(no subject)
told u id do this
41
touch your
wet kitten
nose to mine
and rest
on my chest
or in the seats
of my car
as i drive
you must be
drowsy as
the dips ive
watched in
the powerlines
going
up and down
blinking and
fading like
true black
heavy lids
in front of
a third quarter moon
with clouds slinking
in fingerpainted strokes
just below
the treeline
touch with
a little kiss
and then collapse
you asleep has me
splendid silent
knowing i am
so artfully
suspended
in the living
incommunicable
dew of your
dreaming
42
heres a cigarette my pack is yours
im only stealing away for a moment
as fred astaire is calling with
percussive choreography
ill always grab you a glass of water
smooth as all his casual bows
cept theres no tapping from my shoes
its only my joints creaking
my mom nailed it: in utero
and said 'love is a musical'
and 'the less that we possess the less desired'
so a blind mans singing daisy dreams
coast cool like blanketed blue seas
after the promise of a red night falling
43
romeo and juliet had a comfortable love
and perused separate libraries
never with themselves in mind
as what was hers was his
as what was his was hers
she flew on down as a naive ladybug
and crawled across his arm as if
her hand was squeezing his so tight
that he could never leave
moving pictures and her life
were picnicing songs in a generous reality
when she pulled the sandwiches
out of the wicker basket
and placed them atop
the bluegreen seas of
sweaty daisy sheets
it was as if theyd collapsed timeless
sharing childrens warmth and lovefool pictures
in a nest on the rained in sofa
they were both fools for pedal steel
and the lords plausible truisms
meshing together in that idle cocoon
through whisper-sung words
traded wet between earlobes:
'to everything
there is a season
and a time for every purpose
under heaven'
pools of blinking eyes fixed on the tube
while storms still twisted outside and she turned
'now is the time to be born sir romeo'
and his smile bounded on back to her
with the grace and wisdom
of a kite flying boy when he said
with complete release 'and now too's
a time to die dearest juliet'
44
'nu-uh' burst
blonde maggie
in the cozy coupe
'thats not what kissin is'
a plastic wheel
swiveled
in the gravel
crumpling like
the paper of a
trashed idea
'its like this'
and she clumsy
bowed her head
planting with weight
one on her
teddys cold
button nose
he, then, convinced
galloped from stone
to stepping stone
with the brevity
of my wild horse fingers
treading soft
across your palm
45
we are broadchested men in womens bodies
making a huffed return after football on the hill
we snuffed coke in the bathrooms
and happily drank ourselves to sleep
we bear three gifts (1) muted television
(2) hipbones for your fingertipping pleasure
and (3) green green warm tomorrow
now that weve avoided the firepit
on our patterns into an ill placed endzone
now that weve gathered a days worth
of various backwoods mississippi accoutrements:
(1) walking stick approximately three feet in length
(2) drenched boxer shorts crusted quietly
in red sediment and (3) wreckless blasphemy
now that weve climbed the flimsy trees
and jumped carelessly into the unnatural
pond dug beside the deerstand weve,
yes you can count them, three (3) questions:
(1) what was the score again?
(2) where do you keep your sugar? and
(3) when oh when do go back again?
we hope our inquiry is met with focus
and due concern as our faces have begun
to drag under the weight of the women
of the joes of the lies and of the desire
and we remember that summer heat
quelled by the icy saccharine embrace
of a dive into a quick pool of lemonade
46
blue as the bruise on your leg
was the sky when the power died
and sure enough
you ended up in the pool
under the peering stars
a blue girl with a blue love
or blue like when
louisiannes air sends her two legs
around the sun and squeezes into dusk
pinching out the other wavelengths
so much blue like the light
from an aquarium
lulls me with a smile
and sticks its tongue out at me
you know like the ones you get
when youre cooling down in midsummer
kissing a halfdreamt azure popsicle
47
my father stretched the hammock
between trees in the yard
that was meant as an investment
but has turned into a hybrid garden
so few bucks got him that bed
to string for his only
but still more than he paid
for the seeds of those trees
he would take us to the zoo
and hold us on his shoulders
while he pillaged the elephant exhibits
for exotic trunks to set in the soil
of his domesticated eden
but even a few more bucks
left his hand for the leathery fist
of a mexican beach busker
and his extended finger found his bride
as quick as i could find your keys
when the nylon strings sang out
a full song for her in stale salty harmony
the sea ebbed and flowed
and my mother smiled
cause the songs like the sea
saw the sways 'neath her canopy
of sleepy lovers vacationing
in the shade of their own backyard
48
sometimes
when you jump
from the roof
of the playhouse
you land on
not so friendly
cypress knees
and the love
of my life
walked into
coach at the
mall lookin
for a bag
while i sat
thinking
underwater
on a bench
if you turn
your head
real fast,
we figured,
its such a
wah-wahed
vibrato
oh how we
all interact
john cage,
i do my best
thinking when
my ears are
bubbling:
spheres escaping
like when she
decided there was
no bag for her
today and turned
and left
49
skipping pebbles off ponds
or your second floor windows
trying to wake you up
because the traffic was so bad
and i could always call in sick
fifteen missed calls and ray charles
or booker t and the mgs
when id drive down highland
at six am snaking through
foggy foreign hills and always sleepy
from the same porch too where id sit
with reeve and smoke cigarettes
or where we rolled and learned
ben folds songs round
a vaporub campfire and then
even practiced yoga on the lawn
beside the warped and molding
shelves we stole from
the garbage across the street
like four legs twisted together
cept ones a fog and ones just morning
and ones a pebble and ones asleep;
memories are divinely complex
as if all the corners of the room
were shouting different bits out at you
i sat on the porch with aurora (alone)
and the shelves dipped further with the dew
when you finally noticed
your phone had been ringing
i was no longer a noble abandoned idea
waiting for cleanup and restoration
i was a spark of experience
beginning with a speck what now
is probably a priceless pearl
or just a slick remembering pebble
50
jack daniels its not fair
that i grow old and sink
and you age only to gather
barky barrel flavor
jack daniels its not fair
that you can wear black
and hang in shadows
while i soak in too much heat
garnering hallucinations
jack daniels its not fair
that you give away your faces
like the widening ripples
reeling from a raindrop
especially now that
i am so centered and
i promise so much better
jack daniels its not fair
youre never bitter and you sure
as hell dont make me sick
id pour you over my wounds
or just take sips of warmth
when a sharp north wind blows
jack daniels its not fair
just cause i walk and vibrate
i hear your tongues and giggles
repeated and repeated
til the bubbles graze my eyelashes
and im drowned beneath
the browning waves of
too much hope and
not enough time
51
a vase and a bottle of white wine
stood in the center of the dining room table
as two nurturing obelisks of stickysoft contour
the vase held just tulips and the wine
boasted curves of a confident ms taylor
but thats not nearly where we were just yet
and in fact the vase was alive in her closet
and knew i was dozing away in her bed
slits of light fell as draperies down her
sides and her thighs as she balanced
on one foot with a cloudy chin in the air
or the wine was the bud of her bottom
when it never quite rained enough and
i lifted it quickly to the bathroom countertop
pushing her shoulders through the dark
against the cool glance of the mirror
and sending plastic bottles and toothbrushes
bouncing through the sink to scatter
in the secrets and shadows of unlit corners
and with the vase i escaped again too
on our first sunglassed and chilly vacation
peeling back the petals of the tulip
atop the porcelain platform of a toilet seat
there was never quite enough room and
the doors we couldnt figure how to lock
but it only fused us ever closer as we
struggled together to rise and stand open
and then the vase and the bottle we swept away
when we figured it was time to claim the table
you were then my little lying monument and i
enraptured by the sticky sweetness that
brings to the flowers each and every bee
kissing and praying to remember that form
i could so easily with the same two hands
recreate with soggy earth and timid fingers
your side and everything from heel to head
as from a dream but as real today as it was when
id first laid staring and spent after twisting
watching you dance with the light through
the blinds picking out some clean clothes
52
girl in a green velvet dress
i seen you in houston
looking like the first one
(the last time i was
ever comfortable)
and carrying the bag of the second
(where i was never
full on present)
i also saw you at jacks in the city
and was good and plastered
or maybe i was imagining things
i tapped your shoulder
i mean otherwise weve never spoken
but theres lines and lines
(of coke?) and verse
ive strummed along to hopelessly
with something of you clearly in mind
(something of a lot of things)
someone drank too much
and puked in front of where we sat
after my sister and i played
pointless hungover drinking games
(it was really no use
i just sorta felt sick)
the venue staff covered
it with towels and held conversation
over the mop cause after all
this is day to day
this is nightlife(?) really?
i watched you walk with the skinny boy
right out the door and i wanted
to go and smoke a cigarette with you
or maybe i just like watching
people leave
or girls in my brains at least
(i drink too much) i want to tell you
skinny boys are no good
the strokes are done anyway
and wouldnt you rather the velvets?
(the second surely knows
and i hope im in that wedding)
cmon, im really a good boy
i promise
just imagine how surprised i was!
i even sat mixing up hank williams
and trying to write you another song
after i saw you at the store
trying on that dress
(that you never bought)
i couldnt finish it either
there was no magic and it would
never do you justice but
just imagine how surprised i was
after wed parked the car
neath some oak and round
the corner from the prostitutes
we walked up and there you were
fair as a jobim song
and lilting
i dream and dream and
after nights of drinking
catch biographies on television
(when i wake up truly parched)
i cant sleep and i cant think but
just like my father drawing the prints
for this house (and blakes apparently)
i can still imagine where i could have lived with the first
(the last time i was ever comfortable)
and where i did live with the second
(where i was never full on present)
or where id hope to live with the third
(an amalgamation of so many
portuguese speaking women)
and last where id fantastically live with you
(girl in a green velvet dress) and guitars
in a barefoot hut that squirms through a flood
in a timeless treed forest with your freckles
and her swings and a coverless joyce's ulysses
(im pretty sure thats where i may be
comfortable again)
53
ashlee simpson (has collapsed)!
fell under the forks and knives
for an unsympathetic nosejob
i dont care how well you can sing
cause fo real i cant either
i could chill you out and steal your money
and even though we painted
over the wood panel walls with blue
theres still old brown shag carpet in my room
i could trick you and wed have some fun
maybe have some green eggs and ham
maybe talk some shit about someone we know
maybe bathe and light candles yea?
but first theres this party tonight
and im inviting you cause i like your old nose
and wish you woulda kept it and cause
girl you just make me feel so dirty
and i sure as hell dont just kinda like it
54
almost a new moon
and the fishes play the garage
all the celebrities are there
(its kinda like desolation row)
but even with supreme court justices
a drunk one eyed jack of diamonds
tries to ash his cigarette in the tray
vibrating on top of the amplifier
troy is a trojan horse drinking budweiser
dead old lady skin wafts off 50s newspapers
kings and queens run out the door to puke
lee shows up and doesnt bring lindsay lohan
though i mean he really should have
cause we got the stripper pole from big boi
and turned it into a firemans escape
she might as well be prancing while we try to play
i mean i dont see her on walls enough
she wouldnt even have to wear anything
and how about natalie portman too
because no one cares its just noisy and fucked
like a barefoot cowshit fence hop for mushrooms
fishes turn it louder cause they dont know anything else
jack of diamonds says to eric clapton
'wheres a red house? whose dorals?'
ashes another cigarette but imagines
a tray hell never miss big as a plate
and a toilet full of shit and clogged
and a policeman suspicious of a noise from the highway
and no one even complaining (i wouldve)
other side of the garage frida sits in a tub and thinks
then paints it
hurts herself and shaves off her eyebrows
and they never grow back
ships and bloodied toes, freedom and fucking
cowskulls, lists, watercolour, washing machines
paris the unattainable celebrity behind bars
and her GORGEOUS married normal sister
fishes in the garage juggling through the circus
puttin a blonde girl in a wheelchair on the mantle
and burning fake logs in the fireplace
all the celebrities are there
rita hayworth gypsied out like rebecca has a tambourine
all the celebrites and their rust men boyfriends
that call me on the telephone
fishes destroyed and no ones dada on ecstacy
its just too much noise you cant focus
john lee hooker is there too
fussing with mustard and onions and chess
over duchamps 'descending' painting
wouldnt you think it nice to take a holepunch to it?
or just get really angry and throw things through it
just make alive art
im telling you lee shoulda brought lindsay lohan
and the staircase coulda been the firemans pole
just anything so you dont hear them
the fishes that is
who are really just pirates on too much rum
waking up full of regret with contact lenses
plastered in red to their eyeballs
ripping covers off books and reading things backwards
while the barge in the river spills oil on the banks
and a roadsign shakes with psychedelia
in horrid underwater america
55
sunrise (sunset)
silhouettes have no insides
cypress cuts the burgundy
crickets march out circles
in the shivering sod
timbers of the dock like
soggy pages turn up
their corners as ears
and listen--teeth chatter--
love swells like a whale
beneath an iceberg
sunset (sunrise)
the worlds finally asleep
half-spheres glued
to the heavy leaves
of an unfound clover
leather on the sofa creaks
nose grazing the wool
winter-bared trees wish
they were tucked under
and three unpressed
green hands, open,
lie patiently near
56
wrapped in plastic
playing soggy newspaper games
with robert e lee and his jacket
at six am a shower snuck in
(cant you hear that wind howl)
and sunrise came early
for leagues of water vapour
pushed straight up
i tied rags round my forehead
to sop up the sweat as i slept
and battled in my brains
with backwards crossword clues
struggling to stay awake
(behind the wheel) everything shifts
and it gets worse before it gets better
especially this summer heat
a young lady used to be my friend
but nows a friend of the jetstream
remembering with passivity
yet resonating completely with
dips in barometric pressure
and biting her tongue til
the competition has exhausted
all the midday moisture
and splurged filling ditches
nearly to the road
low slate clouds skip
over the roofs of suburban homes
when a green gowned lady
goes out for the days news
big squares of orange light
watch from her neighbors windows
turning their feathered necks
like tired owls
then inside the pages are
spread across the dining table
bleeding ink and curling
hoping to maybe be restored
57
glass of water
follow the leader
glass of water
i walk to the dock
and say 'whats that for?'
she has no words
just pulls it around her forehead
glass of water
hear the rain
glass of water
her eyes find parcels
on my person and read them
i have no words
and watch droplets pushed
sideways into the windows
glass of water
breathy purrs
glass of water
a boy juggles tomatoes
and throws the whisky
in the canal
she says 'i feel as if you know
just what im thinking'
glass of water
please dont go
glass of water
'but i had so much planned!'
(and so did i)
ill nod and bow, anything,
ive found so many songs
some even hidden
in the folds of that matted dog hair
glass of water
sod and silt
glass of water
i was asleep sitting
i was awake sitting
wondering why dawn and heat
didnt stir me earlier
or if id dreamt a luminous
trail from the leather to the bathroom
glass of water
morning alone
glass of water
even if everythings clear ill squint
'everything is so clear!'
'why yes blake thats what
everyone is tryin to paint
cept they cant'
drips from the roof cooled
the pavement near the doorway
glass of water
its not fair
glass of water
youve a nice shirt and
a nice headache and
to die for scented flowers
ive decided to center myself, patience,
and sniff packets of seeds
til i figure it out (please dont go)
glass of water
no one else
glass of water
58
dylans still alive
and i have a piano to move
1920s detuned or (interchangable)
permanent markered keys
higher octave c's pitch shifted like
(twinkle toed?) fireman siren overload
i can shout it from peaks! (nonexistent)
and refuse to attend his gigs
lorrain got no peaks got no baby
got nothin but open spaces
just like minnesota (catalonia?)
i know why i like you even though
ive never quite reached the north country
its cause where i live you know
(that car they bumpin wu-tang)
it used to be marsh really and
grandpa tried to homestead
but it was un-live-able
too wet no food mosquitoes
and these were formidable men (women)
from a much older continent
but then dirty southern oil men came
filled it all with dirt
cut canals (that we jump in)
plowed through with a railroad
and coaxed everyone into
driving their cars to walmarts and dmvs
(like a gold rush, free land?)
couldnt we all just have smoked with redskins?
fifty fifty though (rail grind)
and nothings that simple nor profitless
so theres cut canals and cow pastures
fruitful (says nick drake) and
boys who flip their trucks on wpa roads
(somebody needed a job, right?)
or pump diesel into wrong canisters
birthin more co2
but canals and pastures give air a gap
just like lorrain imagined (picturesque)
where you can go with your sister in spring
and get lost looking for clovers
or where you can go with your girl
when shes crying
and forget that youre people
when you shout
dylans still alive
(and its almost not even worth it!)
my prophesy, the empire falls
earth turns tree falls (no sound)
books burn two seconds
melodies again twinkle (little star)
she/he once was a true love
and again divine
59
if
there is
green where
the water from
the gutters drips
onto the pavement
and
if
there is
the flicker
of gods camera
silent on the horizon
and
if
there is a
cool moist air
shuffling through
the oak leaves
like a curious nose
peeking from under
the coat rack
and
if
the dogs eyes
are wet and its
whiskers greying
with a balanced
educated focus
and
if
marsh
mallows
were emptying clouds
and love letters
oatmeal cookies
be sure
the water table
is rising
and humble homes
foundations
cured
60
yes doll
you have to choose
theres at least two kinds of poems
ones that are solid single instances
like raindrops or teardrops
and those that stretch through time
so choose
and dont be too serious
play and dont want
youve got logical umbrellas
to ignore the little kisses if you like
but playing with the dogs
needs lots of time
for staring in their eyes and things
something happens when
theres no ignored chance
you could
if youre not forgetting
lose your bubble and look up
i mean i know theres at least two kinds
could be more?
could be less but
yes doll
you got to choose
61
wade into the water
when the tide is right
just about to waist level
and when the sun
is pinched colorful
by an atmospheric lense
sink some toes
in the silken smelly mud
hiding clawed blue bugs
and raise a chin to
the golden west
behind the bridge
slinks another woman
pear-round as the
sweltering two-oclock day
then shifting with yawns
down to indigo, violet,
nose grazing an ear
as she lays
62
used to have a pool here
used to be a rope
hung with big knots
like the ones they climb in gym
used to fish the bayou
pullin whiskered catfish
from a muddy gumbo
used to split the fences
of the deck with
squishy teeballs
used to call that little box
in the fort the sewer
used to stream a pinwheel
of puddle up my back
after thunderstorms
used to eat pawpaws
oreos and satsumas
used to skim a cotton bottom
across the lysoled coffee table
when no one was looking
used to tell my friends
'you know i never quite
felt like this--its strange
im awash, content'
used to stretch the violin
in the fogged out back of my car
by the concrete lakeshore and
used to hold her hands
cause the algae made
the steps so slippery
her heels could flee
from underneath
but i kinda like falling
what if when troy
jumped in the bogue chitto
he never hit
his mohawk just flapped
his cheeks filled with air
like errant pirate sails
and blissfully he fell
and fell, forever?
63
mailman nextdoor
two stories
astroturf, cocaine
bearskin rug
loft and bar
hardcore music
bounces around
when the refrigerator
is opened
she rode her bike over
and he met her there
dazed or confused
slept to the doors movie
thirtytwo ounces
budweiser, tallboy
teal leather sofa
covered in dust, grime
and when the cupholders
are folded out
theres cockroaches
stuffed animals
shattered glass
burning black grasshoppers
skate the tailgate
of a white f150
burnout rivers
of molten rubber
shoot off like fireworks
brandish motorcycle
crown royal
his friend said
'look at you all worried about women
youve gotta
reevaluate'
railroad tracks
fema trailer
cigarette burns
pepper the bare mattresses
across the floor
but theres an upstairs room
begging for inhabitance
its pink with an old bay window
and suffered renovations
the bathroom rises two feet
in level
and the light of the river
is broken
by the oak leaves
cardboard boxes
dirty magazines
broken doorlock
rattles when approached
with a screwdriver
they slept while
the bear was slain
and skinned
and the snow was
brushed from its
deepening furs;
kissed beneath
the covers while
someone asked
'where are they?'
64
tryin to keep me
in one place?
at the pediatricians office
there were model trains
that ran routes
through the waiting room
and otherwise
they used to skirt across
my little glazed boy eyes
when my breath was short
and duck off into tunnels,
through walls
and out of sight again
tryin to keep me
in one place?
its like they were
holding my shaking hands
with railroad hustlebustle
and you could hear
clear as a midnight whistle
when the wheels were about
to roll back into the room
same thing now,
tie another string on
long as i get to look
on up under there,
thighs (trains) and all,
i aint goin nowhere
65
heaven is in two places
and surrounded by
a chain link fence with barbed wire
and heavy leaden locks
that can sometimes be steps
so knowing this we broke in
when everyone was asleep
and splashed into the pool
loud as barefoot stomps
on a rickety hardwood floor
(which sometimes is loud
and sometimes aint)
in heaven you can
put your bare bottom on the steps
and howl up at the moon
so thats what she did and
in heaven you can
tell all your secrets quick
(even ones from yesterday)
and prod beehives with thirsty fingers
til theyre dripping with honey
so thats what i did
in still suburban mid-night
she rode the waterslide topless
and i grabbed at sideboob
stretching dawn past fourthirty,
engorged and shameless
lurking as an underwater submarine
and you can leave (like us)
just the same way you came
cept with slippery toes and
a body writhing from the viscous
pour of my nose and my tongue
watching out for snags
of twisted metal
then stumbling back to the ground
in rapture, enraptured
66
in my dream
you wore a yellow
baseball cap
golden hair
curling down
and out the sides
like beads
in a doorway
we were outside
the elementary school
hearing the hum
of air conditioners
kicking on
and lying on our backs
in the middle of
the basketball court
watching
st lawrences tears
trying to catch one
falling star
with two sets
of eyes
then you
buried your nose
in the side of
my shoulder and
left a silent kiss
before i could swing
my arms round
the small of your back
and pull you in
the sky sparked
fell and cried
and your own dreams
filtered through
the heat
of my embrace
like visions through
a stringy dreamcatcher
and love sat finally
on the rings of saturn
as our bellies
pressed together
67
wanna go horseback ridin?
my grandma has a floppy southern belle hat
and uncle a white picket fence lined course
the stables smell like the shit
that makes the trees grow
only cause it probably is and
how come youre so blonde?
i seen a picture of lindsay lohan yesterday
and i was so stoned and
she was with her friend and her mother
and sometimes i think about
james brown and 'try me' and 'think'
and marriot and she has a raspy voice
(be talkin all that raspy shit)
i could write the songs
and she could sang em
or wanna birthday party?
those are loud and everyone wants the camera
(especially lindsay lohans friends)
when one little girl walks wet haired
in a bathing suit on the ledge round the picnic table
another lords over friends and a birthday cake
with twelve candles and a daddy camcorder
(wet hair too and she) so blonde?
but horseback riding is quiet
you just hear the crickets and trots
everyones so sedate when theyre sitten on those muscles
must be some kinda fear thing
(or something patient)
and aint that nice cause
cant you tell the world is just all noise (like dis)
with no focus all dada words on words
on words on words on words
68
baobab,
little aretha
and you can
bang it out
on the toy piano
a halfway
rainbow
xylophone
ya momma
got you
felt hammering
keys
try a little
tender jive
darlins
pourin milk
for the kittens
percussive
on the elevated
hardwood
sunlit summer
showers
vein the window
condensation
sing girl
youre learnin
and your mother
tells me so
69
climb the steps
in singsong
if you can dance
i want to fuck you
because
you have rhythm
and thats good
for making babies
or i dont know
at least for fucking
my girl lives
like i talk
except better
when i am
thinking about 'bruh'
and fidgeting
she is jumping
on my lap
and saying
'COME ON'
70
sink in muddy hopscotch
loving you is like
a mississippi river bar band
on the busted
neon sign highway
watch how the river
splits the continent
winding like your dance
on the stage
forcing new bends
to hard crunk groove
and sweating
ashy alcohol
rollicking into
tambourine madness
gets doll
all rhythm and grinding
theres a pause
and then the rave up
screetching into
underwater volcano skronk
then the boogie
rises as fissured steam
pushing wet up
through your toes
its a soft
and saucy
humid soiree
drunk on lust
and fiery loving
in onehundred degree heat
bubbling a blues
right down from memphis,
alive and living
until passing out
71
with music in my head
i was snapping syncopated
bossa nova rhythm,
rusty springing in hops over
ones and twos
and studying the family (houseboat) photographs
on the refrigerator
then the dog was there
climbing up my leg
and pouting drowsy moon eyes
so i asked her questions,
'where is she? huh?
its not quite the same is it'
then someone else snapped and said,
'she likes me more than you!'
and then outside for a cigarette
before, when the dog followed me home
it was like dolphins with the houseboat
i was walking in the street and quiet
and he would disappear
in this houses bushes and round the fence
til i was convinced he was gone
then emerge stealthy again
im used to a juggling dogwalk
cause then she gets to pass (aah! like a samba)
but also return with new loving perspective
so she followed two new loves to the oak swing and
left me to ponder steel guitar and salty hula
back down on the driveway, recharging
stargazing per usual:
no more perseids (teaching patience)
but orion peeking from inevitable winter
with time suspended ill remember
how cold it was when we went to the parks
and photographs and carvings and
tree shadows over our imprinted initials
back inside as i had known
we were better together
shed sniffed new love with wet nose and paws (pause)
and now we both were tired
so i laid near her water bowl
in a nest of orange dog hair,
let her nap on my thighs
and swayed and sighed so simply happy
72
wrapped up
in the steaming
blue striped sheets
curled jenny awake
waiting in line
for the eclipse
dozed did
the green shirt boy
with a nose full of hair
sniffing and itching
just cause jenny
wanted a kiss
the hours
were counted
by pencil and pen
in endless notebooks
absolutely and
completely
just before
the sun arose
she turned and
gave him a nudge
those who
have wanted
and waited
are those
who reap rewards
terse as a halfhid moons
creamy skin
bare and swaying
finally in bed
73
just come sleep over really
i found the song you should hear
are you portuguese yet?
are there schools there where you can volunteer?
can we dance in the kitchen?
i found the song you should hear
put some clothes on and come over
we could slow dance and fuck and
watch television and learn to cook and
grow some baobabs and take a nap and
hustle and juggle and fumble and everything
just come sleep over really
it goes like--'baby
baby
i love you'
74
'up the stairs, marianne!'
she peeks from the window down
to parisian hustle bustle
and throws her coat to the ground
from the roof the sky stretches
under the bridge and the smell of tomatoes
sinks over cobblestone roads;
then the wind blows
to buckets of beaded periwinkle
dodging the heels of curious birds
'see, now my eyes dont dart !' blurs
her finally, out of focus
here too she can bury her face in the sand
just its quasars flickering in atmosphere
75
speakers and children
counted down from '10,
9, 8--' and the sun sank
with bugs past the bubble horizon
a set of shoed toes
lingered on the dustdry turf
hung from the balloons basket
dodging everyones
hotair photographs
huffed jenny, 'which is your favorite?'
and he spun right around in a daze
'the one with the diagonals !'
their pace stretched taut
as the lines tethering airships wanting rise
'--2, 1, burn !' as he paused
their retreat breathing hot on her cheeks
and in a puff a balloonmans toes
lifted from the ground and laughed
as the rest of the sun dove
76
outside
the tree is planting seeds
on the softest idea
purple flowers like helicopters
twist like springs down in drips
the little fan oscillates
and makes the sound of a lawnmower
pushed slow across the sod
tape doesnt
hold the rugs in place and
vinyl records on the wall lose tack
three days ago sunflowers were spry
but now they droop like roses hung
upsidedown on walls by string
windowpanes
on the door smudge and reflect
vines of yellow christmas lights
sheplers shirts roosters and underwear
gather on the floor, are flipped and mixed
by the chef in the dining hall and
finally thrown over rice in a foggy steam
the blinds
snap and get caught by the door
when their strings are snagged
by the sheets rattled off the end of the bed
fingerpaints lustily fall together
in the chilled kiwi and yogurt dawn
breathing and sighing in each others ears
and mixing primaries into purples
bluejeans
lie in a heap in front of the closet
after she pushes them down over her ankles
her arms stretch up in a fleshy rhythm
and heart beats while this shirts swapped for that one
or the grey glove dress with long sleeves
he sneezes and she asks, 'should i wear some makeup?'
to which he shrugs and smiles and replies,
'if youd like !' --then sleeps in empty fullness
77
landscape 1
the party sleepwalked
on the decks of the california blue,
sailing waves of tremolo steel westward
jenny shuffled the books in the corner
and he made the bed
few birds whistled from their dry hearts
with robert filliou, blinking words
in an unremembered halfdream
the rosined ceiling fan held center
flapping through an obscured first quarter
her feet staccatoed with grace to the kitchen
and fingers plucked through upturned
cherry tomatoes like harps notes
peaches laid wet and overripe in the drumvase
while he danced to the silent music of ocean contour
the houseboat hulaed in the pearly dawn
an 'elepaios song danced over a rhythmic dream
todays love bulged up through the horizon
78
landscape 2
under oaks are the hot chocolate tents
and carousels with camels and dragons
jack stands in line
and heaters glow and swell like suns
bundled with green mitten fusion
mechanical caterpillars clank
round the track over false snows
and she stops to inspect the ornaments
on rows of elementary evergreens,
each a little voice rising in practiced song
projecting carols to their mothers and fathers
footsteps creak up the ramp and through the gardens
green blue and red light collect in
the gravity of moss and leaf
forming galaxies of swans, trains and snowmen
a few drops of chocolate fall on the burgundy of a plaid scarf
ballerinas spin in baby blue to the chilled nutcracker
she pulls firm on his hand and steps toward the frozen pond
79
landscape 3
'ha !' and
the cannon explodes on the back sidewalk
as jacob lights a cigar
the smoke and candle sparklers sift
through the leaves like sand in an hourglass
fire puffs from boys hands at each other
and fuzzy lights fall smothered to the ground
fizz goes the champagne
and four feet scuttle on the hardwood
masked above by the windows curtains
jennys eyes whisper, 'are they kissen ?'
the words fall like cut blades of grass down the staircase
dolls in the sideroom ski cocaine
with fourth grade poetry and
get lost in attic conversation
meatballs fall on the tiles and organize
into billie jean bose choreography
scotts foot steps on the pedal and the faucet runs
oversized smirnoff pours its final drops down the levee
cigarette butts float on the smell of gunpowder
jenny slinks powered in his old long since kiss
80
landscape 4
after he passed out over the lakefront
and woke up confused on a parched sofa
jenny waved and danced with a telephone in the street
the sidewalk cracked like the next weeks tepid morning earthquake
and creaking leather tipped an empty beer
his car sweated after a neorealists brunch
and crunched heavy brown clipped st augustine
inside the columns the volunteer ladies asked, 'where are you from?'
and only confused
rembrant shone in snakes on the wall
upstairs was sad with washed up childrens triangle houses
jack sat and watched her at the paintings
with hungover jelly legs
monet and dogs lined the pews and prayed
the elevator confessed and went down in a timed kiss
'rin g g !' and she threw the hardened bits left from the sandwich
at a congregation of floating birds
august heat sank the branches toward the mud
while the ducks turned away
jack smelled her pink brassiere
tears sweated and stumbled off jennys nose
little walter nodded and blew blue through his harp
81
lets pull these strings
across the room real quick
grab those tacks from over there
and turn out the lights
here you go to that corner
yeah dont pin it too high
and dont pull it so tight
its gotta hang a little i promise
and did you get the candles?
i can find the candles
and i have matches,
naked lady matches,
with a fisherman and
a pink bikini lady
i think just these three strings
really are probably enough
but what do you think?
and open the window a little
you know how in houses
if you let in a little beam by itself
you can see all the dust
just flipping and floating by
or maybe we can see it
with a flashlight?
but really on this matchbook
theres this guy with a beard
and a pipe and a pole
and the pink bikini sits
by his can of worms
and the lady shes just in the water
and covering herself up
and he just puffs and lusts
and sets his lure saying,
'i can wait ! i can wait !'
then when it rains outside
and after the seedy motel
lets just be quiet
and turn the recordplayer low
make sure the clothespins stay
cause when we turn the lights out
its just my ears thatll know
right where you are
41
touch your
wet kitten
nose to mine
and rest
on my chest
or in the seats
of my car
as i drive
you must be
drowsy as
the dips ive
watched in
the powerlines
going
up and down
blinking and
fading like
true black
heavy lids
in front of
a third quarter moon
with clouds slinking
in fingerpainted strokes
just below
the treeline
touch with
a little kiss
and then collapse
you asleep has me
splendid silent
knowing i am
so artfully
suspended
in the living
incommunicable
dew of your
dreaming
42
heres a cigarette my pack is yours
im only stealing away for a moment
as fred astaire is calling with
percussive choreography
ill always grab you a glass of water
smooth as all his casual bows
cept theres no tapping from my shoes
its only my joints creaking
my mom nailed it: in utero
and said 'love is a musical'
and 'the less that we possess the less desired'
so a blind mans singing daisy dreams
coast cool like blanketed blue seas
after the promise of a red night falling
43
romeo and juliet had a comfortable love
and perused separate libraries
never with themselves in mind
as what was hers was his
as what was his was hers
she flew on down as a naive ladybug
and crawled across his arm as if
her hand was squeezing his so tight
that he could never leave
moving pictures and her life
were picnicing songs in a generous reality
when she pulled the sandwiches
out of the wicker basket
and placed them atop
the bluegreen seas of
sweaty daisy sheets
it was as if theyd collapsed timeless
sharing childrens warmth and lovefool pictures
in a nest on the rained in sofa
they were both fools for pedal steel
and the lords plausible truisms
meshing together in that idle cocoon
through whisper-sung words
traded wet between earlobes:
'to everything
there is a season
and a time for every purpose
under heaven'
pools of blinking eyes fixed on the tube
while storms still twisted outside and she turned
'now is the time to be born sir romeo'
and his smile bounded on back to her
with the grace and wisdom
of a kite flying boy when he said
with complete release 'and now too's
a time to die dearest juliet'
44
'nu-uh' burst
blonde maggie
in the cozy coupe
'thats not what kissin is'
a plastic wheel
swiveled
in the gravel
crumpling like
the paper of a
trashed idea
'its like this'
and she clumsy
bowed her head
planting with weight
one on her
teddys cold
button nose
he, then, convinced
galloped from stone
to stepping stone
with the brevity
of my wild horse fingers
treading soft
across your palm
45
we are broadchested men in womens bodies
making a huffed return after football on the hill
we snuffed coke in the bathrooms
and happily drank ourselves to sleep
we bear three gifts (1) muted television
(2) hipbones for your fingertipping pleasure
and (3) green green warm tomorrow
now that weve avoided the firepit
on our patterns into an ill placed endzone
now that weve gathered a days worth
of various backwoods mississippi accoutrements:
(1) walking stick approximately three feet in length
(2) drenched boxer shorts crusted quietly
in red sediment and (3) wreckless blasphemy
now that weve climbed the flimsy trees
and jumped carelessly into the unnatural
pond dug beside the deerstand weve,
yes you can count them, three (3) questions:
(1) what was the score again?
(2) where do you keep your sugar? and
(3) when oh when do go back again?
we hope our inquiry is met with focus
and due concern as our faces have begun
to drag under the weight of the women
of the joes of the lies and of the desire
and we remember that summer heat
quelled by the icy saccharine embrace
of a dive into a quick pool of lemonade
46
blue as the bruise on your leg
was the sky when the power died
and sure enough
you ended up in the pool
under the peering stars
a blue girl with a blue love
or blue like when
louisiannes air sends her two legs
around the sun and squeezes into dusk
pinching out the other wavelengths
so much blue like the light
from an aquarium
lulls me with a smile
and sticks its tongue out at me
you know like the ones you get
when youre cooling down in midsummer
kissing a halfdreamt azure popsicle
47
my father stretched the hammock
between trees in the yard
that was meant as an investment
but has turned into a hybrid garden
so few bucks got him that bed
to string for his only
but still more than he paid
for the seeds of those trees
he would take us to the zoo
and hold us on his shoulders
while he pillaged the elephant exhibits
for exotic trunks to set in the soil
of his domesticated eden
but even a few more bucks
left his hand for the leathery fist
of a mexican beach busker
and his extended finger found his bride
as quick as i could find your keys
when the nylon strings sang out
a full song for her in stale salty harmony
the sea ebbed and flowed
and my mother smiled
cause the songs like the sea
saw the sways 'neath her canopy
of sleepy lovers vacationing
in the shade of their own backyard
48
sometimes
when you jump
from the roof
of the playhouse
you land on
not so friendly
cypress knees
and the love
of my life
walked into
coach at the
mall lookin
for a bag
while i sat
thinking
underwater
on a bench
if you turn
your head
real fast,
we figured,
its such a
wah-wahed
vibrato
oh how we
all interact
john cage,
i do my best
thinking when
my ears are
bubbling:
spheres escaping
like when she
decided there was
no bag for her
today and turned
and left
49
skipping pebbles off ponds
or your second floor windows
trying to wake you up
because the traffic was so bad
and i could always call in sick
fifteen missed calls and ray charles
or booker t and the mgs
when id drive down highland
at six am snaking through
foggy foreign hills and always sleepy
from the same porch too where id sit
with reeve and smoke cigarettes
or where we rolled and learned
ben folds songs round
a vaporub campfire and then
even practiced yoga on the lawn
beside the warped and molding
shelves we stole from
the garbage across the street
like four legs twisted together
cept ones a fog and ones just morning
and ones a pebble and ones asleep;
memories are divinely complex
as if all the corners of the room
were shouting different bits out at you
i sat on the porch with aurora (alone)
and the shelves dipped further with the dew
when you finally noticed
your phone had been ringing
i was no longer a noble abandoned idea
waiting for cleanup and restoration
i was a spark of experience
beginning with a speck what now
is probably a priceless pearl
or just a slick remembering pebble
50
jack daniels its not fair
that i grow old and sink
and you age only to gather
barky barrel flavor
jack daniels its not fair
that you can wear black
and hang in shadows
while i soak in too much heat
garnering hallucinations
jack daniels its not fair
that you give away your faces
like the widening ripples
reeling from a raindrop
especially now that
i am so centered and
i promise so much better
jack daniels its not fair
youre never bitter and you sure
as hell dont make me sick
id pour you over my wounds
or just take sips of warmth
when a sharp north wind blows
jack daniels its not fair
just cause i walk and vibrate
i hear your tongues and giggles
repeated and repeated
til the bubbles graze my eyelashes
and im drowned beneath
the browning waves of
too much hope and
not enough time
51
a vase and a bottle of white wine
stood in the center of the dining room table
as two nurturing obelisks of stickysoft contour
the vase held just tulips and the wine
boasted curves of a confident ms taylor
but thats not nearly where we were just yet
and in fact the vase was alive in her closet
and knew i was dozing away in her bed
slits of light fell as draperies down her
sides and her thighs as she balanced
on one foot with a cloudy chin in the air
or the wine was the bud of her bottom
when it never quite rained enough and
i lifted it quickly to the bathroom countertop
pushing her shoulders through the dark
against the cool glance of the mirror
and sending plastic bottles and toothbrushes
bouncing through the sink to scatter
in the secrets and shadows of unlit corners
and with the vase i escaped again too
on our first sunglassed and chilly vacation
peeling back the petals of the tulip
atop the porcelain platform of a toilet seat
there was never quite enough room and
the doors we couldnt figure how to lock
but it only fused us ever closer as we
struggled together to rise and stand open
and then the vase and the bottle we swept away
when we figured it was time to claim the table
you were then my little lying monument and i
enraptured by the sticky sweetness that
brings to the flowers each and every bee
kissing and praying to remember that form
i could so easily with the same two hands
recreate with soggy earth and timid fingers
your side and everything from heel to head
as from a dream but as real today as it was when
id first laid staring and spent after twisting
watching you dance with the light through
the blinds picking out some clean clothes
52
girl in a green velvet dress
i seen you in houston
looking like the first one
(the last time i was
ever comfortable)
and carrying the bag of the second
(where i was never
full on present)
i also saw you at jacks in the city
and was good and plastered
or maybe i was imagining things
i tapped your shoulder
i mean otherwise weve never spoken
but theres lines and lines
(of coke?) and verse
ive strummed along to hopelessly
with something of you clearly in mind
(something of a lot of things)
someone drank too much
and puked in front of where we sat
after my sister and i played
pointless hungover drinking games
(it was really no use
i just sorta felt sick)
the venue staff covered
it with towels and held conversation
over the mop cause after all
this is day to day
this is nightlife(?) really?
i watched you walk with the skinny boy
right out the door and i wanted
to go and smoke a cigarette with you
or maybe i just like watching
people leave
or girls in my brains at least
(i drink too much) i want to tell you
skinny boys are no good
the strokes are done anyway
and wouldnt you rather the velvets?
(the second surely knows
and i hope im in that wedding)
cmon, im really a good boy
i promise
just imagine how surprised i was!
i even sat mixing up hank williams
and trying to write you another song
after i saw you at the store
trying on that dress
(that you never bought)
i couldnt finish it either
there was no magic and it would
never do you justice but
just imagine how surprised i was
after wed parked the car
neath some oak and round
the corner from the prostitutes
we walked up and there you were
fair as a jobim song
and lilting
i dream and dream and
after nights of drinking
catch biographies on television
(when i wake up truly parched)
i cant sleep and i cant think but
just like my father drawing the prints
for this house (and blakes apparently)
i can still imagine where i could have lived with the first
(the last time i was ever comfortable)
and where i did live with the second
(where i was never full on present)
or where id hope to live with the third
(an amalgamation of so many
portuguese speaking women)
and last where id fantastically live with you
(girl in a green velvet dress) and guitars
in a barefoot hut that squirms through a flood
in a timeless treed forest with your freckles
and her swings and a coverless joyce's ulysses
(im pretty sure thats where i may be
comfortable again)
53
ashlee simpson (has collapsed)!
fell under the forks and knives
for an unsympathetic nosejob
i dont care how well you can sing
cause fo real i cant either
i could chill you out and steal your money
and even though we painted
over the wood panel walls with blue
theres still old brown shag carpet in my room
i could trick you and wed have some fun
maybe have some green eggs and ham
maybe talk some shit about someone we know
maybe bathe and light candles yea?
but first theres this party tonight
and im inviting you cause i like your old nose
and wish you woulda kept it and cause
girl you just make me feel so dirty
and i sure as hell dont just kinda like it
54
almost a new moon
and the fishes play the garage
all the celebrities are there
(its kinda like desolation row)
but even with supreme court justices
a drunk one eyed jack of diamonds
tries to ash his cigarette in the tray
vibrating on top of the amplifier
troy is a trojan horse drinking budweiser
dead old lady skin wafts off 50s newspapers
kings and queens run out the door to puke
lee shows up and doesnt bring lindsay lohan
though i mean he really should have
cause we got the stripper pole from big boi
and turned it into a firemans escape
she might as well be prancing while we try to play
i mean i dont see her on walls enough
she wouldnt even have to wear anything
and how about natalie portman too
because no one cares its just noisy and fucked
like a barefoot cowshit fence hop for mushrooms
fishes turn it louder cause they dont know anything else
jack of diamonds says to eric clapton
'wheres a red house? whose dorals?'
ashes another cigarette but imagines
a tray hell never miss big as a plate
and a toilet full of shit and clogged
and a policeman suspicious of a noise from the highway
and no one even complaining (i wouldve)
other side of the garage frida sits in a tub and thinks
then paints it
hurts herself and shaves off her eyebrows
and they never grow back
ships and bloodied toes, freedom and fucking
cowskulls, lists, watercolour, washing machines
paris the unattainable celebrity behind bars
and her GORGEOUS married normal sister
fishes in the garage juggling through the circus
puttin a blonde girl in a wheelchair on the mantle
and burning fake logs in the fireplace
all the celebrities are there
rita hayworth gypsied out like rebecca has a tambourine
all the celebrites and their rust men boyfriends
that call me on the telephone
fishes destroyed and no ones dada on ecstacy
its just too much noise you cant focus
john lee hooker is there too
fussing with mustard and onions and chess
over duchamps 'descending' painting
wouldnt you think it nice to take a holepunch to it?
or just get really angry and throw things through it
just make alive art
im telling you lee shoulda brought lindsay lohan
and the staircase coulda been the firemans pole
just anything so you dont hear them
the fishes that is
who are really just pirates on too much rum
waking up full of regret with contact lenses
plastered in red to their eyeballs
ripping covers off books and reading things backwards
while the barge in the river spills oil on the banks
and a roadsign shakes with psychedelia
in horrid underwater america
55
sunrise (sunset)
silhouettes have no insides
cypress cuts the burgundy
crickets march out circles
in the shivering sod
timbers of the dock like
soggy pages turn up
their corners as ears
and listen--teeth chatter--
love swells like a whale
beneath an iceberg
sunset (sunrise)
the worlds finally asleep
half-spheres glued
to the heavy leaves
of an unfound clover
leather on the sofa creaks
nose grazing the wool
winter-bared trees wish
they were tucked under
and three unpressed
green hands, open,
lie patiently near
56
wrapped in plastic
playing soggy newspaper games
with robert e lee and his jacket
at six am a shower snuck in
(cant you hear that wind howl)
and sunrise came early
for leagues of water vapour
pushed straight up
i tied rags round my forehead
to sop up the sweat as i slept
and battled in my brains
with backwards crossword clues
struggling to stay awake
(behind the wheel) everything shifts
and it gets worse before it gets better
especially this summer heat
a young lady used to be my friend
but nows a friend of the jetstream
remembering with passivity
yet resonating completely with
dips in barometric pressure
and biting her tongue til
the competition has exhausted
all the midday moisture
and splurged filling ditches
nearly to the road
low slate clouds skip
over the roofs of suburban homes
when a green gowned lady
goes out for the days news
big squares of orange light
watch from her neighbors windows
turning their feathered necks
like tired owls
then inside the pages are
spread across the dining table
bleeding ink and curling
hoping to maybe be restored
57
glass of water
follow the leader
glass of water
i walk to the dock
and say 'whats that for?'
she has no words
just pulls it around her forehead
glass of water
hear the rain
glass of water
her eyes find parcels
on my person and read them
i have no words
and watch droplets pushed
sideways into the windows
glass of water
breathy purrs
glass of water
a boy juggles tomatoes
and throws the whisky
in the canal
she says 'i feel as if you know
just what im thinking'
glass of water
please dont go
glass of water
'but i had so much planned!'
(and so did i)
ill nod and bow, anything,
ive found so many songs
some even hidden
in the folds of that matted dog hair
glass of water
sod and silt
glass of water
i was asleep sitting
i was awake sitting
wondering why dawn and heat
didnt stir me earlier
or if id dreamt a luminous
trail from the leather to the bathroom
glass of water
morning alone
glass of water
even if everythings clear ill squint
'everything is so clear!'
'why yes blake thats what
everyone is tryin to paint
cept they cant'
drips from the roof cooled
the pavement near the doorway
glass of water
its not fair
glass of water
youve a nice shirt and
a nice headache and
to die for scented flowers
ive decided to center myself, patience,
and sniff packets of seeds
til i figure it out (please dont go)
glass of water
no one else
glass of water
58
dylans still alive
and i have a piano to move
1920s detuned or (interchangable)
permanent markered keys
higher octave c's pitch shifted like
(twinkle toed?) fireman siren overload
i can shout it from peaks! (nonexistent)
and refuse to attend his gigs
lorrain got no peaks got no baby
got nothin but open spaces
just like minnesota (catalonia?)
i know why i like you even though
ive never quite reached the north country
its cause where i live you know
(that car they bumpin wu-tang)
it used to be marsh really and
grandpa tried to homestead
but it was un-live-able
too wet no food mosquitoes
and these were formidable men (women)
from a much older continent
but then dirty southern oil men came
filled it all with dirt
cut canals (that we jump in)
plowed through with a railroad
and coaxed everyone into
driving their cars to walmarts and dmvs
(like a gold rush, free land?)
couldnt we all just have smoked with redskins?
fifty fifty though (rail grind)
and nothings that simple nor profitless
so theres cut canals and cow pastures
fruitful (says nick drake) and
boys who flip their trucks on wpa roads
(somebody needed a job, right?)
or pump diesel into wrong canisters
birthin more co2
but canals and pastures give air a gap
just like lorrain imagined (picturesque)
where you can go with your sister in spring
and get lost looking for clovers
or where you can go with your girl
when shes crying
and forget that youre people
when you shout
dylans still alive
(and its almost not even worth it!)
my prophesy, the empire falls
earth turns tree falls (no sound)
books burn two seconds
melodies again twinkle (little star)
she/he once was a true love
and again divine
59
if
there is
green where
the water from
the gutters drips
onto the pavement
and
if
there is
the flicker
of gods camera
silent on the horizon
and
if
there is a
cool moist air
shuffling through
the oak leaves
like a curious nose
peeking from under
the coat rack
and
if
the dogs eyes
are wet and its
whiskers greying
with a balanced
educated focus
and
if
marsh
mallows
were emptying clouds
and love letters
oatmeal cookies
be sure
the water table
is rising
and humble homes
foundations
cured
60
yes doll
you have to choose
theres at least two kinds of poems
ones that are solid single instances
like raindrops or teardrops
and those that stretch through time
so choose
and dont be too serious
play and dont want
youve got logical umbrellas
to ignore the little kisses if you like
but playing with the dogs
needs lots of time
for staring in their eyes and things
something happens when
theres no ignored chance
you could
if youre not forgetting
lose your bubble and look up
i mean i know theres at least two kinds
could be more?
could be less but
yes doll
you got to choose
61
wade into the water
when the tide is right
just about to waist level
and when the sun
is pinched colorful
by an atmospheric lense
sink some toes
in the silken smelly mud
hiding clawed blue bugs
and raise a chin to
the golden west
behind the bridge
slinks another woman
pear-round as the
sweltering two-oclock day
then shifting with yawns
down to indigo, violet,
nose grazing an ear
as she lays
62
used to have a pool here
used to be a rope
hung with big knots
like the ones they climb in gym
used to fish the bayou
pullin whiskered catfish
from a muddy gumbo
used to split the fences
of the deck with
squishy teeballs
used to call that little box
in the fort the sewer
used to stream a pinwheel
of puddle up my back
after thunderstorms
used to eat pawpaws
oreos and satsumas
used to skim a cotton bottom
across the lysoled coffee table
when no one was looking
used to tell my friends
'you know i never quite
felt like this--its strange
im awash, content'
used to stretch the violin
in the fogged out back of my car
by the concrete lakeshore and
used to hold her hands
cause the algae made
the steps so slippery
her heels could flee
from underneath
but i kinda like falling
what if when troy
jumped in the bogue chitto
he never hit
his mohawk just flapped
his cheeks filled with air
like errant pirate sails
and blissfully he fell
and fell, forever?
63
mailman nextdoor
two stories
astroturf, cocaine
bearskin rug
loft and bar
hardcore music
bounces around
when the refrigerator
is opened
she rode her bike over
and he met her there
dazed or confused
slept to the doors movie
thirtytwo ounces
budweiser, tallboy
teal leather sofa
covered in dust, grime
and when the cupholders
are folded out
theres cockroaches
stuffed animals
shattered glass
burning black grasshoppers
skate the tailgate
of a white f150
burnout rivers
of molten rubber
shoot off like fireworks
brandish motorcycle
crown royal
his friend said
'look at you all worried about women
youve gotta
reevaluate'
railroad tracks
fema trailer
cigarette burns
pepper the bare mattresses
across the floor
but theres an upstairs room
begging for inhabitance
its pink with an old bay window
and suffered renovations
the bathroom rises two feet
in level
and the light of the river
is broken
by the oak leaves
cardboard boxes
dirty magazines
broken doorlock
rattles when approached
with a screwdriver
they slept while
the bear was slain
and skinned
and the snow was
brushed from its
deepening furs;
kissed beneath
the covers while
someone asked
'where are they?'
64
tryin to keep me
in one place?
at the pediatricians office
there were model trains
that ran routes
through the waiting room
and otherwise
they used to skirt across
my little glazed boy eyes
when my breath was short
and duck off into tunnels,
through walls
and out of sight again
tryin to keep me
in one place?
its like they were
holding my shaking hands
with railroad hustlebustle
and you could hear
clear as a midnight whistle
when the wheels were about
to roll back into the room
same thing now,
tie another string on
long as i get to look
on up under there,
thighs (trains) and all,
i aint goin nowhere
65
heaven is in two places
and surrounded by
a chain link fence with barbed wire
and heavy leaden locks
that can sometimes be steps
so knowing this we broke in
when everyone was asleep
and splashed into the pool
loud as barefoot stomps
on a rickety hardwood floor
(which sometimes is loud
and sometimes aint)
in heaven you can
put your bare bottom on the steps
and howl up at the moon
so thats what she did and
in heaven you can
tell all your secrets quick
(even ones from yesterday)
and prod beehives with thirsty fingers
til theyre dripping with honey
so thats what i did
in still suburban mid-night
she rode the waterslide topless
and i grabbed at sideboob
stretching dawn past fourthirty,
engorged and shameless
lurking as an underwater submarine
and you can leave (like us)
just the same way you came
cept with slippery toes and
a body writhing from the viscous
pour of my nose and my tongue
watching out for snags
of twisted metal
then stumbling back to the ground
in rapture, enraptured
66
in my dream
you wore a yellow
baseball cap
golden hair
curling down
and out the sides
like beads
in a doorway
we were outside
the elementary school
hearing the hum
of air conditioners
kicking on
and lying on our backs
in the middle of
the basketball court
watching
st lawrences tears
trying to catch one
falling star
with two sets
of eyes
then you
buried your nose
in the side of
my shoulder and
left a silent kiss
before i could swing
my arms round
the small of your back
and pull you in
the sky sparked
fell and cried
and your own dreams
filtered through
the heat
of my embrace
like visions through
a stringy dreamcatcher
and love sat finally
on the rings of saturn
as our bellies
pressed together
67
wanna go horseback ridin?
my grandma has a floppy southern belle hat
and uncle a white picket fence lined course
the stables smell like the shit
that makes the trees grow
only cause it probably is and
how come youre so blonde?
i seen a picture of lindsay lohan yesterday
and i was so stoned and
she was with her friend and her mother
and sometimes i think about
james brown and 'try me' and 'think'
and marriot and she has a raspy voice
(be talkin all that raspy shit)
i could write the songs
and she could sang em
or wanna birthday party?
those are loud and everyone wants the camera
(especially lindsay lohans friends)
when one little girl walks wet haired
in a bathing suit on the ledge round the picnic table
another lords over friends and a birthday cake
with twelve candles and a daddy camcorder
(wet hair too and she) so blonde?
but horseback riding is quiet
you just hear the crickets and trots
everyones so sedate when theyre sitten on those muscles
must be some kinda fear thing
(or something patient)
and aint that nice cause
cant you tell the world is just all noise (like dis)
with no focus all dada words on words
on words on words on words
68
baobab,
little aretha
and you can
bang it out
on the toy piano
a halfway
rainbow
xylophone
ya momma
got you
felt hammering
keys
try a little
tender jive
darlins
pourin milk
for the kittens
percussive
on the elevated
hardwood
sunlit summer
showers
vein the window
condensation
sing girl
youre learnin
and your mother
tells me so
69
climb the steps
in singsong
if you can dance
i want to fuck you
because
you have rhythm
and thats good
for making babies
or i dont know
at least for fucking
my girl lives
like i talk
except better
when i am
thinking about 'bruh'
and fidgeting
she is jumping
on my lap
and saying
'COME ON'
70
sink in muddy hopscotch
loving you is like
a mississippi river bar band
on the busted
neon sign highway
watch how the river
splits the continent
winding like your dance
on the stage
forcing new bends
to hard crunk groove
and sweating
ashy alcohol
rollicking into
tambourine madness
gets doll
all rhythm and grinding
theres a pause
and then the rave up
screetching into
underwater volcano skronk
then the boogie
rises as fissured steam
pushing wet up
through your toes
its a soft
and saucy
humid soiree
drunk on lust
and fiery loving
in onehundred degree heat
bubbling a blues
right down from memphis,
alive and living
until passing out
71
with music in my head
i was snapping syncopated
bossa nova rhythm,
rusty springing in hops over
ones and twos
and studying the family (houseboat) photographs
on the refrigerator
then the dog was there
climbing up my leg
and pouting drowsy moon eyes
so i asked her questions,
'where is she? huh?
its not quite the same is it'
then someone else snapped and said,
'she likes me more than you!'
and then outside for a cigarette
before, when the dog followed me home
it was like dolphins with the houseboat
i was walking in the street and quiet
and he would disappear
in this houses bushes and round the fence
til i was convinced he was gone
then emerge stealthy again
im used to a juggling dogwalk
cause then she gets to pass (aah! like a samba)
but also return with new loving perspective
so she followed two new loves to the oak swing and
left me to ponder steel guitar and salty hula
back down on the driveway, recharging
stargazing per usual:
no more perseids (teaching patience)
but orion peeking from inevitable winter
with time suspended ill remember
how cold it was when we went to the parks
and photographs and carvings and
tree shadows over our imprinted initials
back inside as i had known
we were better together
shed sniffed new love with wet nose and paws (pause)
and now we both were tired
so i laid near her water bowl
in a nest of orange dog hair,
let her nap on my thighs
and swayed and sighed so simply happy
72
wrapped up
in the steaming
blue striped sheets
curled jenny awake
waiting in line
for the eclipse
dozed did
the green shirt boy
with a nose full of hair
sniffing and itching
just cause jenny
wanted a kiss
the hours
were counted
by pencil and pen
in endless notebooks
absolutely and
completely
just before
the sun arose
she turned and
gave him a nudge
those who
have wanted
and waited
are those
who reap rewards
terse as a halfhid moons
creamy skin
bare and swaying
finally in bed
73
just come sleep over really
i found the song you should hear
are you portuguese yet?
are there schools there where you can volunteer?
can we dance in the kitchen?
i found the song you should hear
put some clothes on and come over
we could slow dance and fuck and
watch television and learn to cook and
grow some baobabs and take a nap and
hustle and juggle and fumble and everything
just come sleep over really
it goes like--'baby
baby
i love you'
74
'up the stairs, marianne!'
she peeks from the window down
to parisian hustle bustle
and throws her coat to the ground
from the roof the sky stretches
under the bridge and the smell of tomatoes
sinks over cobblestone roads;
then the wind blows
to buckets of beaded periwinkle
dodging the heels of curious birds
'see, now my eyes dont dart !' blurs
her finally, out of focus
here too she can bury her face in the sand
just its quasars flickering in atmosphere
75
speakers and children
counted down from '10,
9, 8--' and the sun sank
with bugs past the bubble horizon
a set of shoed toes
lingered on the dustdry turf
hung from the balloons basket
dodging everyones
hotair photographs
huffed jenny, 'which is your favorite?'
and he spun right around in a daze
'the one with the diagonals !'
their pace stretched taut
as the lines tethering airships wanting rise
'--2, 1, burn !' as he paused
their retreat breathing hot on her cheeks
and in a puff a balloonmans toes
lifted from the ground and laughed
as the rest of the sun dove
76
outside
the tree is planting seeds
on the softest idea
purple flowers like helicopters
twist like springs down in drips
the little fan oscillates
and makes the sound of a lawnmower
pushed slow across the sod
tape doesnt
hold the rugs in place and
vinyl records on the wall lose tack
three days ago sunflowers were spry
but now they droop like roses hung
upsidedown on walls by string
windowpanes
on the door smudge and reflect
vines of yellow christmas lights
sheplers shirts roosters and underwear
gather on the floor, are flipped and mixed
by the chef in the dining hall and
finally thrown over rice in a foggy steam
the blinds
snap and get caught by the door
when their strings are snagged
by the sheets rattled off the end of the bed
fingerpaints lustily fall together
in the chilled kiwi and yogurt dawn
breathing and sighing in each others ears
and mixing primaries into purples
bluejeans
lie in a heap in front of the closet
after she pushes them down over her ankles
her arms stretch up in a fleshy rhythm
and heart beats while this shirts swapped for that one
or the grey glove dress with long sleeves
he sneezes and she asks, 'should i wear some makeup?'
to which he shrugs and smiles and replies,
'if youd like !' --then sleeps in empty fullness
77
landscape 1
the party sleepwalked
on the decks of the california blue,
sailing waves of tremolo steel westward
jenny shuffled the books in the corner
and he made the bed
few birds whistled from their dry hearts
with robert filliou, blinking words
in an unremembered halfdream
the rosined ceiling fan held center
flapping through an obscured first quarter
her feet staccatoed with grace to the kitchen
and fingers plucked through upturned
cherry tomatoes like harps notes
peaches laid wet and overripe in the drumvase
while he danced to the silent music of ocean contour
the houseboat hulaed in the pearly dawn
an 'elepaios song danced over a rhythmic dream
todays love bulged up through the horizon
78
landscape 2
under oaks are the hot chocolate tents
and carousels with camels and dragons
jack stands in line
and heaters glow and swell like suns
bundled with green mitten fusion
mechanical caterpillars clank
round the track over false snows
and she stops to inspect the ornaments
on rows of elementary evergreens,
each a little voice rising in practiced song
projecting carols to their mothers and fathers
footsteps creak up the ramp and through the gardens
green blue and red light collect in
the gravity of moss and leaf
forming galaxies of swans, trains and snowmen
a few drops of chocolate fall on the burgundy of a plaid scarf
ballerinas spin in baby blue to the chilled nutcracker
she pulls firm on his hand and steps toward the frozen pond
79
landscape 3
'ha !' and
the cannon explodes on the back sidewalk
as jacob lights a cigar
the smoke and candle sparklers sift
through the leaves like sand in an hourglass
fire puffs from boys hands at each other
and fuzzy lights fall smothered to the ground
fizz goes the champagne
and four feet scuttle on the hardwood
masked above by the windows curtains
jennys eyes whisper, 'are they kissen ?'
the words fall like cut blades of grass down the staircase
dolls in the sideroom ski cocaine
with fourth grade poetry and
get lost in attic conversation
meatballs fall on the tiles and organize
into billie jean bose choreography
scotts foot steps on the pedal and the faucet runs
oversized smirnoff pours its final drops down the levee
cigarette butts float on the smell of gunpowder
jenny slinks powered in his old long since kiss
80
landscape 4
after he passed out over the lakefront
and woke up confused on a parched sofa
jenny waved and danced with a telephone in the street
the sidewalk cracked like the next weeks tepid morning earthquake
and creaking leather tipped an empty beer
his car sweated after a neorealists brunch
and crunched heavy brown clipped st augustine
inside the columns the volunteer ladies asked, 'where are you from?'
and only confused
rembrant shone in snakes on the wall
upstairs was sad with washed up childrens triangle houses
jack sat and watched her at the paintings
with hungover jelly legs
monet and dogs lined the pews and prayed
the elevator confessed and went down in a timed kiss
'rin g g !' and she threw the hardened bits left from the sandwich
at a congregation of floating birds
august heat sank the branches toward the mud
while the ducks turned away
jack smelled her pink brassiere
tears sweated and stumbled off jennys nose
little walter nodded and blew blue through his harp
81
lets pull these strings
across the room real quick
grab those tacks from over there
and turn out the lights
here you go to that corner
yeah dont pin it too high
and dont pull it so tight
its gotta hang a little i promise
and did you get the candles?
i can find the candles
and i have matches,
naked lady matches,
with a fisherman and
a pink bikini lady
i think just these three strings
really are probably enough
but what do you think?
and open the window a little
you know how in houses
if you let in a little beam by itself
you can see all the dust
just flipping and floating by
or maybe we can see it
with a flashlight?
but really on this matchbook
theres this guy with a beard
and a pipe and a pole
and the pink bikini sits
by his can of worms
and the lady shes just in the water
and covering herself up
and he just puffs and lusts
and sets his lure saying,
'i can wait ! i can wait !'
then when it rains outside
and after the seedy motel
lets just be quiet
and turn the recordplayer low
make sure the clothespins stay
cause when we turn the lights out
its just my ears thatll know
right where you are