we're still coming over
there's got to be a way
to make sense of what they've done
their hands are bathed in blood
from the daily castration
of those fucking haircuts
when you kissed me in the film
i thought all the miracles
were found in the lost mail
with Our Lady of Delay
on a strange medallion
we're not getting older
we're like stars that started late
and we know,
we know that we're late
but we're still coming over
there's got to be a way
to make sense of what they've done
their hands are bathed in blood
from the daily castration
of those fucking haircuts
when you kissed me in the film
i thought all the miracles
were found in the lost mail
with Our Lady of Delay
on a strange medallion
dreamcatcher
1.
for what i have contributed
geographics, lies,
all the solitary times
im sorry.
this large pool of
broken severed ties, fractured
dislodged connections...uprooted
and can't get the good soil
or enough regular sun
type life
u know what it's like to be numb all the time.... then these strange
uncontrollable free agents
with their great n'greasy casual love
in an otherwise barren wasteland
carelessly feeding
tossing an essential fatty rib
to what you tried to starve or kill
whoever put u in a corner, fuck.
please believe,
they had no right.
2.
in those days
this breaks my heart
the crisp cold air
central park numbness wearing off
both sweet and noxious smells
wafting through the dreamcatcher of a lonely kid
no windbreaker against despair
refusing to wear my jacket or my shoes or hat
in the snow again, with no shoes or jacket or hat
sick as a dog again getting the backhanded slap
of the wind and the sleet
a fever would buy some time alone
this care-proof scam
ufo's over the picasso statue
the creaking radiator and the drapes snoring
shadows on the black and white tv
hanger antenna
hiding in the closet
mothballs and roach spray
in the no-one ness of the night
a ritual to steady myself
go to the mirror
into my own eyes
Big blue earths descending
blue neptunes with triton blinks
to a twin soul a double self
an auxiliary person stashed
in the safety of the glass
retrievable, intact, unaware
for what i have contributed
geographics, lies,
all the solitary times
im sorry.
this large pool of
broken severed ties, fractured
dislodged connections...uprooted
and can't get the good soil
or enough regular sun
type life
u know what it's like to be numb all the time.... then these strange
uncontrollable free agents
with their great n'greasy casual love
in an otherwise barren wasteland
carelessly feeding
tossing an essential fatty rib
to what you tried to starve or kill
whoever put u in a corner, fuck.
please believe,
they had no right.
2.
in those days
this breaks my heart
the crisp cold air
central park numbness wearing off
both sweet and noxious smells
wafting through the dreamcatcher of a lonely kid
no windbreaker against despair
refusing to wear my jacket or my shoes or hat
in the snow again, with no shoes or jacket or hat
sick as a dog again getting the backhanded slap
of the wind and the sleet
a fever would buy some time alone
this care-proof scam
ufo's over the picasso statue
the creaking radiator and the drapes snoring
shadows on the black and white tv
hanger antenna
hiding in the closet
mothballs and roach spray
in the no-one ness of the night
a ritual to steady myself
go to the mirror
into my own eyes
Big blue earths descending
blue neptunes with triton blinks
to a twin soul a double self
an auxiliary person stashed
in the safety of the glass
retrievable, intact, unaware
Feb 10, 2012
dog
grey white mutton chop
muppet monster tongue bath
trying to scrub my hair
while i sit in the tub
crunch and munch
get your snow pants on
where is your ball
my friend my son
who I pray will never understand
the cruelty of human hands
muppet monster tongue bath
trying to scrub my hair
while i sit in the tub
crunch and munch
get your snow pants on
where is your ball
my friend my son
who I pray will never understand
the cruelty of human hands
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