More Sudden Awkwardness of Love

my head got hit by lightning
my cock shot straight out / glowed
my teeth got chattered
all at once
because you said: you knowed

I looked at you intently
and asked you what you meant
you looked at me, most quizzically
and said
"um
your head is on fire,
or something?"

I wanted to impress you
and seem like Not A Jerk
so I ran and answered a Want Job ad
at Terrific Place To Work

I told them "money," and they said
"time,"
Which seemed quite 'eye to eye'!
Then they said: "Look: before you start,
Your head is on fire. You'll
have to do something about that."

I asked, "Won't that be
covered under benefits?" They said
"Pre-existing condition."
They never said anything about
the other thing. (I was wearing
very dense, heavy

pants)

self-censorship fail

I bit the inside of my cheek
(I meant to bite my tongue)
the words that came out
were worse than what
I bit my tongue (or
tried, and missed)
to cut

attractive, with qualifiers

stinky hippie chicks with kinky hair
and skinny lips and endless limbs stained brown
by endless suns baked in,

I find that attractive, I guess. Under certain conditions.
From a distance, downwind for instance, or through
the window of a car as I'm driving by, and she's
on the other side, not getting in. I find that
pretty attractive.

Not that I have any issues with her! doing
her own funky thing
her own funky way,
but really, you know.

Patchouli is a problem,
not a solution.

further to fall

Look: there's a problem with the world
I've seen, and I don't know if anyone else
has noticed. People

learn the worst lessons they can. They do
this deliberately, as a deliberate choice.
Take every bad lesson to heart, so that
they "can't be hurt that way again."
They pick up as many grudges
as they can
carry. Anything good - taught,
learned, given, received - is allowed
to be outweighed, because the bad lesson
is a more important lesson to learn, than
the good one. The bad lesson - protects you?
Once you learn that bad lesson, you don't
have to worry. No more good can get in, and

only the good can hurt you.

Look, I'm not giving anyone here
on earth advice. At least, if I have,
then I apologize it was probably bad. People
deal with things differently. That doesn't mean
it's wrong. I deal with things one way, you
deal with things your way. I deal with things
poorly.

That's not your fault or your problem. I can take
it, it's mine. Personally, honestly, I'd rather be hurt
again.

I

can

take it.

At least once more,

I can.

So far,

that's all I need to be sure of.

a cat to dangle

we all have a cat to dangle
over the heads of our foes
to threaten them with
all the consequence
(metaphorically, I suppose)

beat the rush

we beat the rush
of butterflies and
honey, that initial
head over
-flows
over heels
is over

yeah,
we lived through that
okay

we made it out, only
slightly the worse
for the wear

and we lived a few years on
cheap wine and sarcasm
ran out of sarcasm, about
the time that last bottle
ran dry

and we found we couldn't afford
any more

we knew we had reached
our whatever it was

and you knew how much I loved you,
then

you knew that it wasn't much.

but you were wrong,

again.

like you knew even then
like you still know, now

and now it's time to give up
on something nearer and dearer
to us

than every bad habit we've ever
crushed

yes, it's time to give up on giving
up.

candy's got fuzz

ooo m'
candy's got fuzz
must a fell on the ground
or been sticking around
in m' pocket too long
but I'm a suck on
suck on suck
on it anyhow
suck on it any
how suck on it
anyhow

candy's got fuzz
coulda been a little
while now, wrapper
came off, I'm a
suck on it anyhow
sure enough sweet
as it is, I'm a
look both ways
before a treat
and I pop it right
in my mouth

and suck on
it anyhow
a suck on
it anyhow
candy's got fuzz
I'm a suck on
it anyhow

candy's got fuzz
I'm a suck on
it anyhow
candy's got fuzz,
and I pop it
right
in my mouth

"dumb me down"

and words you say, don't
dare explain - I know what's
meant, I know what means
what
lies between,
and what's implied
- I've looked it up
right in your eyes - don't
tell me what, I know what's right
your love makes sense, or
sense enough. I don't need
you to spell it out. I've looked
it up - straight from
your mouth

brand, shining new.

The brand on my heart is brand shining new
you seared your true name in a sigil, it's sealed
on the fibre and twitch of this muscle for love
that pulses my blood in your name, hot and real

my handprint on you, is brand-spanking new
as if to say ownership, chattel and claim!
it glows rosy bright, softens smartly to white
still it stands out invisible, spelling my name

Your claim on me is mine.

My mark on you is yours.

- a gift given freely, from each unto each
and you smile and blush, my eyes lower and grin,
each tentatively, with so much
to give in

domestic arrangements

I get the butter in the jam
all the time. no one else even
uses the jam! that jam is mine.
I don't get jam on the butter.
I'm careful and I never slip:
butter first, jam after, and
what harm does a little butter
do in the jam jar? I go through
that jam so fast - a little creamy
smear from a well-buttered knife,
dipping in for some jam - well,
those two go so well together!
They can socialize a bit, in the
jar. Where's the harm? Hello,
jam, so robust and sweet. Meet
your future husband: butter.

See how well they get along!

requiem or bust

I'll send a prayer along after:
for all of the good it'll do you,
that's why! I'll send a prayer, oh
humor me, listen - where you've gone,
by now, you know better than I. Is
there laughter? Singing? Nothing?
Maybe nothing. Maybe you know
no better - maybe nothing
was the last thing you learned.
A lesson through and through;
learned at once and completely
- the answer to everything,
at last.

Or maybe we both guessed double-wrong:
is there burning? Flesh, torn and boiled
in lakes of fire, and God over all,
unsatisfied? Wanting to see more?

I don't believe that. And you
didn't either.

Well I'll be joining you soon
enough, then.

amen.

nothing to lose

well I guess my respect
was "nothing to lose"
as for getting it back
it's a bit late for that

you've got nothing to offer
in heaven or earth
what you do have is bad
what you lack's even worse

I need you for nothing
for what - "make me think?"
I can do that myself
far too much for my health

I don't care what you've lost
or what you've done so far
or what you're doing next
or what your questions are

find your answers yourself
you invent what you see
I don't care what you think
or believe about me

so believe me or not
I am walking on air
since I finally gave up

on what -

you?

I don't care.

seven up

seven flights of stairs
below me lives the world
on level ground
I sit here looking out
my window, down to where
they rush around
it's not so high they look
like ants, they're more like
dolls, of doll-house size
I walk down every morning,
then I walk back up
for exercise

that girl was feckless

the girl who sat by me on the train
was feckless, slight of build, and
about something-three. Twenty-three,
or thirty-three.

I don't know how I could tell
she was feckless. She said
nothing, the whole trip absorbed

listening to music, presumably her
music (though it could have been radio?),
through two snaking white wires that ended

in buzzing white berries, stuck snug
in her feckless ears. There can be
no doubt as to her fecklessness,

though. I am and have always been
a shrewd observer, and I can tell
these things and others - even though

I may not be able to tell how. Very
slight signs key the revelation - none
of them on their own will flash:

"feckless"

- but together, they build it up
conclusively, for me to see. She
was feckless. Her hair, frayed

a bit by dye jobs, the last one
a shockingly mousy tone, her skirt
was a dim purple, as if it too had

been dyed, but with a slightly off
color from the faded original, and
the two purples did not get along.

I assumed it had been bought used,
a thrift shop find. It was a quality
garment, but she seemed too feckless

to be re-dying faded clothes; therefore
someone else had done it. Its purple-
gray was not unpleasant, and it went

well, with everything else she had on
- though it matched with nothing.
I'll spare you the dissection

of the rest of her outfit. Leave it
to say that an impression of feck
-lessness was built up. Her face,

even, intent on the face of the boxy
device her white wires fed into, even
though there was no video screen or

any sort of interest. She didn't look
up from it once. Never turned her head
in my direction as I sat facing forward

like a blind man, in shades. She was
about three rows up in distance, although
there were no rows between us. I sat

in the front of a front-facing section,
and she sat in the middle of one of the
side-facing seat sections, that ran

along the wall. She didn't look up once
from that box, even when I came in (that
was when I saw the front of it, no display

screen) and sat down. She seemed feckless,
even then. The impression was instant
-aneous. Perhaps it was her face, which

had freckles in abundance. "Freckles" is
a bit suggestive of "feckless." Yes, I
think that's it! Ah, the fecklessness of

youth.

forever's another name for it

you and I are forever, and we
have been. It's been that long
already, and it keeps going on
like a dance that ends at midnight,
on a planet that never turns - but
the party stays cool at 11:45,
while the stationary day-side burns

When we tire of the revelry, we slip
out the back. Sure of thought, and of
perfect pure form, we go where we please
in black. One time,

we two immortals walked out in the wars.
While we sighed and we glanced, every side
showed a gaping wound. And we glanced
and we sighed, as the shell fragments flew
and the cracking shots glanced off your skin
and now a whistling bomb falls, a direct hit
on my love for you

we are not moved, but we have to shake and
brush off, scoop the caked black dirt and clumps
of mortal flesh, that rained up and covered us
as we stood, untouched. It is absurd, but neither
of us feels like laughing. "Why did we come here,
dear?" I ask. "You know there's nothing we can do
to stop it."

"I know." You scowl. "I came because there's nothing
we can do to stop it."

I expect I'll live another million years, and still never
figure you out.

as good as inevitable

you put
a finger to your bitten lip
and giggle an apology

for making nature take its course
you've many subtle strategies

that lead down winding ways, all smooth
and slick, with careful slips and steps

to follow as you lead on down

you worked it out

this way is best

persistence of vision

the future used to be for us,
and now it's just for me
my clear eyes know that it's a lie -
once true, now fantasy
I look ahead at what was lost
it hasn't faded yet
it seems like I could just wake up
and step right into it

jump go get

here it comes
Friday
move
last chance
go
jump
prove
work hard
hit
while
can
fuck
that's it
I'm outie
man

most of my ghosts

most of my ghosts aren't dead,
but they haunt nonetheless
I've a theory that any event
with sufficient force can imprint
on its surroundings, and be sensed
by a sensitive soul. Now, psychic,
I most definitely am not! Still,
I see where you passed and left
a hole. Your ghost, a vision (as you
always were) in negative light,
you stand there looking at me -
a look I can never forget, because
your ghost won't let it lie. A look
like the last look you ever gave, like
the last look I'll ever get, before
I die

how many lives left, now?

there's a damn cat
that sounds like a woman having loud sex out there

It's definitely a cat, I looked

it doesn't sound like a cat.
It comes round each night, about
this same time

I don't know what it wants. or what
it thinks I'm about to give it. maybe
the previous occupant used to feed it, or

maybe

in a previous life, it was a woman
who was loud at sex

and it still remembers part

of how that
goes

my right, or?

was it my right, or
your left? Either way,
we both dodged in that
direction, and clonk!
ow
heads!
I can already tell,
we aren't going to be
agreeing on how that
was supposed to have
happened
yet

strength, for fools

strength, for fools
is futile - struggle
always, always look
up too late, see - we
've gone in the wrong
direction! Turn back
in anger, self-defeated
and self-enlightened,
self-possessed, and
self-deceived - each
of us knows best, and
we know: we will try
and try harder, until

until.

I am a fool, which I
've known for some time,
and done nothing about.
I am about the minding
of my business. I will
plan twice as careful,
I am husbanding my
strength, for one last
push against doubt. For
fools, strength is
futile.

But it's all I have,
and I will make it
enough.

grave

I dug my grave
there was nobody in there

I waited around for awhile,
then I left.

I can always come back again later
and check

but just to be safe, I left some flowers

show you progress

I'm a gentleman scientist
readying the world step-by-step
for my incredible discoveries, doing all
my level best to insure that panic
does not ensue

when I break through:
I will say: "Good evening.
How do you do?"

And after a courteous pause,
I'll correct the answerers,

and I will tell them all how

they will all
thenceforward

do.

except evidence

don't believe in anything
except for evidence
Evidence doesn't prove anything
but it used to.

you sent the world away
but the world wants to stay
keep you cradled up inside it,
coming up with the same sane answers
that everyone does. The world wants you
to do the same. You stopped

but the world went on. Without you,
your life stopped as well, but not
in the same place.

You can't see it

Evidence doesn't prove anything
but it can be used to. It can be used
to prove whatever it wants to, and if
you are nice to it, go easy on it,
you can turn it in all different directions
and watch it sparkle

watch it sparkle so, that
you won't believe

in anything but that gleam
and nor should you: soon the
things you wanted most to see
in yourself, in the world around,
in the ones you want most to believe,

everywhere you used to see all you wanted to
see, soon

you'll note the distinct lack
of evidence
backing you up
backing you up, on
your heels, there's a wall
somewhere behind you but you haven't struck
it. You believe there's a wall, but your eyes are
stuck
staring forward, at everything you're backing away
from.

You'll become, you'll become, you'll become, you'll
become what the evidence most strongly suggests.
You can guess, excellently well but why waste your time
on your old talents now? When you've pared it all down
to the basics. Here's how: believe in nothing
except evidence. Evidence doesn't prove a thing,
but it can be used to.

mountain house

we went to your big mountain house
spread out and empty inside, it was only
the roof and the sides were pushed out
that made it big, too big
to hold so tiny a life
which was how you preferred
to live in it: spare,
but with me there, I was
out of place
which was fine by me.
- that was only for the moment,
I was only there to help
only there to help lend a shoulder,
or two, my arms and back -
something,
you said
needed lifting

I was only there to help you
not fit in

"all okey-doke!"

there's
no thing going on,
you've done no wrong
at least, by me!

nor made me
sad, uncomfortable, or
irritated in my soul

with anything you've said,
implied, or left unsaid, or
undenied

you're pretty much
the only one I know
who's clear and free.

shoulders

she shoulders heavy burdens,
words and murmurs, implications,
weighted actions, freighted glances,
she's our servant, our salvation
thankless wonder, struggles under
evermore she's taking on

upon her shoulders, worlds
are settled - with yet more
worlds waiting patient
to climb on.

at the end,

I see us forever,
arm in arm, life in life
and there are consequences implied.
I don't want us to die.

Not early, not an accident. Though
at least we'd go together, I don't want
to end in pain, fear, screaming

and I don't want to be cut short

Of course, I don't want
to end at all
I want long years to savor this
I will not be able to believe what we have found,
not until I've been able to rub my face in it,
in its sweet fragrance and warm sleek press
and damp caress, and cold morning gooseflesh,
and warm growing-into, and learning
each the other, right through, and
through again, for ages and ages,
a long, long time
- and then only then,
will I believe my luck.

All of which means:
natural causes, most likely.
quite harsh, still

"Forever" is a hollow joke,
in lives like these, a world
made to be temporary, made
to end, and
to be over

I'm just going to blurt it out:

at the end,

...

I don't want to go first.

I don't want to think of the branching ways
you could go on from there,
I can't bear
to think of you drawn,
despairing, your life
gone forth from the world,
me cold in the ground, or some dull,
well-earned urn.
With a small plaque on it, that says
something sarcastic - I made you promise
to put on there

you honored,
though you knew I was only kidding
one last misguided attempt to lighten the pall
as I lay with your hand squeezing my withered hand,
with your hand squeezing the last of my blood
instead of my heart

and then you, so full of life, let it drop
and follow soon after,
too soon.

our threads are intertwined, but
I don't want my death to cut yours short,
to be the blade that cuts yours

But almost worse than that picture - me
so selfish, me
so jealous - to picture you waiting
the requisite year, then - your heart lighter,
you pick up and move on...

I don't want that either! What
a hard, cruel, I know - a selfish, selfish
man. And I know my ghost would only want
to follow your every step, just to feel the pain
of not sharing in

to be by your side in pain -
a pain to be preferred to heaven

Darling, please, while we're young
let's agree - you go first

for I know I won't last,
with you gone

I will follow before you can even think
to miss me

less from you

what I need
is not
what you need to give me,
dear,
I can do with less
I'd rather have less
from you
than any amount
from another

less from you
or whatever you can give
balanced by whatever you can't

whatever you can
is fine by me
give freely, give free,
less from you
is fine by me

to eat my words

I'm always prepared to eat my words
- that's one of my favorite dishes.
If I'm wrong, pass the fork!
they're so tender and choice, well -
what could be more delicious?

calculation

does calculation
mean it less? you
want so much, to say
it right - the best
you can. It means
too much

some times the words just
tumble, rush, and fall
assembled perfectly
you catch your breath, and
think "wowee! Just what I meant,"

but other times, it's hard and takes
up all your mind in effort, sweat
and bad mistakes just barely missed
by effort you put into it - by artifice,
and measured weight, and tone, with care,
you calculate

perils of eating out

I went out to get vietnamese and slipped
ended up at the cambodian place
well my instruments must have been misaligned
they had to capture me to save face

it caused an international incident
the State Department claimed they didn't know
but that didn't stop them from asking,
"hey man - bring us back some amok, to go"

a full retraction

I was
unelectrocuted,
when you pulled the plug
then you cut me down
from where you had me strung up
and unstrangled my neck, where
the reddened rope burned

You pulled the bullets out by their holes,
then you turned me over
and over, you looked for all signs
- for poison, you pumped antidote,
then opened my mind,
turning squishy little dials, flipping switches
OFF / ON
I'm perfectly alive, you say
but

something's still gone

big bites

I take
great big bites of food
then I chew, then
I chew, then
I chew

First,

First,

fall

and question then:
acceleration, cross
wind current, friction
spend itself against
your skin rubbed raw
by air

descend

to one straight line
you were born for:
to die

but first,

hit this one high

certain words

certain words
that I first heard
from you, it's like
you invented them

like "earbuds"
god, I love that word!
it's cute as all.
I picture a duck!

somehow, with ears
he wears those things
to hear his tunes
throughout his day

how do they sound?
what do ducks like?
I think: like you
duck tunes sound
yay

unestranged

you, meet me
and me, you
and I
have to say

"well how
do you do?

what say you
my love

you are mine
I am yours
oh, my love

we forgot that somehow
all the chores
and appointments
we made
of our love
left undone
fallen through
'til we sat
there with nothing
to do

and few words
to be strung

on the line
we hang loose
between us
to communicate through.

Well, you
meet me

and I'll
meet you

and we'll see
who we are,
again

before we're
through

"

transubstantiation

her legs have too much design
and her knees are too far from her hips
but the moment the strap slips down,
on her arm
all is forgiven, her lips, oh her lips
sing a benediction

and I am the blessed
and I'm the beloved, dear brethren
yes

and I am the choir,
she'll preach
call amen!

in response

sing the hymn

hallelujah again

in a congregation of two,
we begin
and she is the celebrant

all rise

and join in

no place like

this is where my life used to be
I drove these roads
blind
straight like a shot
every time, found my way
to where you used
to wait

now,
blinded by street signs
I used to know
I followed your old way home,
'til I couldn't find mine
anymore

because there's no safe
right place
at the end,
anymore
and that's fine

she doesn't live here
any more, and
what are you looking for?

I've never looked for anything. But
now,

I will.

go,

look
- slow,
not a race.

I want to be home.
I've never been home,
it sounds like a wonderful place