The jingle of keys |
The jingle of keysMy hands diving wild into the seams of my leather loveseat,A duck for food :cushion, pillow, throw.My makeup caked into a sad clown face.Pants custed with yesterday's potato soup.As ...
Posted by Zorro on Tue, 12 Feb 2008 12:47:00 PST |
how you feast-- a poem about not fucking |
you feast alone now but not just your body in sheets--at kitchen counters standing soldier drippy tacos, salsadown the sleeve because sitting requirespurpose; dinner table so fori...
Posted by Zorro on Mon, 08 Oct 2007 01:31:00 PST |
call to arms, the call for me, the call to prayer |
tyranasaurus trees tower over me high noonthe thin old blanket between me and the earththe swings on the set soar rapid like demolition ballsat opposite polars everytime.--a lawnmower,a crowsmog and s...
Posted by Zorro on Wed, 05 Sep 2007 11:57:00 PST |
bemused |
five to 1 you're done--mind the cat piss
i walk ahead of you in the puddles to make footprints perfect in the red cement.sunlight leaking through my slip
the mist halo of hairthe neighbors have ...
Posted by Zorro on Fri, 24 Aug 2007 05:40:00 PST |
airplanes and property |
the airplace gently shakessteady as the eight year old's foot taps on the back of my seatprecise as a metronome never breaking;the clock on my wall ticks while i try to sleep,never breaking beat.the s...
Posted by Zorro on Thu, 02 Aug 2007 12:15:00 PST |
falling |
Five foot corn stalks tunnel this country road.Our headlights pierce the darknessMy younger brother and i drive home,Windows down: crickets and mosquitos sing-song in the ditches.Our heads stil...
Posted by Zorro on Fri, 13 Jul 2007 11:08:00 PST |
the poem for no one |
a poem to no one.a poem to be carved on fresh paint of corporate bathroom walls,in ramada inn's; spray painted on train cars rolling cross country.
a poem to say into a lover's sweaty neck, to co...
Posted by Zorro on Sat, 07 Jul 2007 07:16:00 PST |
fingers in mouths |
sticky with sweatfansskirtsvanilla vodka music with accordian
i want to speak to youi want you to hear my voicethe words aren't important butthey are yourswhen we lie togetherin a arrayment of ...
Posted by Zorro on Wed, 13 Jun 2007 12:46:00 PST |
out of the ashes I rise with red hair, I eat men like air. |
red lipsticknaked feetchai teabeware bewareyellow yellow yellowyour hands are cold in mine i can hear your voice ring after you speak...
Posted by Zorro on Sat, 09 Jun 2007 12:30:00 PST |
a poem |
My Mother's Pomeranian
It makes you nervous when I pace like this--To kitchen for water, to office, to bathroom, to kitchen , to bed, to kitchen, to bed
When I exit the room, you stan...
Posted by Zorro on Tue, 29 May 2007 11:43:00 PST |
