1992

1992

Turning Eighteen
Aushwitz – what a great word eh?
I wonder what it means
Ignorance is my pillow
Stupidity, the breath of  teens.
I’m skating on a very thin layer of ice
And like a bad joke I’ll fall through
– Grandpa’s colloquialisms are killing me –
It’s more like saran-wrap and glue.
But my sanity is like a shatter-proof window
As much as Midas’ touch was like gold.
I am happy and care-free and pretty,
But inside I know I am sold.
The Dance of  The Absurd jingles round me,
But at least I can still get to sleep.
I am tired and hurting and hungry
And the water is cold, clear and deep.


THE NORTH
The North is calling me.
An eagle’s breath
A clarity of skies
And water-laden air
A turning of leaf
A crisping of snow
A shining of green
And the calling of the cicada

As we go cliff-jumping
into the trout and
salmon laden liquid….
The pink ageless rocks
do ring downwards

Scorched
Scorched, the earth was dry
A crust had formed     under the sun
Scabbing off in flakes
With no blood oozing out from beneath
Only dry, brittle bones

The Kite
    The kite is flying way up high
The clouds are set against the sky
But it is not a ceiling
I know that behind it lies the
Cold
Black
UNIVERSE

The Wind
The wind may whistle through the leaves on my tree
Speaking
To my soul
The wind          whistles        through the leaves
Speaking
To my soul
Speaking to me

Truth
    Truth presents itself in the murky waves
When a crystal pierces through the surface
Peeling the liquid away
Pushing the ooze to the sides
And lodges in the hard bottom till all eternity

The Baggage
The baggage rolled onto the floor
And from it came an apple
Who made his lopsided, weary way
Over the curbside, into the gutter
There the apple stayed and stayed,
And stayed and stayed forever.

Nokhos’ lullaby
    Sleep my darling sleep
Let go of all your fears
Let the wind howl your furies
Pouring rain voice your tears

Let the rivers dance your happiness
Your hope be the clouds above
Let the oceans be your energy
Let the very air be your love.
Sex

Sex is your voice in the distance
A thundering on-coming cloud
Your look is a bright  jolt of lightening,
The message is deafening, loud.
Your touch is nothing like fire,
It is more like a Blitzkrieg in Spain.
Sex is us dancing like continents
Sex is nothing but pain.
Sex is the heat of an oven
That is turned-up way past the sun..
Sex is us kissing and petting.
Sex should be nothing  but fun.
Sex is like playtime at recess
It is exhilarating, sinister and mean.
Sex is us wrapped round each other.
Sex is flowers and picnics and green.
Sex should go on forever
Four legs are better than two.
Sex should be anything but literal
Real sex is me inside you.
Sex is the national past time.
The world’s best-ever game.
Sex is a God-given party.
And it will cleanse us like
the cool,  clear, clean rain.

Thinking of school, praying to God, and my anger…
Like the crack of dawn
I’ll break this school down
And shake this place
And shave your frown.
And the blood will pour out
And blind your eyes
And clog your nose
And attract shit-flies.
And you’ll open your mouth
But your voice will be gone
Stolen away
By a seventh-dimension swan.
Usher in THE NEW AGE
Take away our pain
Or leave us here to suffer
Though we’ve nothing left to gain.
Fuck-off with all your marks and grades
Your pathetic REALITY  of sin.
Free me to be what I should be;
Open the door and let me in.

watching water

Pounding    pounding    pounding
The blood gushes, bouldering over
Waves, sneaking around rocks
Crashing branches, scraping soil
Turning through itself
Rushing, pounding, pounding.

Untitled

I am tired
I am smooth
Like warm, buttered marble
With blood, Can’t you see it
poking through my fingernails
and my eyes.
I am like soapstone
You hold me in your hand
and chip away at me
but you don’t scratch me

I am like play-doh,
You shape me

I am like water
I can
evaporate

disappear

        Woman
Woman — you are unhappy
I can see you sitting in the closet
I can see you biting your nails in rage
I can see  you smashing your head against the wall
I can see you die.

Becoming Perfection
My body
Is like a smooth, opalene crystal.
Underneath the shiny veins
In the hard, hard casing
There is a pulsing, blood-fed
Metamorphosis.

July 1st
They call me a dreamy idealist when
really I’m just sticking by my morals.
At least I’m not a realist (which
is just a pass-word for
barbarian opportunist).

        In North Dakota
The noonhour sleepytime bedecks me
And my jumbled old thoughts all curl up.
The past is a present preciseness
And the heat is my pillow of fluff.
    My crackling cranial campfire
Is keeping me nice toasty warm.
My bootlaces are tied up too tightly
But at least they are being well-worn.
So take, take, take me to bed now the gang’s all gone!

The Lovers

The lovers sat down at the table
One Eye across from the other
A hand clenched on a silver fork, and pictured…
Alternately stabbing it into his heart
Or into her own.

The lovers sat across at the table
And stared into separate windows.
A fist in a lap by a napkin
Wanted to raise itself and shatter the vase
Holding the rose of sorrow between them.

The lovers sat
And their eyes met
And a terrible spitfire cat ran across.
The two minds met
And the thunder crashed
But the hands stayed still
And the love died.


Prophecies

The Seventh Fire
The Time is Coming
The Age is Changing
The Axis is Shifting
The Continents are sliding
The Hate is Burning Away
The Universe is Shining Brighter
The Door is Opening
The Crack is Widening
The Spirits are Entering
And I am Released.

Untitled
The pounding wreaths
And riverbed
Flowed over my limbs
And Thro’ my head
And ‘though my love’s lost,
Newly dead
To her spring’s toss
I she wed
For over cloven truth
And alley
I will chase her
Horse and valley
Through the windfell avenue
Lie lover’s tears, by two on two.
And ‘though this stage is newly past
I know that it not be
The last
For all this live-long sunless night
Our lives are hamstrung; heartbeat; flight.

Silly Princess
A dark-skinned prince on  black horse rode
Pounding hoof-beats, down they throwed
And on her heart-step the sunrise showed
The Prince of Forest Bower.

Hearing song of  honey sweet
The prince’s hooves, they slowed their beat
And thro’ the window eyes did meet
The Girl of  Darkling Tower.

But as the growing wind did tear
The witch bade girl, “Let down your hair!”
Yet the girl did naught but simply stare
For the Prince of  Forest Bower.

Four times only did the Lovers meet
‘Till silly girl, so young, so sweet
Did to the witch expose her treat
Of the Prince of  Forest Bower.

Witch’s lament
Little jewel,
My precious flower
Was it not enough,
Our island tower?
In my life
Are few things dear
And to my breast
I hold them near.
I cage them up
And lock them down
But ne’ry ever
Came a frown
Until that clod came riding by
And heard your sweet song
Lullaby
But now he’s cursed
And so are you
The purest love
Cursed through and through
But remember dear,
And this you must
As the sun burns through
Your once-ripe lust
That as into the desert
I thee thrust
My body, my soul
Turned into dust.

For Leah, Jen, and Mia
My friends, oh my friends.
You  are my blood, you are my limbs.
You are my pall-bearers, you are my maidens.
You are my shadows, you are my twins.

My friends, oh my friends.
You could kill me with a twitch of a nose.
How do I express that which binds me to you
With a pen of only poetry and prose.

You are the golden linked chains that adorn me.
The welcome weights of love
You will give me strength or you will kill me
As decreed by the soft winds above.

My friends, the three girls who saved me.
My shrinks, my shoulders, my dove.
With this poem is one thing I give you,
And that is my undying love.