Photo credit here.
Rubber bounce
Chamois peach
Speckle pillow
Foremilk china, bone
Globe succulence
Yeast dough swell
This is the cheek of the red-haired boy.
I think I have to bite it.
Advertisements
Category Archives: poetry
Juicy
Swamp Lullabye
Photo courtesy of Paul Mannix
I slumber in my swamp sublime
The warm and fetid backwash clime
Undulates in fog and slime
Smothering my senses
Black flies adore my lower lip
Their eggs in glistening clusters slip
From hairy wombs about to rip
Like overripe papayas
A swollen leech calls, “Hush, my dear”
In foreplay nibbling on my ear
Seductively to still my fear
While gorging on my blood
Steadily the quicksand grows
With smacking lips she sucks my toes
One by one A mother knows
How to swathe a baby
Awakening
Image courtesy of (matt) at flickr
Out of a dream like coming to the surface after plummeting to the depths of the black water of slumber. Slowing growing lighter and lighter until consciousness comes like breaking to the surface and back into the light.
Untitled: February, 1987
Photo courtesy of John Liu
I seem to think a lot these days
To cry and pain and pain and bleed
Then joy, bright champagne bubble mirth
Blows golden notes of dandelion seed
Solemnity of captives freed
A mind reduced to motion
All Nighter
- Photo courtesy of Aaron Stidwell
Razor stubble litters his humid morning face
Snowflake flecks invade those black-knight locks
Muddy coffee vapors collide with my perfume
And curdle my awe
His gritty gaze slumbers
Even as it lumbers
To greet me
Demigod,
Can this be you?
Thinking in Pictures
The subway hums me tiredly into the city
At first it refuses
I know to bribe the turnstile for the magic words
OPEN SESAME
The doors grudge open
A fresh bird splat
A drying froth of tubercular sputum
The foamy casing of the spittle bug
All this and more performed in the thick Plexiglas window
By the unknowing artist and his stealthy Zippo
Green as sick and left for dead after a long drunk
Broken glass on a trash-strewn hill
Cries out as rocks must
Murmurating brilliance at the strike of a glancing beam
Spring is too young to cover this nakedness
Clamors for love and validation
Crowd the breath out of every surface
Spray-painted, etched, burned, gouged
Whatever it takes
To starve at our eyes
See me
Love me
Tell me I Am
We present with words
Are we so different?
If the Shoe Fits
If the shoes fits, smell it
You know you will
Do it
Grated Parmesan
Black truffle?
Inhale it
Dismiss the watchmen
Close your eyes
Embrace it
Children, take out your pencils
Draw lines to match
sweaty shoes gin
stinkbugs culantro
loaded diapers oxtail soup
bananas fish sauce
Scotch tape sex (says Barbara)
kids’ dirty undies Parmesan
armpits kimchi
Stop playing dumb
You get it
Admit it
