- ever so much better
transfixed and holding the green and grey pacific
in his eyes squinting and drinking alone as crystal
honesty shimmers into one unencumbered
i surrender
- Goddess
once again
there is an ocean between us
i move into the evening
of this journey
our journey
once again
there is a warmth within me
i dance blind within
the mystery
your mystery
- butter knife
my heart beats
with the rhythm of suburbia
in modern time
somewhere a portrait of elvis hangs
arrow straight
above the milkshake machine
jupiter looms behind mars
dogs are humping
a pot hole is getting some attention
a boy in the back of a cinema is 10, 9, 8 seconds
from his first kiss
a transmission is shifting gears
somebody just pierced their lip
divorce, butane, volume
channels, reruns, reheated
macaroni
- faith in the thunder
the evergreens looked on
in awe and wonder
as the jet plane taxied out onto the runway.
nobody really knew why she was leaving,
but she was leaving.
the tanks were brimming
with enough fuel to take her far far away from here.
arctic landscapes awaited her approval
from the tiny window that glared now
with the reflection of a troubled but very beautiful face.
would she find what she was looking for?
does she know how much sugar they put in russian champagne?
she will at least be warm
beneath the mink
upon her shoulders.
there were many questions
but there was also certainty.
it was certain that the men she had touched would not soon forget her.
and while some men ran blades across faces, tied windsor knots
and waited to die,
others carried on in art deco basements in levi jeans
with belmonts tucked behind their ears.
but they all shared in the awe and the wonder,
along with the evergreens.
and then a voice reminded her that upon thirty thousand feet
she may wrap her lips around a glass of wine.
and her lipstick would be left upon the plastic rim
and her hair would be tied up or let down...
but that was not for me to know now.
for she was back on the jet set where she felt most at home,
like a bird in freedom's flight.
like an angel.
- prance
cats prance across pavement
then play it cool
rub up against rubber
then disappear
- prayer from echo park
marlboros and
from the crystal chalice
budweiser
and i haven't given up
on my dreams
nor my
dream girl
but humans are hard
to believe in
so tonight
i'm just a cheetah
- old fashion fly by
f 18's
she moans
facedown, topless
on nikki beach
they buzz & bank
hard in formation
she huffs that
damn french air force
-thinking in monaco
does she shave her legs in the evening in the bath tub in warm white light? does she make the music soft with the treble hissing - except there is no more hissing in this digital world. perhaps she does.
do you take your time with the blade you run across your face for you are a man and you must run a blade across your face from time to time? have you clean tools for such a ritual? is it even a ritual? and where goes the stubble that we send down the drains into rivers into oceans? does it become the whisker on the face of the tiger in the jungle when ocean becomes sky and sky becomes rain and that rain do fall in the jungle to reach the tiger tongue sweetly and softly? perhaps it does.
were the french the first to kiss with the mouth open? how can we know, for kissing must be as old as old dinosaur bones. did the dinosaurs not kiss each other and did they not slip the lizard tongue? how could you resist that raptor on raptor action and those french raptors with their cigarettes and squinty eyes.
so what do we do when there's nothing left to do except listen to remastered music and recline on low furniture close to the earth and the fire that burns in Her belly? can we, should we continue to evolve and grow as a species and live gracefully within the mystery and keep counting our blessings? do you believe in counting? i put my hand on my chest and feel my heart beating and still my heart is beating. this place is crazy.
- six on 16th
basement suite. damp carpet. the six o'clock news. potted ferns love shade and shadows. she showers. i made a salad. more from the middle east. more beer in the fridge. thank god. as the shampoo runs down her legs…
