Sit! Ah, martinette: For your whip–smart crack–of–the–heels: Well done. Here’s a pet. And, Black, you hussy: with your delinquent, rebellious, impertinent leer for a pet without praise: Very well.
Month: March 2011
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Animal Lover
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I’m in a parking garage. I’m renting three cars at the same time and use one key for all three of them… because they are the same make. It’s important I have three going at the same time in order to accomplish something.
I’m on a ramp facing traffic. There is a police officer checking the speed of the cars as they pass. I turn the key. My car battery is dead. The police officer starts to drive over to give me a jump. I start ignition again. The car starts. It’s important I keep going to avoid having to accept a jump.
Without checking traffic (and right in front of the policeman) I go onto the street. My seat is schwounced up and my face is almost pressed against the window shield. I can barely move to steer. This is embarrassing just in front of the cop and even worse if I get into an accident.
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Only when we are grown up do we understand our innocence is as beautiful as our savvy; we leave that part out.
PG
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Pa, I know the stubble of your beard. You kissed me goodnight after you missed dinner, working late. I take that stubble to my grave. I tell God about your stubble. Those nights you let me shine the light for you under the car I have absorbed all of that light. I am full of that light. When you hinted I might be another Einstein I am an Einstein so as to fulfill your pride of me. Your insight that I need no other guidance but my own I turn this straw into gold. Pa, perhaps this story is incomplete It is enough. Thank you, Dave
Rumpelstiltskin
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Hard to explain this blubbering ’mid forest woods near silvery stream tugged along by black and blonde dogs hunting twixt moonbeams
Outburst in Emptiness
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It's hard to carry a tune
Some, singing from their youth,
seem naturally talented
We are such picky receivers
Yet, what a delight when some song
pushes our buttons
over and over again
playing ourselves
back to ourselves
Winds up in a mystical collection
Yet no way to share with another
the depth of its echoes through us
the hidden–spot tickle of its touch
Agony unshared
A dread to share
As like it falls on deaf ears
the horror of triggers missing in another
the tip–top registers of our soul
And this some polished piece of painstaking production
How much more terrifying
when we play ourselves
I trip along as the band plays on
I might look queer, but I'm certain
no one holds a candle to my musicTorch Song
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First, the finding of the cloth: something to cling to Then, the pulling, wondering: what will it lead to? Then, an acceptance of its never–end and the assured fashioning clothes from its threads
Magician’s Trick
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Forgive my bluntness
when I insist
I’m eternal and wise as the universe
In perceiving you
I see you in me
There is my heart, in you
You, flapping around,
doing your own thing
When shall we tea in the kitchen?
heart to heartPerceptiviteapot
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Perhaps a mistake
to forgo the ache
making of one’s self a human
With spiteful tenacity
takes herself as lover
A joyful bed
in loving herself, loves the world
Gobbling down gleams of inspiration
indulging strange urges and combinations
to satiate the little one
secretly nursing, growing embarrassing
From a patchwork of snacking and digesting
miraculously combining
into a self–contained story
its own life
Flesh and blood for others to see
critique, abjure recklessly
Perhaps to glimpse fragility
imbibe what magnificence might come
if they too put out
be awestruck and taken–inArtistry
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I’m not sure and my curious desire allows me to be carried away anyway
Faithful Seduction
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