New Poems

Mid-Poem

In the winter alley’s crystal darkness I wept

Listening to a song about American drug death,

My reserves uncoiling.

I backed myself against brick

While she played billiards in extreme unknowing.

The night pooled onward, this

Christian dimness ripe with unusual eviscerations.

I wish I knew her better. 

Oh for a local Noc list, open the door. She can’t

Compare to what I had found installed in her room

When she wasn’t there.

And furthermore.

And I staggered into an engagement with Cinema

Wanting to share what I had discovered with her.

She touched me appropriately on the arm and

Tried convincing me that all would be psychologically

Decent.

What was the secret of sunlight? We

Wouldn’t know in the back what we hoped to

Conquer. I returned to the bar/arcade. And

My face had been concealed by tribes of snow.

She wrote too, but not as much. Did she like living?

We blasted away at the previous together while I

Made payments to forgetting. Tim had a talk with

His woman that she’d heard thanks to me. She listened.

I asked her to listen. And listening she heard the aura.

Communicating through typed words found she

Couldn’t be accessed in that way.

Bastards buried in the unofficial snow. She was passed around

And hugged. She drank with us and obliterated feeling.

With her I became pictures. And we bunched ourselves

Together as friends if friends we were. She laughed mid-wave,

Her colorfully stocking’d thigh pushed out like euphoria’s island.

Would reading the same things she’d read broach a kind of

Alternative kiss, sidelining what she’d told me with friendly fire?    

I would never find out. Oh I must have been solved.

Happiness pulped

To a time-honored standstill. And we spoke more, and had shared

Interests though we could never be together, yet that was not

The reason I left. It would be maybe, in our future. Consequences

Dribbled and draped over the her she was becoming for me. Out of

The blue then, I walked up alongside her. And I elected to speak.  

---

Hosannas

Wet flesh,

A fire on your privacy

Kicked up one shiv

And globes were fallen and sucked.

Evil music bathed us

On top of you where I had moved.

The you I needed wanted me back

But you were the wrong you. So I

Moved to Abilene.

Grab them there, and collect.

---

Ample Problems

I am a film critic.

You didn’t know there were

Different ways of approaching

The art. We together make

Your experience brighter.

We hate each other and I stand alone.

So many films, how can they be

Reviewed in a timely manner befitting

Their heedless rush out the door? I love

The bad ones. They need me and I

Don’t know what to do with them except

Praise their dented incongruities.

I chase you at the movies.

Walking down 2^nd Avenue I brushed

Sandpaper out of my eyes and stood

In truth at the corner of Store and Store. There

Were no interlopers at the spots where I tried to think

And while I didn’t know a soul I

Made it easier for myself to stroll after idle gardens.

When it becomes clear I’ll know. We checked with them.

Certainly the ottoman was becoming unstitched, and yet—

Yet—I forewarned you about stalling. It was a bad note.

We the jury find the defendant sexy.

And we thought there was a possible

Exposure in that. What I found were more movies than you would

  think

There were in the bucket. Tons. And I took them,

Absorbed, into my neon chest. Where they thrive to this day.  

There at the bottom

Lurks a problem even Griffith

Couldn’t solve with his awe

And power.

---

Supreme St.

If I could stop writing about this person

I’d make the effort. Lord knows they would appreciate

It. And my only reader wouldn’t mind. But alas

I opened my freezer yesterday to find an entire boy

Waiting to be dusted off and presented, he blinked

And the plan was to set him free when The Group felt like bending.

Could be a glen of sentences, all covering Pop Music. You

Really must try them. The fashionably overheard were right

There like a jar of pickles splintered and not presentable. You

Couldn’t just let it breathe could you, well I can, and did.

He kept writing to me asking about her health, and I lied

To him, yes, but only to protect a love I thought was prominent

But turned out to be counterfeit moonbeams.

So much of my life is oneiric and tinted.  

Oh Jonesy, did you survive? I can’t hold in rubber blood forever.

One day this will all be annotated, and you’ll understand.

However on the carriage ride it was his idea to kiss. And with

The train I thought about getting off two stops before my

Obvious departure space. Wouldn’t that be winsome. A

Saga of warmth eluded me, which is exactly why the confession

Lacked merit. There’s this problem I have now where I can’t do

The assigned readings but I can read all the rest of the sun’s

Offerings. Shoot me. Render it complete in its mystery.

Can you untangle her tingle? I stole that. Forgiveness is an

Entity this nation cannot get back, except though extradition. While

Her gams were perfect, there was something inappropriate about her Refusal to share them with the named monsters of the deep. Surrendering a grain of babble was out of the question. Stop. I could

Find a corrective. I wanted to press myself against you but instead Located your college boyfriend and tortured your favorite joke out of Him. I was in Paris when I unexpectedly dropped the ransom, which

Was 500 milligrams of shredded come. Keep following me if you like.

I got a text from her saying she was hyper busy

And even her closest

Friends didn’t know where she was, it was final, I wasn’t in the

Mood to respond but still I did because I’m like that, a “nice” guy,

Though really this didn’t take, she was out of control but free, too, and

Enthusiasms coalesced and swallowed logic, which painted reanimated

Flowers like they were Emmanuel. Everyone made pictures in 2005. His Poetry

Was late to the party though.

Took me fifty plays to see the song’s beauty, and agog I tried

To sleep in but breakfast beckoned and I ate wishing I was eating

With the creator of Blue Afternoon but I was a couple decades too late.

In America, the city remained unpublished. We have a funny Relationship, the girl and I, she explores and I can’t shut up. Understanding is important in alliances, sure, but what if obsession

Trumps blindness? What it means is I’m in love with a delusion. Of Course. I think really the problem was she had three first names, and

That was why she fucked him and left him for one of those Silicon

Valley poindexters and he only stopped coming to me about the trauma one year 

  later.

I should buy a house by the river. Worked for him. We could use Telescopes to watch each other sleep there, and while beauty fades

The auditorium still separates us by years and I had been blocked

Yet thankfully it was reversed. The other one guessed at a porn site

And I’m lucky I escaped with my balls. That family was weird.

  

While on Supreme Street it was required by law that you walked around

On stilts. Never could get accustomed. Damn things were bait for cats. On the other hand she wore black masks that should have been mistaken for a death aesthetic. I swear she looked like a phantom right out of a Feuillade serial. We have

To have sex like yesterday.