Sunday, December 6, 2009


Sitting at my desk
It looks alluringly androgynous.
That pine tree less than two feet away
Resembles a mechanical doll sporting a garish ballet dress
Ready for the sailboat, ready for the finger hole. 

Assembled drones fill midday with
Marijuana and had sex, wee-hours and lunch on a uniform.
From one trash can to the other trash can,
I scurry like
Molars extracted out of the maple.

Praise be the host, praise be
The snow pimping down on tow-truck town.
Fatherless reaper paces up and down
My deck.
Black girls heal the brokenhearted.

This weird decade is ending, now is the time
To thin instantly.
Foreclosure. Paid programming. No back pain-
This microcosm is it, so why bother
Proving yourself with a straight razor.

Some bullets go past somebody's flesh.
Beasts and cattle and creeping things and flying birds
Stare blankly in recovery and awe.
Two aliens invade the same planet. 
They take me to the bay, put me on a blip.

The meat and wine has such cold insides.
I don't think much of immortals or pity.
The houses at night swallow a yellow beak
Just barely rubbing, then plunging all the way,
Like, hard.

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