Woodland

Woodland

Maybe I could have had friends
in the 5th grade
who discovered Playboys
in the Hills
but they didn't share with
me anyway. Not understanding
all the holes, the differences.
Maybe I could have explained.
We could have played doctor,
perform invasive surgery
on each other.

Cheeks

Cheeks

The back of my hand
is cushioned with short hair
& bulging veins
my finger extends
to stroke the itch
on my face flesh
against flesh I know
the back of my hand
when covered in cucum-
ber-y seeds, divots
in my cracked pores
from the same sickness
giving me the itch
in my skeletal cheeks.

Patron Saint of Artillerymen

Patron Saint of Artillerymen

I'm a foward thinking
forty year old
woman. Balding
at 22, want to travel
to Butan & reminisce
about Monet dress-up
parties & slipping beyond
the veil; Esotericism
at it's finest & most
delicious. Hang-
glide to forget the child
lost in sleep-
less nights fire-
fighting. Eat strawberries
covered in chocolate at hotels
in Hawaii because you think
they're free-
eat them anyway.

Farmer Man

Farmer Man

"Individuals don't win.
Teams do." Sam Walton.
Tell that to Olympic Gold,
Sammy Boy. Your silhouette
is written in tongues:
Integrity, Nyay, Fiducia,
Trust, Nyay, Vishwas,
Respect, égalité, Nyay,
honestitad, Nyay You,
Nyay, You, Nyay, You. I think
someone graffiti'd Hitler's moustache
on your blue & white face, but
it's only a shadow
speckling your stiff upper lip.

Falling Angel

Falling Angel
first lines from chapters in Falling Angel by William Hjortsberg

It was Friday the 13th,
666 Sth Ave. was the unhappy
six-year old Chevy
I drove back.
It grew dark outside
after midnight, when
(Monday morning was fair)
when you're not on Broadway:
two bars, seventh avenue,
uptown BMT,
found cigarette behind departed
pharmaceuticals. By the time I'll get
to the path, I'll burn
in Hell.

(Intention is to echo the tone of the novel with a sense of confusion/surrealness that the narrator represents...)

MJ Should Have Left Cisco

MJ Should Have Left Cisco

I've never seen San Francisco
fog, but it looks like grains
of rice avalanching photography
& they say, "you can't see
your own hand revealed before
your face" & "don't drive."
Beautiful frauds: The fog
is milk & we drive with our hands
over our eyes anyway; blinding
sight of Holy Holy
Holy shit-
city that sunk
when Ginsberg drowned
Kerouac & they were all beat
by the mass of naked crazed youth
Burroughsian-rimming their geniuses with nothing left
but shit-lip spewing mouths
& bad breath.

Weiners

Weiners

I saw cock & wond
-ered how
I could use it
in a poem. Subs
-tit
-ute cock
for dick? Dr. Seuss
-ian rhymes with schlongs?
Medical penis? Attach
genitals to genitals –
testicles to loose labia,
shaft inser
-ted, head on
clitoris. Male nipples
on female breasts. Cocks
designed in my own image:
sensitive, gush
-ing, breathing
through ears with flex
-ible tongue exploring taints
& anus. Licking
medical words. But
cock only seems to fuck
-ing fit in my verse
where taboo becomes typ
-ical, daring be
-comes predictable.

18:04–18:19/ 23:06–23:21

18:04 - 18:19
there's this faucet at work
dripping...unceasing.
clocking in dripping
flesh door dripping
cheerios dripping
cute teacher dripping
going to meal dripping
roll on dripping
wet kisses dripping
cardboard boxes dripping
bills dripping
back from meal dripping
crowning dripping
cord dripping
flat tire dripping
aisle dripping
pill dripping
stuck dripping
blood dripping
funeral dripping
clocking out dripping
unceasing...dripping
the damn faucet at work
on my brain.

23:06 - 23:21
the free cookies
came in broken
boxes, stale.
the original brand's,
"the Bakery's," "baked
with pride," logo's
a rolling pin with bulbous tip.
net weight: 28
veiny, hairy, girthy
ounces of chocolate
chip cookies.

Questions for the President Prescription For America

Questions for the President Prescription For America

Might I suggest or may I suggest
a cigarette, Red Vines or Twizzlers?
Put or pull out method?
Method Man’s method, man?
Why are Polish men? When man lies
R Kelly Fiesta Remix (Dirty Remix)
dirty girl mud run sun mudfish
Fishy va-
lentine’s sayings for him or for her?
May I or can I
holla at ya?

Save Money. Live Better.

Save Money. Live Better.
for Jacob

4 p.m.
I unload
pallets and pallets at work.
Bombing down dusty aisles,
my ten-foot cardboard monsters,
at breakneck speeds of five mph,
scream with rusty wheels. Customers
freeze in terror, never get out of my damn
way. Departments: Chemicals pills
sporting good clothes
food crafts bedding 
auto electronic furniture.

7 p.m.
Racks and racks
of hanging apparel
delivered to a lady who
never appreciates a job
well done. Burnt backs
pushing their Sisyphusian carts
with honking car vultures
circling.

Midnight
I get off at one
o’clock on the dot
(no overtime, never over-
time) and time again
recycles, it's already
the next workday.

The sky is black, starless,
except for the humming white
fluorescent moon against
abyss. Literally starless––
a tarmac draping
over the lot, a wall over the mart.

1 a.m.
Every night we’re visited by
a coyote that will eat
out of your hand. My coworkers
named him “Jacob.” His head guides
his slim body toward and away
from me like the tides,
ears never stop pointing.
I don’t give him a name.
I don’t call him anything.

It needs to get away
from the emptiness
of a nighttime parking lot:
I want to lie in the dirt with
the coyote, let his fangs tear
at my jugular first, work
their way to my chest and stomach, turn
me and dirtied blood mud ground into one
pile that will never be discovered. Just me
and the coyote, rotting in a Californian chaparral
under a starry sky.

Sometimes I hear my name
on the radio and turn it off,
wait for a wild call that never comes.