the winds are high today,
blowing my ghostly visage
in a westerly direction;
all i can do is breathe
deep in my torso,
asinine smile
and remain silent.
when traffic is thick and palatable,
the use of yr mind is naught.
contemplations of dashing out
into the clogged road
and filling the asphalt
with my desiccated sort;
making love to the limitless road;
abandoning the olive branches and pale deserts
where we join the firmament above
becomes a corporeal notion.
so i strike myself on a match
of natural proportions
and breathe deeply
its indisputable fumes;
watching it burn,
tall and complimentary;
an essence of my post-filtered ash.
silence escape lips ajar.
eyes leech off the flame
modestly traveling
the straight and narrow
paper path.
memories, out of focus;
filled with large font adhesive text
and leering bully pulpits
and by g-d,
let’s get this show on the road.
gridlock is steady,
and i am restless;
without restraints or facial hair
or championship rings to brace my fall.
i don’t think this is hell,
but i’m ready to know what heaven is.
all i can muster
is a nouvelle-vague
remembrance of
that sunset
on that quiet evening
that late summer
and that those
ruby-lipped fireworks
cracked and fizzled
against a post-effervescent sky
and faded away
into curtain-less blinds
i drop another cigarette
in an empty bottle
and complete
my transformation from
total intervention
to
laissez-faire
i listen
to the songs of
dancing queens
filling the stale air
at three in the morning
when nothing
sounds like a dream
and everything
begins to come true
one way
or another
and i’m pretty sure
a smile
(or whatever happiness
is called these days)
drapes my face
i haven’t eaten since reagan was president
she said.
i laughed blood.
i tried to untie myself but i was a kept man.
actually, i quite enjoyed the freedom.
she wandered out of sight,
≈ fourteen feet away.
exact distance, i couldn’t perceive;
i wasn’t spectacled at the time.
staring at empty drywall
gives life a sullen purpose,
a maiden voyage,
a bone appetite
for something pure,
like lemoncello
or maple syrup
or bankruptcy.
i’d settle for just
one of the above.
she returned post-haste
with a plate of quarters,
a vacant diamond mine
and enough incense
to fill a claw-foot bathtub.
it’s gonna be a long night.
the american dream is dead
like flowers in snow
or so says suze orman
but contrary to popular belief
it is still possible to board a train
and choo-choo to a new disguise
under the cover of ”art”
or “rebellion”
or “sentimentality”
the steam also rises in the east young man
still it is so simple
to fade away into a wandering life
littered with scars and probable cause
lacking the need for a warrant
or a mattress
or censorship
the rails are still parallel and go west
every time you see a broken stoplight
or a dead garden
or socks with holes in the toes
(those reminders of a time
when two dollars meant
the world was attainable
and practical
and green)
do you think of parallel lines
the bespoke
white jacket
and shoes
sans laces
were the same
only
these “prison” walls
are colder
than last time
i booked a room
especially tonight
as the rain comes
and the grouted grooves
direct precipitation
to act the part of tears
in the production of
my self-imposed sentence
for an audience of
ONE
someday soon
i’ll be on fire
and they’ll let me walk
right out of these confines
boarding pass in hand
taste of bacon and eggs
in my mouth
even then
the doctors will snicker
behind closed doors
under hushed tweed
and medicated snores
keep his cell
warm and padded
he’ll be back
shakespeare
that prick
at least he knew a thing or two
truth
feelings
me
JACK
SHIT
but i’m trying my best to get by
without causing too much pain
keep trying boy
you’ll get it someday
someday i’ll come to that realization
everything dies
all that matters is
EXODUS
CATHARSIS
HAPPINESS
ASCENSION
i can almost grasp it
in my blood-stained palms
i have killed the monarch
i feel no remorse
the queen is now laughing
hysterical with tears
and so am i
i’m pretty sure
we’ve gone mad
WHO CARES
this uncertain future
has a profound satisfaction in it
the air is cold
here
in december
i blow into my palms to stay warm
i smell blood
the man in the boat
was taking on water
at an extravagant rate
when i found him
he hit the tip
of an iceberg
and not even
emptying the ballasts
could save him
i smiled nasty
said
let him drown
and went on
with my business
(which was thriving
like a coral reef
prior to
“global warming”)
of sampling the menu
laid out before me
dinnertime comes
but once a day
and my current
meal regiment
demands
satisfaction
right now
i’m eating
like aristocracy
and no
“hardworking taxpayer”
like a fisherman
or a cop
or a secretary
could get me to finish
before i feel full
and my plate
is licked clean
i am beyond
GONE
lost into oblivion
never to return
it is a freedom
seldom experienced
by mere mortals
only by the gods
of this grand experiment
we know as
life
transference
between
ALL THAT
is
GOOD
or
EVIL
or
EVERYTHING
IN
BETWEEN
such a fermentation
takes place
but once
every time
you laugh
so laugh
MORE
the inclination
is
THERE
i grind my teeth
at night
because i don’t speak
to you
enough
when
i’m awake
it’s
the only way
i know how to make up
for my
daylight
silence
look closely
my incisors
have taken on
the look
of vampire fangs
i’m pretty sure
it’s time
i drink
yr blood
i pray
it tastes good
like cheeseburgers
or
commitment
because
the sun is quick-rising
and
my jaw is swollen-sore
and
i’ve grown tired of being
empty-hungry
an empty peanut shell
tumbled down the stairs
from the upper deck
STRIKE HIS ASS OUT
yelled the drunk
his colors
painted on his face
his breath
smelling of a single father
tadpoles
grow legs,
walk on water,
spawn more
tadpoles
and eventually
die.
i’ve never walked
on water,
but my friend
once told
me
it’s all
the rage
in
East Berlin.
someday
soon
i hope
to spawn
and eventually
die;
just
not today.
first,
i would like
to grow legs.
as the day
finally ended
its miserable life,
i saw a star,
possibly a satellite
(i’m no astronomer),
flicker
and burn
against the velvet
backdrop sky,
there will come a point
in due time
when seduction will be regarded
as the only law of physics
there comes a time in a man’s life
when taking food off a stranger’s table
becomes more than just a parlour trick
and less of a fight for his survival.
it’s at that moment when you notice
nothing is ever really well in the world,
and you begin to finally realize
the truth in ashbery’s words:
somewhere someone is traveling furiously toward you.
