you made the world a negative

you made the world a negative, a blur of
blackonwhite, a sea of dark hair washing
back-and-forthacrossthe white beaches of
kissable neck, the p-u-f-f of fragrant
trade winds leaking from part-ed lips,
the dull ache of t-h-r-o-b-b-i-n-g pulse
in the darkness /behind/ closed eyes,
the tingle of skin at the passing of
electric (+-) fingers (??why did you ever
insist that we get the film developed??)



i drive

i drive past yr house at night
down the crowded little street
& see yr lighted hall, yr open door
& wonder how i'd be
if i'd park my limousine
proceed upstairs
to open all my dreams
of you & i & sheets wound tight

i drive past yr house at night
with lines prepared & kisses memorized
i drive & drive around yr block
but never in yr life
a life i want to touch & spark
so i may too return to life
instead of driving zombie-like
afraid of my reflection in the dark



industrial woman

with hands as rough as worn-out
hacksaw blades the industrial woman
snatches up her time card and punches in

as she turns up the aisle
she turns into clark kent once
she's slipped on her safety glasses

bent brooding over her machine
she doesn't seem to see past the
sparks that set fire to the night

no one notices as she moves
toward the servomation coffee machine
(her coveralls conceal her curves)

man, if you don't see how i could love her
then you've never seen a spaniel force its
head beneath its broken master's trembling hands



animal comforts

i don't care
if you keep the bones
swept from the floor
of our den
i don't care
if the watch fires burn
until the moon
is on the wane
i need to snuggle
next to you
clutching your buffalo mane
i need those animal comforts
those animal comforts
that keep me sane


you needn't
wash
my dirty skins
crouching on a rock
at the river's edge
you can beat me on the head
with a bronto bone
erase spirit drawings
from the damp cave wall
as long as forever
you keep me warm
warm with your animal comforts
warm with your comforts
that keep me sane


you needn't patch
my loin cloth
or stitch up
my saber-toothed wound
you never need gut
wooly mammoths
or make me a necklace from stone
as long as you
cradle me gently
and erase the mad moon
from my eyes
with your comforts
those animal comforts
that keep me sane



you used to be

you used to be my (mystery) lady walking
a foot (at least) above the earth blinding
the world with a radiance that no mortal
eye could look -unblinking- at for long
(then you passed behind a patch of haze)

you used to be my darkling queen lurking
in the shadows of ignorance whenever i'd
try and translate feelings into comprehensible
vocabulary that left me shaking unaware of scorn
(now i shake my head and look away)

you used to be my heroine and every day with
you was another page from a glorious romance
i, the knight in (slightly tarnished) armor,
you, the lady of the soft white arm
(it was then that i noticed the needle marks)



THE LIGHT IN MY LADY'S EYE

I woke up late this morning
Black clouds concealed the sky
But I still dreamed of the night before
And the light in my lady's eye

I walked her home and held her
I thought that I surely would die
Until I lifted up her face
And saw the light in my lady's eye

I wandered home at midnight
The sky was black as a sigh
But my path was brightly lit
By the light in my lady's eye

I'd broken myself on another
I thought that my tears wouldn't dry
But that was before I had noticed
The light in my lady's eye



poet laureate

i can only write when i'm tortured
so, baby, be mean to me
who can work with the brain waves calm
i need them tossing and turning
caught in the throes
of an emotional storm
i need you to make me half crazy
so the ghost gods dance in my brain
conjuring shadows of yesterday
animating cartoons of pain
i need to feel your laughter
to raise the hackles of hate
i need your whispers
behind my back
to prolong this inner debate
so, baby, crank up the chin music
make me dance to the
tune of your tongue
twist the nerve ends in my neck
and you'll find it's not me
who gets hung
tingle my wits with your titter
roast me until i can't sweat
then after your snickers
have died from my mind
i'll be the new poet laureate


she was never

she was never
pretty
one-kid thin
but her love
was blue heat
& she stopped
to gawk
each time
a cloud
of butterflies
rose
from
the
sewer


one wisp of perfume,
and it all becomes so strange;
a face floods nostrils


a surgical blade,
your tongue slides in my ear
to dissect reason



GHOSTS OF A BROKEN HEART

They levitate before me
in the onxy gloom,
their silhouettes stitched
from renewed guilt.
Their laughter is sarcastic,
distant thunder.
They form an insane circle
of spiderweb love
until Christ smites them
with everlasting light.