Poetry
Paint photographs on her fingernails
So she would remember
So she could sell this moment
To the highest bidder
Her Tears
Speak to me of nothing but pleasure
For I have only had pain
Bring me to the soundless
Rantings of the sea
Trying to comfort us all
As we crawl to her breasts
And sink into her flesh
To speak of nothing but pleasure
Despite the pain
Bring me to where
We see nothing but each other.
We all
Want to pet the lions
And stare into the sun
But unfortunately
Remain chained to the counter as laborers
Particularly the overgrown boys
Who are blind and deaf.
Jivin'
Needs to be watched
Because its magic is its movement
Its shouting at the devil
Over the whispers of the fields
Drifting in the morning air
Desperately fighting
To breathe even once
Before evening comes.
The wild man romps in the attic
We feel his ritual
And the life that it gives
Over the three piece suits
Hairless bodies
And flat faces
Song
Unlocks his cage
If we dare.
Remembering
Home isn't
Streets twisting anew
Laundries and car washes
Humping what was virgin grass
A once baby city
Now plump with middle age
From the fountain of restaurants
A rouged hussy
With wide
Wagging hips