Thursday, September 17, 2009

poem





















electric dreams, swimminginmilk


but is there a way out she asks i hand her a book. a condom. two quiet eyes that function as ears. i hand her tiramisu made with too much brandy. here are two tulip petals i say, when i am lostandaway rub them against your cheek and they will be my lips.

__because these histories of ours are too big to escape i am stuck with this being human.
i know just what you mean my love.

i wear the same thing as yesterday and wear my mother's belt too.

i push into her , eyes grow wide, soo much blue blurry, head tilts back and away, shh- go slow she says, a two-body fusion experiment. the physics of miracle. (this long boredom bastard haze of Brownian Motion i have slept in trains and died at parties cried on phones, look here: this small glitch escape i have found, yes!)
go slow she says, a two-body muscle pulsating slower,any slower it'd be geology and of course i remember: it is,

__because these bodies of ours are too small to escape i am stuck with this being human.
i know just what you mean my love.

(they show me photographs of their recent trip abroad. photo after photo red-eyed and sun-burnt and hair a mess clothes stained with dark brown dots of liquor trapped sweaty skinned and mouths wide yellow teeth in dark spaces (unbeknownst masochistic cocoons) with toxic lights people's tongues on each others' cheeks and lips the whole thing sticky as saliva zombies on a one-way-trip to monday next week,

sporadic daffodils, bulbs of yellow and miniature spring's hearts, in the grass as i walked home from the train station, tiny bodies in too vast histmemory, i was only 12, 15, 17, why do i always remember that colour?

its been washed too much this underwear is loose and my socks too dance around the bedroom, ((slept in trains and licked a stranger at the station bathroom the floor dirty, scratches on the cubicle door, (zombie) can smell my own skin admonish me

but there is a way out she tells me. thin beautiful girls walk and talk lost in each other's company and their delicate knees absorb me and their wrists, spring again, one blonde in particular passes me her hair follows like a shooting star,
__everywhere i look i find nothing but youth bubbling to the surface of,

lean into her, hips follow. a tree made of limbs and clavicles (i like it when you kiss there). still life with motionless creatures but there is untold dynamic in staring (just that) into someone's face lying atop them naked it's ok not to move, sshhh baby, just look and breathe with your eyes a minute,

((slept in trains and walked as an old man home; lay by the pool skinny and jaundiced, skin patched with rash and hair like a decaying hound, alone and lone loaned a library book and a friend's dreamscape to read the night by, and fell through the other side (the portal works fine but kicks you hard in the guts and bites to kill, but gets you from A to B,

woke up shaven and showered.
naked upon even more nakedness with clean sheets and she's still sleeping mumbling incoherently redemption songs.

but here is out.
tiny tulip petal, mistaken too often as another used(and now dried-up) teabag , strapless watch with the numbers all detached when i shake it the numbers fall around inside making tiny sounds like miracles clicking friday afternoon into place.

i wear my mother's belt. my best friend's watch.

out.
15 minutes 2 dates 1 long conversation with Ashley worth of anomaly or a couple years worth of magic strung together like pearls or good fortune no one looked under the vending machine to find by any other name is still the most wonderful version of today i've ever will ever know.

(portal works fine- has a delay sometimes misses your stop howls hatred at you the whole way you wish you'd taken the ride deaf but gets most of you from A to B,

(but is there a way out she asks.

instead i dream of cherry trees i've never seen. of a small room in Shanghai with a window it made no difference open or closed was soo dark. dusty cars huffing heat and tired Mexicans trying to get a gig for the day sweaty and scared standing in the Bank of America parking lot, these thin beautiful girls, summer dressed, long toes fit into sandals and sweaty leather creeping around their ankles (i spend an hour trying to find something on her body i've never kissed you're not going anywhere near there mister she yelps), so close my eyes and listen to German techno and British rock.

i wear out my own body. kill it into youth once again. surrounded in relics (in the pocket of a jacket i find a strand of long brown(red) hair, i must have known a marooned mermaid in a former life,

i promise to never wash that dream:

_________*___*___*

__(but is there a way out she asks.
_(portal works fine)

____.. everywhere i look i find nothing but youth

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

Dude, publish dis shit, you could make stupid bank (and all it entails)

a penny for the old guy said...

fool! i'm tryin.

kinda.

sometimes.