Unarmed |
You extend your hand in peace.I plant my militant stance in black leather bootsAnd raise, point blank, My death machine to your foreheadStroking the fragile trigger with ...
Posted by on Thu, 23 Feb 2006 06:09:00 GMT |
Munched Away |
Munched Away
Turn your head away from the glow,
That brilliant warm light of QVC,
TV ads
And late night infomercials.
Sleep, or inspect
The cellophane wings of the flies
Meeting for dinner
On...
Posted by on Tue, 20 Dec 2005 04:03:00 GMT |
Tile |
Tile
The patterns of public restroom floors
Were designed to distract.
When I feel inclined to carve
Switchblade style
The momentary trinkets of my mind
Into that thick, metal stall,
I am ...
Posted by on Tue, 20 Dec 2005 04:00:00 GMT |
Tomato Sandwiches |
Tomato Sandwiches
Ive seen her wrinkled hands fold in her lap
Clutching that worn out tissue that I think
She keeps close just for the comfort of softness.
Ive seen her thin eye lids c...
Posted by on Tue, 20 Dec 2005 03:59:00 GMT |
Breathing is an Art |
Breathing is an Art
The air does not settle
Or escape my lungs
In repeated volume or rhythm.
They are not factory machines
Pumping out daily quotas
Of plastic dolls
With the exact same ...
Posted by on Tue, 20 Dec 2005 03:56:00 GMT |
Shelocta Tree |
Shelocta Tree
It stood the way an old crippled octopus would
If it were practicing headstands in an open field.
Its ash gray tentacles slithered out far beyond the body,
Drying and cracking at ...
Posted by on Tue, 20 Dec 2005 03:49:00 GMT |
Candy Jar |
Candy Jar
Bulimia: its a genius technique
That keeps shoulder blades looking sharp
And the long vertical strand of beaded vertebrae
Testing the elasticity of spandex skin.
When I see those ti...
Posted by on Thu, 27 Oct 2005 15:34:00 GMT |
Dead Bird |
Dead Bird on Erma Street
Through distracting square holes
In the kitchen window screen,
I see a cubists version
Of a dead bird on Erma Street.
A runt.
A ball of gray fuzz puffed way ...
Posted by on Thu, 27 Oct 2005 15:27:00 GMT |
Tiny Beats |
Tiny Beats
When the white windows turn black
Your bare chest becomes a pillow.
Gravity pulls my temple to your surface
And I hear tiny beats inside you.
Beneath skin, muscle and bone
So...
Posted by on Thu, 06 Oct 2005 02:29:00 GMT |
Clean |
Clean
Quiet mouths hide shy secrets.
Skins of peas blanket molars.
The muscle of pig is mashed and squeezed,
Jammed between two planks of bone.
Beet juice paints thick coats of violet
A...
Posted by on Thu, 06 Oct 2005 01:46:00 GMT |
