Category Archives: Original Poetry
What do you do when your arm’s torn off. Your mother’s fucked or your son’s made to suck your cock? What do you do? Because: this will happen to you, even if you live in America.
Christian, muslim, jew – god is (let us grant it) but not how you mean it. Is perhaps but as an abstract, not a real person, a prime mover, an architect, actor, an interested party; a master of history traversing the linear time-line from zero to eternity. There’s no such god. When I was […]
Is: muted/ the empty sky of evening/ wept until – The stars fray/ derelict shadows lie in ragged heaps/ the I, crystalline, beside me – long, serpentine
Who gets to write the end line in our poem; to lie, at last, suck their wine by the pool when all the chores are done? No-one sees the masterpiece hung but you kneel dutifully to swallow bread. Like a girl or a good boy should.
i’m content to do nothing substantial. it’s better to chew my fingers, use a torn nail as floss than submit to the dross of sharing my day with you. * flies listen to me, are in tune with my vibe; the mood (i’m in) to kill descends suddenly, & shut the fuck up & […]
The white boats are buoyed by the water; the blue sea splayed in sunlight, cloud & sky. My heart beats for these cubic lines, the pentagrammic houses over the shore. The fishermen. Remember the waving light on the quay of early morning; hunger for the gusty rain before dusk, or the flash flood. […]
The old men gaze as a cloud frays across the moon.
Exclusive Eyes The changes in the temperature when they walk into the room, my desires and my memories all hang upon a loom. Exclusive eyes they do not care for me, they see only beauty and it’s me they fail to see. their sepia gaze drawn down from a million nights as the […]
The heart pumped with blood is the origin of thought & the worms between my ears suck it dry, tell it as it is, like a tape recorder would. I hear it & I’m interested & I want to, dig in; get away from, but. We have lost touch. Understand: that: if this […]
I opened my eyes an hour later. The long cabbage tree was waving. The Jasmines flowered along the back wall; nothing had changed. I’m half dreaming; how easy it is to fold, to stare at a mottled sky, fall in the pool, hear nothing but reverie. A key turns the lock & my stomach drops. […]
She calls – to whom, to what – only a dog retorted & a drunk, & was it worth it? The mouse stricken nods & shakes his head.