your down cause you can't take Jesus

Your down, 'cause you can't take Jesus! And most people
can't, but Jesus isn't after most people! He's after you
. Now sit up and pay heed to the call, chile! Your heart
has ears, don't they? That sweet saving grace that makes
repentant sinners of us all! Take ear and hear it, for
the call
only comes but once
and for the rest of your life! Your down
'cause you can't take
Jesus

wash with waves

and the ocean tastes pretty bad
you know, but it always has
it always has.

The water is blood
of salt and silt, and
brackish plankton blooms
and billions of living polyps
drifting,

drinking each others' waste
and shitting each others' food -
it's a closed system
bleeding out at every edge,
and it's clean to me - pure,
and good

I am going to sink in
to the wide, wet strip
where the tide goes out,
waiting patiently

I'll lay sinking in, an encrusted rock
to wash with waves
wash with waves

and I'll sink into sand and remain where I am
and wash with waves
wash with waves

foam scum on green
as the years rush in I will wear away
'til there's nothing left of me
but clean

shit-eating grin

Proud tongue, lie still
behind blank teeth
- while eyes conceal black depths of soul,
convulsion-wracked.
Bite back hard words -
blink back hard plans,
and swallow turds

cries for help

come on
cries for help don't count.

Get real

Please,

how serious do you want to get? Do you think
you can really wade all the way in?

It's a dare
it's a slight, it's a date
it's a bet

some sex

some sex makes love
sit up and beg, and
no two hearts ever sit quite
still, slipping over
each other like arm
and leg, in a
m
o
m
e
n
t,
regained,

that was almost burst
open,
broken,

sprained

bicycle built

leaning on the plywood wall
of your homemade garage,
shiny and new
under webs and dust
with spots of rust now, eating into
a bicycle built for two

well it serves you quite neatly,
apropos, even -
for something so hokey as hell!

No more fitting death knell
could you have devised
if you had tried

and the bow is still on the thing. Fitting
its handlebar bell's trigger
will never be pulled
back with a spring-load resistance,
jingling like an insipid party favor -

ding-a-ling!

"This Much Love"

at home with you - a house of walls
alone with you - beyond recall
as we sit by ourselves, way too close to be touched
we take turns disappearing, take turns turning up
and the plans that we drew to fix everything wrong
you said you had the will,
but it's gone - you only want
this much love
this
much love
this much love
you only want this much love
this much love
this
much love

you only want love

(this much love)

I've tried to sift and measure out
expecting less - I cut it down
you prove your points and justify
until you're right - and so am I
and your eyes hold the threat and the promise as well
but you never make good on half what you sell
if there's only one way we'll agree, that's okay
I just wish I could see why it was
- you only want
this much love
this
much love
this much love
you only want this much love
this much love
this
much love

you only want love

(this much love)

and the nail in my head has been pounding itself
it's been so long since you had to hammer at all
I have tried to make do, I have come to your terms
I have learned what it's worth,
what I'm worth
what I've earned:
just this much love
this
much love
this much love
you only want this much love
this much love
this
much love

you only want love

this much love.

friend

I really could use a friend right now
someone who isn't invisible
someone to sit and listen to
who'll make me believe we both are real
who'll make me believe I have free will
and that it would make a difference
and know I can take the world in stride
and know I could not take any less
and I have any number of friends like that!
just nobody near enough to guess

a new thing

There's a new thing
an entirely new thing
I've been trying to say lately
and failing miserably
but hey - maybe
can you see it in my eyes? Okay
tell me what it is,
slowly, so
I write it down.

a zombie

a zombie
is just a corpse who has starved back to life
but I don't want your brains, darling
only your heart
and all of your flesh,
and okay your brains as well
nothing goes to waste

I want to make all of you
one of me
just like I am now
mindless with need,
either that or
consume you entirely

I don't feel too well
I expect I don't look so good, either
especially to you! - so particular
have you always had
such exquisite taste?

and I never knew, oh
I probably guessed. But this
goes beyond confirmation
a suspicion come true

there is truth
in
jest

it isn't as if

it isn't as if
I care
or you care
or anyone cares
or do they? I don't care
to ask, it isn't as if
we'd believe them anyway. It's as if
we decided to let the whole thing ride
on faith to the point of suicide
without caring much which way we die
over the cliff, or stalled
and starved
frozen, exposed
excruciate, slow

so

suffocate, now.
Then get up, and go.

going to scream

if I don't scream,
I'm going to scream
and either way: the
problem's solved,
I guess

but either way
starts trouble, too
I'm so sick of "explain myself"

I'm running out of one excuse

but it's the best
that I can do. It was only a dream
I woke up from, you
know what a shock
that can be,
my love

but either way, now -
it was only a dream
if I don't scream -

I'm going to scream.

some assembly

Let's take what we have left
and put this all together
into something that feels
finished,

so we can leave it here

as a monument to "us"
(whatever that is), or
as a warning to others?

Either way there's work:
the pieces have been strewn
all over the place,
and the persons and things involved
all feel very replaceable
by now

forget

If I could,
I would pay myself to forget
how this feels. Unfortunately,
my heart doesn't take bribes.
I don't believe
anyone's can.

My brain takes bribes. If
you pay in drinks - soon
I can't comprehend why,
anymore. I forget whatever
I used to be willing to think.
Why I thought anything of this
could be a smart thing.

But it does no good, simply
to no longer understand

I forget why I loved you
but I remember that I love you.

a meditation

there is
nothing in my mind except
a shrinking circle
in a spreading void

blackness surrounds
and black encloses
and black is enclosed
as the circle grows

but the circle grows
only half as fast
as the darkness it can't quite grasp

"The Rest Is A Lie"

We were pretty much always in trouble
and we pretty much never cared
we were pretty much always in love, enough -
we had courage enough to spare

At its worst you'd always burrow into my embrace
and I'd squeeze you as hard as life
at its best there wasn't anything I could say
to convey
how
right

That isn't all.
That isn't all I have to say to you -
but the rest is a lie, the rest
is a lie.

The rest is a lie.

That isn't all -
that isn't all I have to say to you!
But the rest is a lie.
The rest is a lie, and
I'm the only one fooled.

Now the universe is a burst bubble
and the earth's atmosphere has a crack
I can't even get across how it feels right now
without saying stupid shit like that
As if hurt has got to be so "poetic"
to make up for love that was not
but so what, no poems, arts or literatures
could depict us
not one jot

That isn't all.
That isn't all I have to say to you -
but the rest is a lie, the rest
is a lie.

The rest is a lie.

That isn't all -
that isn't all I have to say to you!
But the rest is a lie.
The rest is a lie, and
I'm the only one fooled.

I'm fooled - I could go on and on, beyond truth
tell you that it's too late to take you back
tell you that it's run out of juice -
but the earth's atmosphere's a burst bubble
and the universe has a crack -
and as much as I would love to tell a lie to you,
there's a million true things
that I can't take back

That isn't all.
That isn't all I have to say to you -
but the rest is a lie, the rest
is a lie.

The rest is a lie.

That isn't all -
that isn't all I have to say to you!
But the rest is a lie.
The rest is a lie, and
I'm the only one fooled.

i kissed a girl because

I kissed a girl because
she was lonely and lovely
and needed kissin'. This
is the story of how
it all came about. She
came to me, and sat upon
a wall I myself had
been leaning upon all
afternoon. She said "upon
is one of my favorite words.
Please kiss me sir, for I am
lonely and need kissin.'" I said,
"lonely and lovely and need kissin',
I'd say." But at this

she sniffed, and turned her head.
"Fie upon your poetic corrections,
messire." My injured dignity shot back:
"go fie yourself! Fuck you
and your forced archaisms, bitch!" This
was perhaps an overreaction.
Then we kissed.

Tyrant: the Prequel

kindergarten's tough, and if
you are the second-fattest kid in class
according to miss bitch with pigtails
who can draw better than you,
and is so pleased with herself
she knows letters already (but
not what to do with them), you
shouldn't put too much stock in
what she says. Some people think
they can get so far ahead at the start
that it's going to matter later. Me,
I bide my time 'til recess comes.
Just past the clanging doors,
out from the inside dark,
moving now in a swarm of
kids running,
blinded

the sun suddenly stuns white hot
a flash of a world too-well lit, burned
to the backs of our eyes -
some squint, run, tumbling forward
all the faster -
I stop cold, and master
the situation.
I squeeze my eyes shut cool,
head craned back, looking up right
into the sun through red lids,
until the bright levels out.
Equilibrium.

I'm headed for the monkey bars! Over
by the baskets, there is a game of bats
vs. ghosts. The white lines on black asphalt
define the maze. It looks like the bats
have this one. I can see most of it -
I could see everything all around, but
most of it, I let pass without notice.
I'm not paying attention to the scurrying,
so far beneath me.

Sitting up here, at the top of this
cheerful half-dome of holes and red,
yellow, blue painted hollow iron bars,
I can - quite easily! - stomp
any encroaching fingers. Later
for cookie, triumphant swings of milk
and naps. Later

for pretending to learn to read. Later
for letting the world catch up, and pass by

if any of them cares to try.

again, with compassion

She walks like the stick up her ass
has become a source of pride. Hobbled
by heels that look like thick wicker stilts,
she's become comfortable at that height
I guess? But she looks so far from it!
Like a flightless bird,
ready to topple
as her shoulders begin to draw inward,
as if pulling in wings.
There's no wind.
She makes her way leaning forward,
her feet scuttling to catch up.
I gaze after her, and wish there could be some way
I could let her know
I could tell her that
despite this whole patronizing,
belittling series of observations
about her body
and walk,
I would totally, totally
do her

truth from this angle

Mirrors don't help us. Not
when we have to look with our own eyes,
which have seen it all, after all - and mostly
the bad part. From where you sit, it is hard
to see the best thing in the room. In your life. And
the people who love you, do
- and as much as you love them,
it's so easy to believe they're just
being nice.

Which is one thing I can't understand:
"We believe what we wish
to believe" - so we do! So why
do we wish to believe
the worst?

lose confidence

Oh don't be fooled! I lose confidence
all the time. Leave it strewn
and scattered in my path,
for others to pick up and find!
If I only I could turn back,
I'd find the confidence I lost.
But at what cost? Friends, at what cost?

neatly done, with practiced strokes

when I was small, I thought a soul had bones
your bones
it's anchored on
and when you die, here comes the knife
to cut through soul, and slice
along each white, long bone
slides blade. It pares
away the ligaments
and shears
connective webs.
Your soul is freed
and flayed
and laid
to weep and bleed
on tray, with sheets
- translucent, white -
of dry wax paper. Pray,

goodnight

.

Well

There is no real rush
with poetry! No crisis,
no urgency - it's not a limited
opportunity, the available words
are not going to change.
There are not better words now
than will be there later.
You are not creating
new
and special words,
in this magic moment,
that you must seize - or else
whatever you mean
will forever be irrecoverable.
No.
Those words are there. Waiting.
They will exist
later, because it's their
fucking job to.

Yours
is to pick and choose. Choose right? Perfect!
But there is no real rush. Choose wrong - choose
the not so perfect word? So what!
So what. The perfect word, if there is one,
will be there,
later,
to come back for. Later on,
When
/If
that perfect word occurs
to your notice - kill! That poem
you thought was done. Insert,
with surgery,
the perfect one.

Like Edgar Allan Fucking Poe. Do you know
how many times he wrote "The Bells"?
One.

So take your time. Why not?
Choose well.

a stirring breakfast metaphor

Life's a bitter bowl of grits, but
it's hot at least. And if you put
a little honey in - it tastes
pretty sweet! Or if you prefer salt,
you can salt to suit your taste. Grits
are flexible like that. Unlike, say,
Corn Flakes.

no hard feelings?

you want my life
to work out right
it's not your call
we're letting go
you know, you know
you just don't want to be the one
I look back on and say,
"That jerk's the turning point -
my whole path turned upon,
went wrong!"

You want to be the one
I want to think and look back fondly on

and say "She was a positive experience!
She built me up. Despite
how all things end, and all
I'm so glad
we began.
Yup, yup"

Yeah, that's the kind
of thing you'd like to think
I'd think of you someday,
when looking back.

Let's hope for that!
Meanwhile, just get out
of my way.

follow soon

follow soon,
as soon as you can -
I'll keep the sheets as straight as slices
warm as loaves

you do your best.
And do your work
and know I am
ahead of you
yes, just ahead
I've gone ahead
to make things soft
and square - our bed

as best I can
to lie in it

until you're there.

prayer

God,

just keep me from cancer,
and heart disease,
and help other people, God
please

God,

please

baby, don't

Well you're helpless inside your head
and wherever it aches
you can push all your needles in it
acupuncture with hate
but if all of the poison comes out
you'll be pouring more in
until all you can cling to is doubt
it's a sin,
it's a sin of pride. You
think you can take
someone so great as you
and break her down, and cave her in, babe it's true
babe it's true, don't do it
baby, don't
don't
don't

baby don't
don't
don't

baby, don't
don't
don't

baby don't
don't
don't

Well, you'll follow inside your head
to wherever it leads
it seems lately the stair's winding down
irreversibly
you count all of the bad advice, twice
but you turn a deaf ear
to all the people who say things so nice - are they blind?
or just insincere
you
ask yourself. Because you know better, hell
you've been around
your whole damn life
to beat you down, baby
Don't!
don't
don't

baby, don't
don't
don't

baby don't
don't
don't

baby, don't
don't
don't

It's not the mirror, the mirror tries
to show you beauty. It's your eyes
when did they stop seeing truly?
Did you ever see you truly?
Have you ever seen your beauty?

Because you're helpless inside your head,
and wherever it aches you can push all your needles in it.
Acupuncture, with hate. You count all of the bad advice twice,
but you turn a deaf ear
all the people
so desperately
say things so nice

Are they blind? or just insincere.

choreography

the sweetest high I ever had
to take your good and turn it bad
that sweet and pure persistent bliss
from innocence turned cynicist
and now you give me such a smirk
as we join in, to evil plans
turn in, in turn - corrupt the world
step in, in step - encircle, dance

bewitch bystanding innocents
the beauty of the dance we make
the fascinating web we weave
our bodies, lines, and souls at stake
and you do more than half the work
you've taken up the lead from me
this dance I planned is in good hands
you stole my choreography

me, too

you turn into crazy - when you drink,
and you think what you think is so true
and so deep
when we wake, you would pay
all the price of that pain
to remember one thing
that looks good to you
sane.

chronology

the calendar's a map of states
all perfect squares, with borders drawn
in all one color, day to day
the interstate runs through
one-way

and time and space cooperate
to move conflicting dates around
to blank, adjacent squares, and clear
the way to this engagement
now

but there's no way to stop the car
we're moving on, we can't delay
I'd love to get out, build a house
and settle down on this
one day

Sadly, we're just passing through
the interstate runs through
one-way. At least we're where
we want to be
right now!
enjoy

the
scenery

bitch, please

I try to be polite and stuff
your ignorance back in your face
your medicine - my compliments!
you're welcome, bitch.

How does it taste?

failed exorcism

I picked up this place
for a song. The cost
was suspiciously
far below market value.
But I knew about that.
And I'd fallen far,
from loved to lost
- the real estate agent
was perfectly honest:
she laid it all down.

So the deal was inked.
Three years ago, I moved
into this house, because
I had heard it was haunted. And how
I would love to be haunted! - by anything
else but the absence of you,
and the presence of what
you have left me without.

But your spirit moved
in, too.

Despite the fact
you're alive and well! Oh, all too
alive, all too well, I know.
And this whole house of ghosts
has gone quiet as souls:
the memory of you
permits no other holds.

Galactic South

The stars all hang differently
where you hang your hat
and your eyes must be full
of that light - but that's
not remotely enough
to explain how you see
all the world
how you hang it all up
in a breeze -
like magic lanterns,
strung on the ways

you catch it at play
and say, "Hey, look there!"
Well if God made all time
and space -

still: you have made this,
and so many more
of my days.

to go sushi

soy sauce
squirts like ink from its torn, ruined pouch
onto a fluffy green wad of bile-hot wasabi
strength dissolved by weakness
for the sake of the absorbent rice

pluck
each plump clump of precision sliced
organic geometry,

convey to sauce
and thence to mouth
in rapid assembly line

I wield these sticks
like an intermediate-level
expert, still conscious of my skill
not yet one with this extension of my hand

people say raw fish is disgusting, well
they should have seen the first draft of this poem

raisinets

raisinets
are the perfect illustration
of why the world needs pleasures
on a different scale to sex

performance

if you could put yourself in words,
could you read yourself aloud?
stand up straight, gesticulate
shake the crowd
and make them take
each syllable, so self-controlled
your meter, measured for effect
as words hit home, their meaning held
a pause
until released, into each listening brain
a spell -

a flower whose bloom would unfold like a bomb

and toll like a bell?

or would you
- with false aplomb -
hold forth with bombast,
whispers, with more show
than tell

explaining with your eyes, your voice,
your posture, how everyone should feel
about hearing your words?

and when you end,
run out
of the worst thing you could think to say

they all congratulate you on how brave
you are, and how powerful
it was

"Really?" you ask
because you are really not sure!

"Would you like one more?"

mercy

Sad suspense. We're done

our lives

A deep breath, and words plunge

like
knives

happy ending?

sometimes I find myself reading a book
that could go on forever,
to judge by the cover
and somehow I can't skip ahead to the end
'cause that would be cheating
I can't cheat, my friend
but the story keeps going
just keeps disappointing
I want to believe
that it's going to get better
if only I could peek ahead
one quick look!
and I'd know, then:
keep going
or
just
close the book.

"The Sweet One"

Sometimes you're such a bitch
but I'm not allowed to say that word
I'm not entitled to a simple curse
I think I'm going to be kept late at work
I bet I'm going to have to hear about it
do I exist compared to what you are?
I'm lucky if I ever got this far
I didn't mean to imply that it's hard
forget it all, forget it all, forget it

you're the sweet one in this
relationship
you're the bright one in this
relationship
you're the good one in this
relationship
it makes me sick, you know

it's just a pain, my heart has gone out to someone
so perfect and so deserving of one
so where were you when they were handing out them?
I guess you just must have seen me coming!
you know you'll never see me go away
you know I'm hopelessly yours for always
you know your better than the best I could get
you seem to know a lot of total bullshit,

you're the sweet one in this
relationship
you're the bright one in this
relationship
you're the good one in this
relationship
it makes me sick, you know

you've got a way with words and away with murder
I'll go so far, but you go one further
the wherewithal to make me feel worthless
you said to me that I'm your only weakness
I may be weak but at least I've got you
to point out all of the things I can't do
and all the habits I ought to run from
I look at you
I think you might have missed one

you're the sweet one in this
relationship
you're the bright one in this
relationship
you're the good one in this
relationship
it makes me sick,
you make me sick
you're the strong one in this
relationship
you're the calm one in this
relationship
I'm the wrong one in this relationship
it makes me sick, it makes me sick

you're the fine one in this
relationship
the kind one in this
relationship
you're the blind one in this
relationship
you make me sick, you know