Friday, November 2, 2012
Locksmith
Carrying the lot of keys, unlocking all, to find metal hearts.
Jagged openings,cool forgiveness and a hundred jingling chances.
The power in metal swinging from my hips, like a robot god,
all the machines speaking their roulette codes. My tender hands
keep the answers to those sweet hungry mouths. We pair up and part.
We know each other like couples skipping through a park. I am finding
my way, the clearance to move larger trapped things. Your bear
of a lock, his teeth poised toward me, can be moved, can be made
to taste the honey, I hold in my hands.
Thursday, June 14, 2012
Becoming Dumb
A spirit in the ground moves me,
seduces me to look.
No time to ripen my head.
No sleep weighs this thought.
Why a microscopic angel, I think,
in my revolutionary heart.
As a necessary prevention
against sadness, I reclaim
my ignorance.
Tuesday, April 3, 2012
Why I Hate You
Your delusionalism is the topper.
Your goals for absolution vomitable.
You have that quality, that poison floating
in the kool-aid prickle like dream boats.
You understand that some form of a cross
gets people wound up. Clapping monkeys.
You and your jamboree.
Your imaginary gods are undoubtable.
Been trying to shake that dream.
You were catching up to me.
When women commit to you
you pull up your cape and soar.
When women kill for you
you are a god.
When I try to forget you,
you are a monster.
Friday, February 24, 2012
Making a Bed
Remember the mix tapes and the letters
down those deep cold hallways, education
glistening under our feet like stuck stones,
the bang of the lockers like stupid hearts,
the warmth of your leather seats after the bell.
Your parents were gone when we lay down
to see what it was like to make a bed.
down those deep cold hallways, education
glistening under our feet like stuck stones,
the bang of the lockers like stupid hearts,
the warmth of your leather seats after the bell.
Your parents were gone when we lay down
to see what it was like to make a bed.
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
Coaxed
My night house isn't my day house.
Shadows corner me
in their darkened daze, charge me
like light never does.
My stairway, pit to doom
plants straining their crooked limbs
in embraces lined with thorns.
Carved names of those who used to
hover around here, sad as me, death
massaging their shoulders, weight
exercising its lofty smile.
Those names are in my heartstone.
What lingers must be coaxed
and bribed with sweet bread
and jugs of wine.
Shadows corner me
in their darkened daze, charge me
like light never does.
My stairway, pit to doom
plants straining their crooked limbs
in embraces lined with thorns.
Carved names of those who used to
hover around here, sad as me, death
massaging their shoulders, weight
exercising its lofty smile.
Those names are in my heartstone.
What lingers must be coaxed
and bribed with sweet bread
and jugs of wine.
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