Five Poems
“A Squeeze of the Hand”
boy gets into boy’s
pants
while breasts pushed to
the
center
rub through pants
swingset pole
nipples never satisfied
boys rip through zipper hole
schoolyard perfume
and sweaty neck
exposed ankle
legs spread in office
chair,
reclining
glimpse, stare
eye catching tongue
in
swelling
revelation
and tea-bag testicles
sensing peek down
loose shirt.
A squeeze of the hand.
milky globules
slide warm and sentimental.
Stop Writing to Jazz
Related self matrix modulation
The rapid pen sat capturing the tongue
Rinsing in mid-drought
The cannibal way you crave me
Why can't you walk slowly?
Why won't you sit down
And breathe with me?
Lay yourself down on the earth
No saxophone music
Stop writing to jazz
You car horn reptilicus
Fighting the flu
I badly wax sad
I'm a fraud and a red
Chinchillas run scared
And birds in the city
Get sucked into fans
We relate to
And hate to
Admit to
Ideas about living
Crawling in dirt
Statues of animals scattered in fields
In cities on roads
Reminding us here of our will to forget.
Sing Sweetly
Bereft and becleft
Besmirched and besmeared
My eyelets and baubles now burst from their bags
Move wicked and backwards
And thrust into me
My cowardice twitching
All balled up and retching
I made myself useful
I sat in the back
And you sipping tea
With your big-boned persona
Sing sweetly and tell me
You don't want to hear
My butt-load of worries
My hogshead of fears
I Require
I require savory stuffing,
hot brittle sandwiches,
succulent strudel,
and broiled baby animal.
I require wet-scented napkins
and cold-frosted silverware.
I require deep-fried hard candy,
squashed ham with loaf,
and one breathing head held against another,
warm like a baby's head,
nose whistling inhale.
Eating
I cleanse my palette,
uvula and glottis delightfully refreshed,
tongue rippling muscular and wet, segmented.
Cornucopia of razor blades,
each cactus swallow scream,
lip split to chin, secret teeth revealed!
I chew my palette,
grind it into paste and swish.
This drink of deception,
this sensory milkshake.
At table I spit into paper cup.
While napping, I rewind the day.
Such tainted visions!
What fiendish cud!
