All There Is
For Z.
Just another
fancy Nabokov Champion of
the underdog.
I create objects with
little or no
objective.
It’s a hard thing to love
a cold woman when
she don’t even have a
poem to give you
(give you
If that’s all there is, love is
fleeting– if that’s all there is. . .
(give me
a poem. Undo this beard
of five pound cinder block font
dripping from my chin.
Letters: Just a head heavy with language
which buckles at the neck like
some new
humanity.
Take it away from me.
Fake it till you make it but,
don’t break it on my chest plate.
He say he won’t lead me,
But that I’m still his street queen
named desire.
Tennessee Style. Wrap
me up in ribbons don’t forget to bow my
tongue.
Heaven is a precious thing.
Men.
A swan song, but perhaps too
far away for you. be charitable with those
chariot kisses, Lover.
Forever is a long time.
Did you ever once think of the horrible
mess to be made around these parts?
It’s obvious.
That is, I’m expected to fill this space with what
could happen– and I’m a simple walking example
of what can.
I bruise easy.
Look at these knees. And not just because
you touch me.
I feel myself grow older and also hear the feet upstairs.
Ours is a hot oven. Ours is a kitchen chair.
To me you look like an almost sunset I’m just not
ready for. Don’t get caught with your hand in the
Honey Pot, Sugar. You’ve been warned.
Don’t get hoodwinked out of the fine china.
Who needs the cow when the milk is free?
Who needs the cow?
Monkey see, monkey do reminds me too much
of home and
you can’t seem to keep your
hands to your pretty little self.
your Pretty Little Lips smile thank yous
in kisses on my neck. None of this means
anything unless you
stay for morning coffee.
You playing for keeps now, Bang Bang? n
I was never a tragedy to begin with. I just make
the headlines.
Believe you me, love is a simple fiction.
Believe you me, I’ve never loved at all.
(4/20/11), 8yrsl8r
©2011