LIFE IN THE TRENCHES: Romance, Rebellion and Running Amok

MANTRA

crust upon crust.
the zed part of zero.
trouble.
zed.
zero.
nothing.
gone good now.
creatures alive for no one.
thank someone. 
crust upon crust. 

I WILL SAY THIS

i should have beat the ever
living fuck out of her when
she that said she was certain
she had killed it.

i think she needed this.
i was certain that i did.
but she didn’t get it.
neither did i.

maybe, i did.
maybe, i didn’t.

tonight,
i am able.

it’s a cold night
in new york city.

I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO CALL IT

Thinking about her.
Thinking about the hardware store.
Thinking about the last time I was here.
Thinking about the upper crust and how I
Congratulated the editor of allure for having a
Successful magazine.  I didn’t know it was she.
Thinking about the car-hop at the Waldorf Astoria
Winking at me telling me that it was my lucky day
Because he got me a car in front of all the rich people.
I was staying there in the towers.  The room was bigger
Than big.  Thinking about Maralyn Monroe.  Thinking
About the Virgin Mary in Little Italy.  Thinking about the
One’s and Two’s and scribbling in notebooks trying to use
A new language.  Thinking about the sad horses of central park.
Thinking about aero beds and back spasms.  Thinking about private
Conversations in public places.  Thinking about drinking in a bar at ten
A.M.  Thinking about my feet.  Thinking about how strange it was to think about
Them.  Thinking about feeling the earth for the first time through the sidewalk. 
Thinking about my dad carrying a bedspread with a bandage on his hand. 
Thinking about the rooftops.  Thinking about how I had turned some
Corner because the rooftops with little plants and Buddha’s on
Them were not the same to me.  Like the park bench.  Or a
Brown paper bag.  Or walking around in the cold with a my
Collars turned up and a cigarette dangling from my
Lips.  Thinking about being an actor.  Plagiarism.
Playing myself in public.  Thinking about
The three of them together fucking in
A big fluffy bed.  Thinking about taking
Pictures of my cock and sending them to
Someone on my cell phone.  Thinking about
Phone sex.  Hard ons in the airport.  Space and
Time ripping.  Blackmail.  Dreams about ice chips,
Fires, homes and a tactile sense of forever.  Thinking
About standing on the street in front of a convenience store
Loaded with gay porn.  Thinking about feeling safe.  Like
I reached the end of the sentence with a period in the form of her. 
Being safe.  Understood.  Loved.  Thinking about Don Quixote.  Thinking
About battering rams.  Misconceptions.  Thinking about airplanes.  Thinking
About peanut pie.  Thinking about ravens and little Anthony who slept beneath the
Flowers in the garden.  .  Thinking about an old lady with glitter on her face
Talking about bending a spoon with her mind.  Thinking about wearing long
John sleeves beneath my t-shirt.  Thinking about suits.  Style.  Later.  Tomorrow. 
Better.  Thinking about a stranger with a face like sunshine.  Thinking about smoke.
A baby bjorn full of cherry blow pops.  Thinking about how the book never ends.  The end keeps running away from home with blue suitcases full of nothing but pillows.  It never ends. 
The proclamations keep coming.  It just keeps going.  I keep feeling my heart beat in
My ears and when I breathe I feel nauseous.  This in not a bad thing nor a new thing.
But when this happens I know to pay attention.  It is and isn’t weird.  I keep
Getting tears in my eyes.  I keep swallowing them.  I keep feeling like
Right now, in this moment there is nothing wrong with me.  There
Has never been anything wrong with me.  There is no such thing
As aberration.  It just keeps going.  I feel my eyes flip
Backwards.  The air is vibrating.  I think about comfort. 
I think about truth.  I feel conviction.  I realize
That sometimes comfort is the antagonist. 
I know that truth is always the antagonist.
Some times is the antagonist.  I think about me. 
I’m always a factor.  I scribble this half thought on my arm
And have no idea if it has value.  I look around.  I want to snap a
Picture on my cell phone.  I make another note.  I put a pin in it.  I
Feel like this is an important moment.  I can’t quite articulate it.
I feel like something is sacred.  It keeps going.
It keeps going.  I scribble it down.  The
Subway intimidates me.  It never
Ends.

 

THE THING ABOUT THE LIFE OF A PEACH

it’s nice to have a home again. 
i’m thinking about
what it took to get here. 
i’m thinking about where
i’ve been. 

i haven’t done it alone. 

at this point it’s like being home
but not completely as i exercise good
judgment and think about karma
and other regulatory things. 

i wonder about what they meant when
they said, “family.”

there are beautiful creatures everywhere
and pages to burn everywhere.  then there
is your father with a red face 
and the entire world
on his shoulders. 

the one who made you
is worried about
the end.

the mice have betrayed him. 
they have grabbed their toes
and stained their lips with shit.
they are in a state of panic
and have perfect symmetry.

if i could i would. 

i saw a flyer today calling out
to the community to do a fundraiser
to save the stray animals. 

it said, “when times are tough
our animals suffer.”

for me it either about our animals
or they way our animals fuck like
animals and are hungry like animals
and need to eat like animals and
how nobody wants to white knuckle
their baby carriage while taking
a sunday stroll.   

nothing else matters for the
feral other than bringing the
peach home. 

the thing about the life of a peach
is at some point one realizes that
this life right here has become
the recreation.

inverted in some ways.
under thwarted in others.

shit fuck and the disco ball muse is dead. 
the pining is denied. 

again, i wonder what they meant when they
said, “family.”

the mornings are mine. 
the evenings are mine.

i refuse to deface your place of
business. 

i wish it was different and regress.

i wish you were here
with me now.  calm.
drunk as usual but
warm this time with
a glance that knows
that none of it
mattered. 

or

i will smoke here until
until ejected, replace
my sharpie with glasses,
light the fuse and thank
god for public transit,
environmentalists, the
ability to learn and
the internet.   

his red face was red. 
his blue suit was flashy and blue
and he told me that it was
time for him to come up
with a plan.   

he said, he should have done
it a long time ago but life
is full of surprises.

son, stay strong and follow
through. 

ok, pop.
it is sunday and i am soft. 

Hey captain:

Hey captain:

Hey captain.  Snap to it, captain.  Suck my cock, captain.  Fuel my glory, captain.  Feed me captain.  House me captain.  Poetry has no place in a heart that’s a whore, captain.  I could give two shits about you, captain.  Isn’t that right, captain.  You know i’m right captain.  You can cut the flowers but you can’t stop the spring, captain.  You are a cow, captain.  You have no imagination, captain.  Right now i’m in Cuba, captain.  Where are you, captain.  I’m drinking beer with black socks on, captain.  I’m on the highway again, captain.  I’m tripping balls again, captain.  I’ve got a trumpet, captain.  I’ve got you dead bang, captain.  I see a fat woman in purple with an asshole full of grapes, captain.  I’m not angry, captain.  I’m a paper plane, captain.  I am blessed with an imagination, captain.  A whore has no place but in the heart of a poet, captain.  I am a poet, captain.  But you knew that didn’t you, captain.  You are a coloring book, captain.  I am the bolt that fell from heaven, captain.  The minefield is blessed with grace, captain.  Konichiwa captain.  My shit smells like Bakersfield, captain.  Your shit smells like Kansas, captain.  We make a pretty couple don’t we captain.  Something’s burning in the goddamn oven, captain.  That young girl i saw in Italy way back then in that cathedral still makes me think dirty things, captain.  I’m thinking dirty things, captain.  That girl makes me think dirty things, captain.  Dirty things, captain.  I’m thinking dirty things, captain.  Captain oh captain.  I’m right there with you, captain.  Load me in the catapault, captain.  I’m invincible, captain.  Never forget it, captain.  I am alive of mind and hot of heart, captain.   Do you feel me, captain?  For me this is clarity.  For me this is bliss. But you knew that captain. For you are my captain, captain.  You knew that captain.  I’m right there with you captain.  Hold my hand, captain.  Let’s be men and see this taste of bliss through.