Sunday, May 11, 2014

your hand caresses violence
call it love, this anger
tempered steel weighs in palm
balanced like bitter brothers
blade and rape--blade and vengeance
righteous caress upon the soul
left hand, right hand
repeat the quest
this, I, for my sister
lay ye to rest
age

12
the kitchen: giant green metal boxes of lettuce, tomatoes, cucumbers, bananas, instant tea-rocks, coffee and cereal
behind the Safeway,
just like dad used to make
dad used to make me
stairwell of church
a bed of steps
"nearer my god to thee"
cast-offs
service, repentance, service
systems, rape systems

20
the restroom: a pair of polyester maternity pants blue, turned darker by hot itchy urine
the tub, a puddle of pacific tears
"no public restrooms"
god is in the children
cast-offs
service, confessions, service
systems, rape systems

30
god is in the schizophrenic

40
‎"If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor. If an elephant has its foot on the tail of a mouse and you say that you are neutral, the mouse will not appreciate your neutrality."
~ Desmond Tutu

coffee moist lips hesitantly approach the microphone
almost but not quite touching its protective metal mesh
feet and legs splay to find balance on either side of rigid chrome stand
there is a hidden curling and uncurling of toes
tightness radiates in a perverse infestation to kink the nape of the neck
clench the jaw
play "twitches" with the eyebrows
shoulders hunch and arms origami downward outward
and upward toward sheets of vellum
fingers tremble slightly balancing the weight cradled between thumbs and palms

it makes sense at this moment
to sit and listen to the sound of the Acela going to Boston and all points north
to order a double shot of espresso and fill in the Sunday crossword
to go watch the woman collecting aluminum cans on State Street
to not be here

a writer's prayer is heard over the twin black-faced speakers
a breath whispered for inner peace 
recalled for outward courage
it is time
to undress private thoughts in this exposed place

eyes, incestuously promiscuous, caress WORDS as each page turns
until finding the just the right
VISION
DREAM
NIGHTMARE
OBSESSION
MASTURBATION
FURTIVELY-SCRIBBLED-IN-THE-NIGHT-SELF-CREATION

to pour public over chain-smoked poet's tongue

listen

I would love a dull moment.

The kind focused on fishing a gnat from between translucent ice cubes melting into lemonade...

When the loudest cries are from seagulls over the Thames.

A dull moment, when cigarette ashes roll lazily over flower-potted dirt, ashes gently falling from an ignored butt, barely held between two damp fingers...

When the only argument is between two squirrels on a roof ledge.

A dull moment, when my toes escape shoe's confinement, rest on iron railing and spread like fans to shiver from spring breezes...

When the only fighting is between the cushion melded to my ass, my poor posture, and the laws of gravity sliding me off the garden chair.

I would love a dull moment.

The kind when pen marries paper and creates a river of words...

When the only pounding tattooed on my heart comes from the bass notes of Harleys on Eugene O'Neill Drive...

A moment when unanswerable questions are heard...

I would love a dull moment.


Friday, June 15, 2012

Friday, June 1, 2012

Written Test

Until today, I had forgotten the feel of a pencil
cramped in pinched origami grip
slick royal yellow paint
taste and bounce of vulcanized pink nub
lick and shudder from metallic bicuspid crimped ferrule
graphite, measured number two, but always number one
From today, do let me
uncork my writer's block
by al dente red cedar
released as smell and sound
with overzealous sharpening