Sunday, June 21, 2009

lost poem

i see one arm rolling up the carpet and the other is brushing a taxi man's teeth.
the signals are crossed and the head falters.
"bring it in for a bath", someone suggests. let it settle down,
it's spinning like a top and i mean, it's trimming hedges, it could take a finger from you.
this dangerous thing has me all tied up, and then i notice a redheaded vulture
with no moral compass gambling with your last wheezing cloud of talcum powder,
hastily, and without remorse as if he meant to lose.
but how did he happen upon it in the first place?
you were saving that one. or I was anyway.

Saturday, June 6, 2009

air freshener

sunburnt banana peels
and cigarettes make
my car smell
like banana bread
and cigarettes

Tuesday, June 2, 2009

the curl

i was reading a story
when my book melted like
wax over my hands.
suddenly, a deep heat seized me.
i stepped out of bed and
my feet sank into the carpet,
now a swamp of hot fudge.
the bureau yawned, it's drooping drawer,
sagging wads of socks
like marshmallow teeth.
the radio, looking like a licorice brick,
went wonky, bending songs into soup.
sour sweat soaked my shirt.
overhead, the ceiling got drips
that dipped into the room like gobs of honey.
i watched the cat cook down
into an orange and white paste,
until he was just a creamy
smudge in the muck.
my own body curled and squirmed like putty
and then i turned to face the bed
just in time to see
the whole thing blink
like a sleepy whale's
giant eye.

DREAM OF DRIPPING PAINT

I coughed up some jelly
spit in the trash
and everything
washes out
like an overflowed dishwasher

we bubble and slide
through checkpoints
turnstiles
border crossings

my crossing guard
hobbles beside me
wearing a dreamy yellow smile
in my dream
of dripping paint

GOINGS ON ABOUT TOWN

a vandalized bank weeps
for a rash of crime

the madman is a thirty year old
gumball machine

a storm rolls in and
the gumball machine
is shattered by a violent wind
which collects the candy
in a cyclone
and makes a rainbow

an artist goes to work
with the glass
to record the rainbow
which hurts an old man
to see

the old man has a clipboard
and a petition against pain

a seagull signs white shit

the artist cuts himself
on the rainbow
and bleeds out
into the creek

the old man
is saved
from his body

a giant fisherman in a yellow slicker
drags his net through town and comes up
with some good meat
for a story