She
the Crystal Virtue
Three Wishes
An abundance
Lili Marlene
A Privacy For Me
12-02-90
the Curse
Trapped Sounds
I Felt Her Pain
Al-Khassan
(he was mute)
the Impact of Mythology
Victory (defeat)
Last Night
the Angel
the Morning Song
If Love Is Real
Political Maxim
The Dream of the Watch
Conscience
P.
She has so many friends
She holds so many leashes
go to top
Stop, don’t say another word
Let me remember you as perfect as you are
For if we go on
You won’t seem perfect any more
(and it’s this I can’t stand)
go to top
The effort of staying alive makes me weary
And I grow old in my supreme loneliness
The last of my three wishes will be to see properly go
to top
I wish that you could hear me now
My voice is deep and strong
I wish that you could see me now
For my hair has grown quite long
I want the nerve to call you
I want to see you smile
I’d love to hear your laughter
Every once in a while
go to top
Lili Marlene
Kissed me on the cheek
Who was she?
I never thought we’d meet
go to top
I wrote all the words
In the small of your back
A confession of warmth
I happened to lack
go to top
I often think of submarine commanders
And the ways they have
Of explaining silence
go to top
The hollow words that
Fit together so well
Create a blasphemy of love
From which there is no exorcism
Pleasing angels enter my mind
I know that they are my friends
go to top
She had hooves… and hid her hands…
She dreamed of eyes… I wanted to see…
What was in her palm…
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I felt her pain… I knew her name
She went insane… it was never the same
go to top
They said that his best poem
Was about rabbits
I tried to see it their way
“A young poet
Searching for his voice”
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He died one night
Following his hollow soul by years
The coroner’s report:
“Death By Bicycle
A hateful fork between his cheeks”
The poem told of a ride
Late a night
Past… the
Melancholy
Houses… of
A sleepy suburbia
The poem distilled within him
As he took note of
The many forms of swellings
People in-habited
The highway turnoff (grass, trees)
He inhabited it himself, all alone
Oh, the dreams he had
Of the soil he touched
Or the café he created
Strolling past vendors
Or in the phrases he coined
The night continues
Past the highway cloverleaf
Couple glimpsed on the highway
Rushing off to make love
Desperate for a fantasy
The tunnels and tubes
Our forlorn societies
Composed of stretching
Buildings – the unimportant husks
We pass by at night
Lonesome travelers
With your world so large
Where do you extend yourselves to?
Self-inflicted on the path to loneliness
The poem was forgotten when he got home
I found that poem
Had almost nothing to do with rabbits
go to top
A Wendigo spirit has chilled me
A Golem’s touch has brought solitude
The withering Warlock and Hell-hound
Both untie my hands
(Oh Eros, it does no good)
I trace my bowie knife
Over the same groove twice
It follows the line
Engraved in my brain
It’s always there
Meaning more than once
A line forms there
F(or)ever
go to top
You have achieved a great victory
When you know she is sad to be leaving you
(When you are sad to be leaving her
It is a hollow loss)
go to top
Last night I dreamed I couldn’t sleep
Your threats are unfulfilled desires
Our pet fish died tonight
We buried him at sea
go to top
An angel just flew over me
(blotting out the sun with its great inky wings)
It didn’t stop by me
(thank God…)
go to top
He says the words so softly
She begins to weep
(the day has begun)
go to top
Love is fragile
If love is real
Love is what
I think and feel
go to top
Greatness survives
Mediocrity dies
go to top
Doors of unhappiness
Open up wide
Inviting me always
To step on inside
There go my dreams
Scurrying by
Offering a curse
As their only reply
Crossing my gaze
The people I meet
Before they move on
Shuffling down the street
A broken soul
In a heart-broken town
Heart like a stone
Six feet under ground
go to top
Slum slum slum – I want to scour your streets
Collect the ashes
Rebuild cigarettes and gutted buildings
I want to un-rape your victims
I want to take all the Harlem drugs
Into my own body – to save you
…my love
go to top
Plethoras and plethoras
Of pity and poverty
Pounded into puny pancakes
By Pontius Pilate
go to top
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