Questionnaire

Lapping keystrokes of the woman beside me,
deferring her future Socratically,
Jewish basis,
not that I have a problem with the faith part.
It could be any religion,
rooted in tradition,
concrete
eternal.

She following questions to find where
she's going with
her tradition.

I'd ask what the hell was so frustrating
about her rabbi's aptitude test
so I could make conversation, but I
already
told her
I'd stay out of her business.

It's good for me to know
this stuff so I can tell myself
I'm not crazy like how I'm not
deteriorating, the voices are
lying, and she's not leaving me
by next week.

But she's just typing.
I'm reading and writing in Chinaski's book I got
for Chrismas. That's pretty much it.

Morning Headache

I sleep
2 hours, wake at
2 a.m. to lie awake for
2 hours, the
2 of us.

It will be a long day,
one where
your head either hurts
or tells you lies.

Everyday effort
of maintaining
continuous self-respect
starts with
acting and sometimes
acting as if,

as if
I might as well
explode
rather than give
tomorrow the
time of day.

Flowers are ugly,
petals so easily
crushed
frozen away.
I want something
stable, not just
a pretty picture.

For Dad

(I wrote this for my father for Christmas.)

Father,
you've always been
my Zeus,
at times with magnificent rage
others to my mortal defense.

I aged with resentment
so I would not be
you,
but it was something
unavoidable.

And now I am a man.

I like this man,
this man likes me.

If not for you, father,
if not for your constant
parenting, I would
certainly be a vagrant, clothes
unchanged,
begging for change.
At best, I'd be unhappy.

I've been
learning to survive with your
help, always.
I notice how we imitate
the same
tune,
the rhythm awkward,
key of F-sharp.

Mother's Daughter

ditzy porterhouse, jezebel
scurrying about in your
southern-charmed parlour,
awaiting some dupe to
bite your head,
to gargle your blood
in his asthmatic esophagus
before we all come
to our senses.

your whore doesn't do IT
for me, the compulsive
IT that drew us together,
a guilty saturate, the
one that keeps your woman
up at night when I
need a dry mattress
so my tears won't
pass through,
passing through on their
way to North Carolina,
just passing through.

Eyes and Veins

Grabbing for a smooth corner
of my bedroom

to maintain my isolation,
I'm caught by your

blue eyes,

blue veins,

so blue I could soak myself

in the desperate beauty,

so blue that I

can’t stay away.

A piano in harmony with

my hands

grappling the skin

against the assured rib
cage. 

Always incomplete,
I,

the holes in me

everywhere,

your blue eyes cover my head,

blue veins lead into my heart.

.

Her Nightmares

Rest with theoretical suffering,
disrupt the peace of
my company.

Darkness in the mind
cannot touch the
world we share.

Nightmares cannot become real,
could only have come already,
and you know this;

I'm as ineffectual
over your nightmares as
your mind.

Love's inadequacy sticks me,
a succulent spine between
my sternum,

multifaceted and, naturally,
coated with a odious resin
like childhood.

We were red with rebellion
and called it
determinism.

You were fearless
and it brought you
nightmares.

Mold

mold fills my eyes

when I look upon

the chair.  I feel it

fill my lungs at every

intake,

a living plague,

filling me with

carcinogens that spread

over time

into my organelles,

smudged

black as dusk,

signalling to Fate I've

accepted my condemnation,

nothing to hope for.

Decay with every

sustaining breath,

green, black and white

pathogens with musk.

I stay away to protect

the more fortunate

bastards,

fuzzy with

self-satisfied affection.

the smell faded

months ago

for me,

and I’m glad

because

life is shitty

enough

without being reminded

of how bleak

it is.

Walking Home when You Live Downtown (Winter)

You're on a street corner
early evening
too cold for your flannel.

Your friend is late
and you walk home,
taking Fern Street;
14th sounds scary.

The grates do not
shine, nor will they help you,
stoic you both are,
artificial mirrors.

Metal makes the stores
blend, all those pointless inventories.

People look with disgust
because you're a stranger;
they're disgusting
because your trust must be earned.

People who matter have
somewhere to go;
you couldn't wait
another judgmental minute.

The mucous on your sleeve
shines brighter than the streets.

The next corner:
16th and Pine.
16th doesn't sound safer,
not like 40th
where you're going,
going.

God's Love

God loves the grotesque.
God made them that way,
made them that way to
keep me away from the bad things.
God made things
squish, and others
sticky, and others still
crunch vocally when you
bite them.
That's why it feels
bad to see something
I shouldn't, because
God didn't want me to watch.
And God forbid if I
touch and then
taste any of it,
God forbid!
God wants me to listen to the piano;
God wants me to look at pretty things,
not touch!
I might break them
or make them dirty,
so God forbids.

A Calm Suburban Evening

Limbs rose on a blackened afternoon,

the night I sunk low,

low because you left,

lower because I could have

stopped you from leaving.

now my crumpled letter

is just a parcel of trash,

ferried to the dumps

where it waits for me.

I go home where

it’s quiet

enough to think-

think, that’s all

there’s to do

and where my folks

close the door

so I won’t bother them

with the latest girl

or when I lovingly pet my only friend,

in front of their doorway

on a Stokes Forest Green carpet.

My cat,  

my cat would detect

when I was maligned

and come to me,

but now she does not purr

when I scratch her,

only stares,

my fingers a mother’s tongue

on a kitten grown old,

one that no longer trusts me

because I am not worthy,

so let me die

in this staunch mold-ridden

tomb,

the end to a parasite, this  

without self-reliance;

nullify the weak

before they multiply.

Simple Kiss

I tell you:
there are limitless
parcels of
that waning and waxing
infatuous reservation
of mine.

For simplicity,
I could go on
and on
by the purity of
your laughter,
the whimsy of
your smile, or
the input of
your embrace
and that would be fine.

And maybe simplicity
is best,
available for anyone, but
that wouldn't be why
I told you this.

Whether it be from
the songs and sights,
or the darkened windy day,
and all the little creatures who are
almost always passed over,
my inspiration comes from you,
as if everything I could see
hear or touch
was made in your form
for me to seek out.

So,
I am obsessive,
at times,
and I like to say
hello,
so please know
that I feel destined for you,
for your seal,
and I will seal this
with a kiss.