levi strauss & co.rnea

he slips into a pair
of her faded denim eyes
and she bats her big lashes
as the teeth of her
retina zipper come together
he tends to keep his hands
in her back pocket corneas
when he leans on his locker
to watch the pretty girls pass
a thousand washes
have left the frayed curvature
of her van gogh'd irisies
worn and perfectly distressed
she's his favourite pair
they're such a perfect fit

revlon

if you took each and every stroke
of the eyeliner that she's applied
and made it into a straight line
it would run from here to delaware
and i'd follow each step to the end
and when i finally got there
i would screw the brush
back into the bottle
and i'd patiently wait to collect
another decade of perfect application
until i could someday pave the way
back to chesapeake bay

heavy iron rails

we were on a train in the 1950's
i unzipped your skirt and watched it fall
you had on white stockings and garter belt
they stayed in place the entire time
there was a woman in our sleeper car
who watched us without speaking
your breasts pressed against the window
as i took you from behind
a glorious sheen of wet
met with your inner thighs
as the counrty side rolled past us
and we both moved together
in a rapturously, deadly rhythm
my hands were between your legs
and as i thrust, they lifted you
up off the ground ever so slightly
your toes wiggling
and reaching for footing
with each jolt
you turned your head
so that our tongues could reach
i traced the outline of your figure
along the cool window pane
we grew louder in our excitement
moonlight bouncing off our limbs
my tongue in your mouth
together we came in thunderous succession
we stood there for several minutes together
your feet still slightly suspended
above the train floor
i was still and hard inside of you
pulsating with the fill of our lungs
our tongues slowly rolling over each others
when we finally sat back down
the three of us lit a cigarette
and still no one spoke a word
you placed your head in my lap and sighed
the stranger lady tipped the brim of her big city hat
and went back to her book as we slowed
we giggled and fought for breath
the conductor called out "all aboard"
we were well on our way

traditional saudi ghutra

i am alone in a desert
on all fours
searching for an internet connection
passing by a bearded camel
then wiping its spit from my cheek with a dirty sleeve
wishing the mirage of her in a blue pool would quit it already
checking the time on a broken watch
burying a perfectly good apple
pouring out the last of my water
and filling the canteen with sand
i plugged into a lonely cactus
and googled the word "fucked"

it happened behind a shower curtain

she asked me to draw a bath
i told her i didn't much like them
she said it would be fun
and that we could shower tomorrow
if i sat in the bath with her today
so i turned the taps and let the water run
the pretty ones always get their way
i opened thirty or so little umbrellas
the kind meant for drinks
upside down i sailed them on the suface
and placed a raspberry in each one
she liked that
and i asked her if we could have a bath again tomorrow

no sir, away! a papaya war is on

sitting in my room
writing poetry
listening to the fan chat about the humidity
collecting tears in the floorboard basin
thinking dirty thoughts
typing palindromes
on my great grandfather's remington
"won't lovers revolt now?"
cut the page in half
fold it twice
mail it to her later
start a new page
say the word sculpt out loud
over and over
until it doesn't sound right
light a cigarette and suck
"i roamed under it as a tired, nude maori"
amazing
think of the shark on her foot
open the window all the way
flip through pornographic memories
sitting in my room
writing poetry

scrap metal autograghs

i'm scratching my head again
as i twirl a pencil in my mitts
like a freight train on a twisted track
coasting to its wreck
somewhere west of tennessee
perhaps in tulsa
by a ravine
come to think of it
i scratch my head a lot these days
like a symphony gone terribly wrong
all bells and whistles in fancy disarray
no strings anywhere
just an old woman playing a park bench
at dawn
signing scrap metal autographs
knee-deep in geraniums

hemingway was onto something

i'm leaving now for the fox & the are you fucking kidding me, of all the places in toronto fiddle

stupid is

ok
so i have to go meet some stupid girl
in some stupid bar
for all of three stupid minutes
before i decide that i made a stupid decision
spending two dollars and seventy-five stupid cents
to come to that conclusion

clumsy little wrenches

i wear it like fog
this shroud of madness
this veil of blanketing sad
gears stalled in my eternal clock
screeching to a halt with a deafening grind
i picture the little elves and their clumsy little wrenches
powered by white pharmacy coats (the management)
working away to align neurotransmitters
and cluster fuck signals stopped at a red light
tiny little subways bringing in the next shift
of tiny little fixer-uppers
to fix me up
just enough
the overtime must have retired taxpayers falling out their chairs

calling magnolia valley

i read david ryan's suicide handbook
swimming in a bathtub of wild flowers
so perfect and true and soft
told her to tell it to my heart someday
lonely girl, she wants to play hearts with this rag doll boy with broken eyes
and we'll make pretenders of them yet if it kills us
rolling famous eyes in jacksonville buses kissing the white line with spinning tires
touch, feel, and lose your limbs down a drainpipe
let's get all unpredictable like a firecracker
la cienga just smiles and it's on with the jeans, the jacket, and shirt
we'll stop at nothing for no one (long and sad goodbye)
dear chigaco, passed you by a couple of moons ago and lit a cigarette
swallow applause and bow to sad lady (mara lisa)
it's on to off broadway for tired acts who've lost their shiny instruments
she fumbled her footing in the cracks of a photograph
seated on a dirty curb, i'm waiting for a stranger's brokenhearted taxicab in the night
play me that familiar old tune and i'll cry on demand
my miss sunflower reaching for the painted yellow sky all the time
don't get all bent out of shape lonely delaware, 'cause we're just saying hi
spreading my california love to the colder parts
all the idiots rule the world
you don't know me like this record does

slow and steady

are those coattails under your feet?
no thanks,
i think i'll just walk.

adjectives

i took my pen
and covered you in words
like a sprawling canvas of silk
i wrote "insatiable"
on the small of your back
and you giggled and squirmed under the ink
i wrote "endearing" on your eyelid
and you begged to know
what you could feel but could not see
"perfect" rounded out the curve of your clavicle
i kissed each and every perfect little letter
then i wrote "mine" a few times
behind each of your thighs
in neat and tiny cursive
i penned "alarming" between two ribs
you jumped suddenly and and we both laughed
and together we smeared some of it
i wrote it again for good measure
but this time with less pressure
i fashioned "celestial" behind your ear
read it aloud in a terrible accent as i spelled it
you corrected me on the pronunciation
but i didn't mind, i loved the way you said it
i asked if you would say it again to me
and you rolled your tongue so perfectly
we fucked until the words were formatted
i thought of how i could never return to a typewriter
so we showered and started again
i took my pen
and covered you in words
like a sprawling canvas of silk
i wrote "insatiable"

one way street

what i want most
is someone who will stick
someone who will recognize a sincere apology
when she hears it
and at least considers it
someone who will offer up her own i'm sorry's
when it's her that slips
because falls are inevitable
and even if formalities prove to be too great
and the status of our relationship should change
what i want most
is someone who's only ever a long distance dial away
because what we both want most
is someone who will stick
no matter what
even if it's not a perfect fit

toby had a tv for a head

toby had a tv for a head
and a rusted spring for a neck
but he didn't let it get him down
he rode his purple bike all over town
in the morning, his dad would tune into the news
at lunchtime, his friends watched cartoons
in the evening, if there was a surge of snowy static
grandma would smack him and cry out "dammit!!!"
but when all their viewing needs were satisfied
he'd hop on his bike and ride and ride and ride