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dark and affected, his left side numb from stroke
he stumbles into my room with the smell of tequila

strong on his breath, it seeps from his skin under the
stained shirt he wears over his thick frame, another

night alone in the house with my good ol uncle joe
he stands in my room and demands that I get my

lazy ass up to face him like a man, like a real man
and even though I am four inches taller than he is

there is still something I am expected to prove
here in my own room, which he reminds me is in

his house which he pays for with his bus driver job
so I stand to face him like a man, like a real man

and apparently as a demonstration of his strength
he pushes me back against the wall as hard as he can

which is pretty damn hard, and I stumble and fall
just in time to miss the fist that crashes into the wall

above my head, sending down bits of plaster
like a dry snow falling in the middle of the desert

The lights dim as the cinema begins.
 
      She moves as a parade
      of jasmine and winter breath
      and I am the last dance of hornets losing stingers.
 
Lights, camera, action.
 
      She offers up
      a smile, an embrace
      All her defenses and nervous mysteries.
 
I devour these gifts,
 
      And suddenly I am trapped
      within her cage of arms,
      paralyzed, hungry.
 
The world becomes a teeming collection
of noises and intrusions,
invading our familiar coil.
 
      Somewhere,
      The sea level rises,
      A streetlight flickers and goes out, followed by another.
 
I join in their obvious worship,
lost in a wilderness tamed by her bitter smile;
her damning embrace;
the fall of her gentle rain.
 
      A turn of the head, wicked, satisfied,
      she opens her cage and releases me
      and disappears in a dizzying repose.
 
Jump cut. The camera follows her down the boulevard.
 
      Sirens.
 
            Footsteps grow quiet.
 
                  All that I am fades to black.

it is hard to say when the lie brings in the new day

when a little bit is too much and still not enough
and worse than nothing at all

when a mirror of distant voices and a blend of agonies
steal the truth from my breast and lie all the same, in time

it is hard to say where the line is drawn in the tall grass

when all I hear is the clicking of her falsetto heels
strumming the rhythm in a song of goodbyes,

click – click – click

it is all I can do to remain in an errand of mysterious smiles
when the grin is a lie, and the new day never comes

it is hard to say when empathy becomes mercy
and mercy grows numb

when there are no limits in a confinement of faint memories
that stroll through the grainy photograph of my sleepless nights

when dry heaves and an angry, bitter moon
are all that accompany me as she melts away

it is hard to say what images are painted between the black and the white

when all I read is the fiction written by an angry moment in time
for a dawn that promises never to come, and pays no attention to my lies

it is hard to say how the next act will play

when my voice is lost in feverish gasps of midnight air
that swallow the lie into a radiant dream of paralyzed goodbyes

it is hard to say what will become of this.

it is hard to say anything at all.

old leather seats, with velvet drapes and dirty windows
steady rhythm of the wheels as they struck the tracks
“attack… attack… attack…”
cigar exhaust hanging below the dim cabin light
and ashes in the aisle

Continue reading “Dead Man Train” »

Rubber woman
Leather brassiere
Blow her up slowly
and bring her here

  Continue reading “Rubber Woman” »