Monday, July 20, 2009

A Preference for Minor Chords: A Memoir

Oh look! The sunset is just beginning.
It smells like bells and sirens.
The side of beef is swinging in his eyes.
We used to call this dance the Rococo Mushroom.
My God, he has fleas.
Quick, what color is the devil’s red apple?
Think about the consequence.
I would like to dedicate this song to all the truckers out there.
Monday, nothing. Tuesday, nothing. Etc.
You’re holding him too close to the light.
Cinderella. Umbrella. A preference for minor chords.
Let’s get some hot dogs before the game.
My hand hurts. His hand hurts.
Kiss me in the shadow of the antacid-pink clouds.
The dog means a lot to him.
He had faith in the persistence of memory.
I’m talking dollars and cents here.
The signal light is busted.
How do you imagine all that newsprint on his penis?
I become enchanted with things.
Oh look! He’s throwing up his hot dogs.
Four words: wind; rain; sky; wallet.
Scratch that, bone.
Are those sirens? Or is that just the radio?
He must gulp the blue water from the skeleton’s glass.
A note. Two more. Etc.
Whatever happened to the music anyway?
His nose has a real flair.
There are no secrets other than the few thousand which keep
          the body trapped inside itself.
Look to the past.
Sometimes a pebble is a better mirror than a stone.
I saw him sleeping on a bed of garlic.
“Sparrows mostly.”
There was always the tendency to wonder, And then?
Nothing.
Call it obsessive if you like. The outcome will be the same.

Sunday, July 19, 2009

Clitoral Sonnet

Plural forms of "clitoris" were passe as a verse form
"the maiden's organ" witness'd be to all the woods and plain
by the swans a female bodybuilder playing with enlarged
How to ride a horse · When the Sun Rises · Oranges & Lemons ·

Using Pavlovian Theory to Think outside the vagina
a clitoral orgasm with . . . the marriage of true minds
. . . and the gulf between . . . "Moonlight" for my clit
the beloved young man is figured as "beauty's rose."

no woman is described in the sonnets as being on top—
coat of hair surrounding it, the single (bell) on its edge—
no vibrators melons dildos jugs or flower imagery
referring to clitoral rather than phallic jouissance

The structure of for instance—the small i, the clitoris—
come to the rescue as usual, with a consonant-heavy sonnet

Wait There

The splay of plastic wrap
a moist concentric
seared being

Anything can ice
up to an hour
encircled

inside both sides
a heart beats
while

flesh is flesh
wishes
but that rock

dreaming at the wheel
endurable dark
distance

ellipsis
eclipses
mouth-open sun

Preferences
you can't
bed

blanched array
dust-stiffened paths
under the bright antique

miles
in a hum
gathering thunder

Saturday, July 18, 2009

Dark Trees Nipples (The Poem)

Pinkish cream to lighten dark lips, nipples
I didn't know what I wanted done
as we drove down the dark road lined with trees and cows
the back roads to another small town
Lemon Myrtle tree

first child. of one breast,

Tall and blonde sometime brunette, my itchy beauty
and dark sense of ...

Under a tree in the middle of the woods

large dark chinese nipple {small a cup tiny breast.jpg}
referred to as "guitar nipple"

Tattoos, clothes. The fruit is dark green and round
with a distinct nipple on the stem end.
It has a thick rind

ducts widen beneath the dark area surrounding the nipple
forming milk sinuses (the tree trunk)
which then empty into the
middle of the woods beyond the meadow over the thick lush
growth rate. Elm, Allee. Ulmus parvifolia

These are the trees that make it
look like it
is snowing around here right now

Aphrodite gave it
the Persians burned it
on the nipples

raw coconut oil is also helpful

after sacking the dark veil of
slug-like, dark
curious of a tree

limbs (Plate 69) that are encrusted with dark scale coverings

wet carlight moonless night
fine tip flairs
refracted silence thread
the dark, dark trees nipples