Tuesday, April 20, 2010

it's all fine
just wash it in reverb
run it through the pedals
hey man it's all fine
you are here
to hear my droning

benn let's make
horror films
i'll play the rat sister
you do make childhood
sound so lovely

i'll bet the scalpel
was your favorite
pulling back that deadskin
to see the organs
glisten under the fluorescent lamp

nothing gleams like
the red firepump
in the basement
as the one bulb swings
and swings above it

the glissandos make
all the notes bleed
and purr it brushes your cheek
like a summer mosquito
it barely permeates the
membrane it wants to

she was lying in the reeds
for days they said
all chewed to pieces
oh the violence we do
i move inside you you squirm
i think we're not dreaming

Wednesday, April 14, 2010

There he was
Old Bull Lee
played a game
of William Tell
shot his wife
through the skull

That day he
became a writer

Monday, April 12, 2010

who's to say what is good?
I know
that I know

because of the way
your softhands so
rise and fall
I am lost in between
the 2nd and 3rd knuckle
because you wear every
curve like a red
wedding dress

life's canyonings
make me whoop and holler
and kerraw
like I have been
falling since birth

it is a good thing
to fall so deeply
into the bowels of the earth
because the sky never changes
and clouds smokemasks
wispy liars
but the fires
of the twisted smythe
light up the reveries and
warm my dry bones

I hold with the bacchantes
I would rip off every limb
for your music
so so so i have found
a way closer to god
should i tell you?

this is a poetry of secrets

sing sandpaper songs
keep the folks awake
the iron's hot you know

your beauty is ascetic
like the rusty old warship in the harbor

i don't wanna go
to sleep i don't wanna

sing hymns until
your neck tips back exposes
your gullet and snakes
come out and confetti

jesus cristo
i said i would
take you right here on the doorstep
it sells news
papers doll

sing softly and gasp
i promise to look
you in the eyes always
don't choke

Sunday, April 11, 2010

To Our Posterity

To Posterity

trans. by H. R. Hays


Indeed I live in the dark ages!
A guileless word is an absurdity. A smooth forehead betokens
A hard heart. He who laughs
Has not yet heard
The terrible tidings.

Ah, what an age it is
When to speak of trees is almost a crime
For it is a kind of silence about injustice!
And he who walks calmly across the street,
Is he not out of reach of his friends
In trouble?

It is true: I earn my living
But, believe me, it is only an accident.
Nothing that I do entitles me to eat my fill.
By chance I was spared. (If my luck leaves me
I am lost.)

They tell me: eat and drink. Be glad you have it!
But how can I eat and drink
When my food is snatched from the hungry
And my glass of water belongs to the thirsty?
And yet I eat and drink.

I would gladly be wise.
The old books tell us what wisdom is:
Avoid the strife of the world
Live out your little time
Fearing no one
Using no violence
Returning good for evil --
Not fulfillment of desire but forgetfulness
Passes for wisdom.
I can do none of this:
Indeed I live in the dark ages!


I came to the cities in a time of disorder
When hunger ruled.
I came among men in a time of uprising
And I revolted with them.
So the time passed away
Which on earth was given me.

I ate my food between massacres.
The shadow of murder lay upon my sleep.
And when I loved, I loved with indifference.
I looked upon nature with impatience.
So the time passed away
Which on earth was given me.

In my time streets led to the quicksand.
Speech betrayed me to the slaughterer.
There was little I could do. But without me
The rulers would have been more secure. This was my hope.
So the time passed away
Which on earth was given me.


You, who shall emerge from the flood
In which we are sinking,
Think --
When you speak of our weaknesses,
Also of the dark time
That brought them forth.

For we went,changing our country more often than our shoes.
In the class war, despairing
When there was only injustice and no resistance.

For we knew only too well:
Even the hatred of squalor
Makes the brow grow stern.
Even anger against injustice
Makes the voice grow harsh. Alas, we
Who wished to lay the foundations of kindness
Could not ourselves be kind.

But you, when at last it comes to pass
That man can help his fellow man,
Do no judge us
Too harshly.

-Bertolt Brecht

Friday, April 9, 2010

i like my body when it is with your
body. It is so quite new a thing.
Muscles better and nerves more.
i like your body. i like what it does,
i like its hows. i like to feel the spine
of your body and its bones, and the trembling
-firm-smooth ness and which i will
again and again and again
kiss, i like kissing this and that of you,
i like, slowly stroking the, shocking fuzz
of your electric furr, and what-is-it comes
over parting flesh....And eyes big love-crumbs,

and possibly i like the thrill

of under me you so quite new

-ee cummings

Wednesday, April 7, 2010

ten cents
lift up your skirt
i'll make love to
you artlessly

i don't believe
i do understand
i'm just popping off
roman candles ma
burn a hole
in your trousers
what's inside?

let's play word games
until there is an accident
someone puts out
an eye
putts it down
the astroturf

there's a pie in the oven
boys in
bury the hatchet
under the porch
my toothless friend

he comes with his
vacuum BEEP
he finds the first coin
buys a better

micky don't you know
it's all nonsense anyway

love is just
small soft cookies in a plastic box
ten cents

Monday, April 5, 2010

make I statements as
you pass the talking stick
circles have been so important

charles' vroom vroom
manic cacophony
and kim's bashful
dalliance she dances
with the board shorts
spectres of the apocrypha

and for me is only
the hot breath of
the living
i do not touch
the hot plate at
the diner i was
told not to oh
and i'm such a good
boy don't you think?

I feel that you are not listening
I think there is something else you are trying to say
I want to gouge out your eyes
and ladle soup from their sockets
a nice lobster bisque