The backward talks of folks whose mouths are sewn on sideways.

Little miss Moffett whose thoughts are all of profit
sits next to the spider whose eight eyes are all on a fly across the room.
But an old woman walked in and promptly tripped atop it.
She fell forward with a “gasp!” and the fly flew right in.

“Congratulations, you’ve won!” screamed miss Moffett
with dollar sign designs on the old ladies purse strings.
“You’re the first who’s tripped through that door today!”
The old woman brushed off her knees, and stood up precariously. Her bonnet was askew, and as she reached up to straighten it, her stomach made a loud gurgling noise.

She said “I do believe I’ve swallowed a fly!”
“I can sell you this spider…” said miss Moffett, sly.

And on it went, Old Lady in tow,
Miss Moffett selling animals all down the row.

As each one went in, the Old Woman looked grim.
“How will I get rid of this one now then?”

Until finally she sat, split at her seams,
a cowbell faintly ringing from inside her blue jeans.

Moffett ran up, with a stallion in tow–
“This’ll get rid of that cow, don’t you know!”

The Old Lady looked spent, her heart wasn’t in it,
“My purse is vacant.” she said, “–I just can’t afford it.”

Miss Moffett’s eyes fell, and brow furrowed hard.
“You could always sign up for our new credit card.”

The old Lady relented and filled out the forms.
“This is great,” Moffett said, “you’ll get that bull by the horns!”

Of course the old woman died, as you’re no doubt aware,
her heart trampled flat by a whinnying mare.

[Lets call this a silly statement about capitalism. Here’s the old woman lyrics in case you want to refresh your memory.]

spirit abrasions

Don’t we all long to say something profound?
Longing is, in this sense, a diversionary tactic–
an escape from the reality of saying nothing, or
saying something pointless or irrelevant.

Run for it.

Breathe into your hand,
smell the sound of your lies
between the cracks of your fingers,
slipping out into night.

I wish it were night that spanks me thus.

Politics

We dumpsterdive for canker sores and
settle on romantic evenings–
alone with stench.

Tape recording obliterated-esophagus rock,
our limbs dance without rhythm–
they don’t have eyes, and think no one sees them.

Clear tape holds our eyelids closed
but we can struggle to see a glimmering slit
enough to want to see things clearly.

Baleful pins and needling,
the numb feeling is normal without blood flow
and when it finally arrives, it’s cold.
We desperately try friction.

“what you do like fluid”

[quote from e’s mystery comment-poet]

the way a drip skulks in the faucet
sixty seconds or more before
–plink!–
slapping itself down on ceramic
an ice pick–or single jackhammer stroke

wear that dress, the ghost one
that flows around your legs when you walk
slit slipping loose those sexy stockings
stalking your legs across the ballroom floor
not covering so much as hovering

his paws show no sign of it
fur tufts stuck between toes don’t betray it
a mounting pressure behind those following eyes
seconds in air, he flies from couch to kitchen tiles
pouncing expert on the teasing toy

and finally, us together, webbed in blankets
arms sticky and slithering, covering cocoon-like bodies
in a passion of moistness, a smothering humidity
we drown ourselves intentionally
and come, up, gasping for air

Words are weak spoons.

A poem’s solitary passage of time,
reminding you–a depression–
You lock your eyelids and palms
grip tight so as not to fall in.
A river, a sea,
images and emotions
you swallow them and
heave at the end.
A sigh, a retch;
you are shipwrecked,
wasting away
on sands of a memory
not
         even
                  your own.

an agate spine

smooth stones lie under her skin
curving up the middle of her back
a serpentine shape, reptillian curve
closer to one shoulder blade than the other

a wicked sicle shape across her back
full of both harvesting and death
the metaphors of her spine send slithering shivers
clear into my own agate spindle

we are sepparated by hundreds of miles
away with family, I contemplate the supple
softnesses of her back’s skin, her spine’s cradle
the weary muscles where I long to give attention

it is a clear morning ambush, her snake
waiting for me in the grasses of memory
between those ripened blades, a softly
winding riverbed, lined with agate stones

untitled from Paul Celan

“O little root of a dream” –Paul Celan

its cellar is this thought
gold apple twilight
we are a basement in depravity
debasement in a praying city

morning is the freshest time
plum sticking fingers to lips
to thoughts too new
streaming from unconsciousness

a small man stands on shoulders
forked tongue, halo, acrobat,
mind fresh cement, mind fresh cemented
this line permanently etched

O poem I contemplate thee
fingers crossed behind prickly head
legs crossed, brows v-furrowed
slight frown set seriously

dream flower petal
‘loves me not’ as velvet
prophecy from a little death
feet clutching tightly to the earth

mindblurbian memory

quick trip on the zip ship
deep brain sunken treasure troves
old school, hard knocks style.
Marianna trenches of memory drudged
I’m a sea-farer, lost in ripples,
believe it or not.
surfs up, on a crystal-tip,
sea legs used to wooden planks
full up to “here” of fish tanks
swimming with skanks
washed up on an over-active imagination-bank
re-living my mistakes,
four paces to the west or east?
re-living my “dem’s ‘da breaks”
a case of the lonely shakes, beats,
running my fingers like mud rakes
through the forehead coral reef.

Decemberhead

The floorboards rotate propeller-like
spinning on spindles of doped-up drowsiness.
Ceilings lunge and walls cough up their darkness.

Living inside is like a deer on the highway
only our headlights are 60 watt halogen, and
we turn them on and off with the TV.
I’m a puppet getting felt, hand up my ass.
My head is December.

December, the coldest month.
Never mind mind-numbing February–
spring is too soon for its plastic ‘r’ to bite.
And January is warm with presents and new year’s kisses.
December is the witches tit,
wringing a lonely despair from the sponge of our emotions.
Plus, I’m always sick in December.

This year she has come too soon.
It’s like December reached back and bitch-slapped October,
saying “Get back you pushover! Even Halloween can’t save you now!”
And meanwhile my sinuses wrinkle into dried husks,
while simultaneously gushing thick sticky brain-melt.
And my head is a caged animal, throwing itself at the glass walls of my skull.
And my back and arms and stomachÂ… sore as December.

Crushed under a blanket of snow,
filled with the dread that only
the beginning of the end can bring.