30 June, 2012

Mesh Matched


Today I released 1500 lady bugs onto my garden. Shook them from their net bag like a salt shaker all over my plants. The little buggers went to town on the aphids! So I sat, rolled a smoke, and watched them crawl around getting away from each other. Spreading out. Finding out how big the world is. And eating something other than dead brothers and sisters ain’t half bad I imagine. Then the miraculous. One sets to fly. I see him buzzing his wings like a boy discovering his first erection. A wondrous new feature unfolding. Up he goes. Hovering at first. Then like an experienced pilot he flies in a large loop around the garden, slowly spiraling upward with each pass. The whole time I am cheering. Saying yes. Giving his voice over. “Oh my god! You guys! You have to try this! It is so much better than I ever imagined.” I exhale smoke and remember feeling like a bug in a mesh bag many times in my life, and then I smile at how well I can fly now.

Yggdrasil


I am the old Oak Tree on the hillside
with roots called parents
and branches called children
where friends are welcome to build nests
and lovers carve their names into my trunk
spending my days
living against the weather
reaching for the unreachable

Boxer Spots


and the clits get tickled to tip-toes
and how this story goes, is
a man once peddled petals to roses
slowly rolling the slip up
and holstered his gun
quick with his wit
and young with his tongue
at the end of which—shot stars— from simple nibbles
only the poets know of the lips to lips kiss in the middle
a place of quivers and arrows and bull’s-eyes
ached, he did, to bring some warmth to her cold thighs
feeling around in the dark
for the last piece of her spark

27 June, 2012

Gamble


Zing. Click. (laughter)
Zing. Click. (laughter)
Two gacked out gangsters play
woops-I-shot-myself-in-the-head
I leave because I don’t believe in luck
I need red vines and a cool breeze
too many fallen angels these days
littering the sides of drive-thrus
no boxes to fill in
no thesis to conclude to
not another round of orally ovulating the dead horse
fuck
pretend you’re not trying to say anything
and you slip up and say something anyway
does that belong to you?
lilacs always dry darker than their mother’s day brightness
we hung them in the windows, by their ankles in the spring sun,
White roses veining blue with food coloring in the vase
waiting patiently for some sort of solution
a solid if not stable way to end all this
happiness churning around inside me
this mass of unused happiness
mere fruit rotting on the counter
I blame Mother’s Art Supplies
pulverized not so much this time
this mind, a sack of meat, won’t work someday
I am in a hurry
to tell you all what happened
but new shit is happening
happening all the time
and one day
it will have all happened
all of it.
Happened.
and perhaps I am insane
why wouldn’t I be
I must write to find out
digging and rooting around in the soil
building books
cordless books for the cordless people
bring all your lead-based paint-chip children
suck some warm kool-aid down with me
and remember Chernobyl day
shaving our heads to look like cancer kids
handing out fliers on dying to the already dead
and enjoying the multicolored
pain filled rainbows
one last breath at a time
because I don’t believe in luck

26 June, 2012

Angry Angels


and I'm angry at myself for getting angry again
just another piss-off marring the day
kicking my house down
creepo-breathing into my ear
a moist voice slithers inside me 
while tied to the chair of resentment
wrangling the last stallions
from the endless prairie
here comes the wild fire
hands like old orange peels
shoveling coals into the blaze
rage as high art
strangled, gutted,
a broken-toothed angry anger
angering the angels of heaven
maybe that makes us even
one fingernail at a time
 

23 June, 2012

Community


Share with me
those blocks on carpeted preschool floors
where we sang “ashes to ashes” together
like we were all dying

share with me
how to fall down
scabs and scuffed knees
pain is a language we all speak

share with me
pieces of your timid tenderness
some kisses and some giggles
and so much of something else that has no name

share with me
the ear to your imagination
and sink yourself
into the stories of how we make it out of this

share with me
the warmth of your home
when the weather changes to misfortune
and let me thaw, there near the hearth

share with me
your vast patience
and I will show you
that not even the birds are born to flight

share with me
the simple things
when I grow hungry—break bread with me
and I will always nourish your soul

share with me
your suffering
and I will show you
my love