conversations with the bartender
A pitcher of your cocktail,
the lid straight to my mouth,
the juice engulfed on my
throat, human and limited,
will not be enough.
How does one calm the thirst,
to quell the squall?
of blood rushing through
inferior veins, gushing through
inferior arteries… only to find myself
grasping on the male dignity.
Of my hands to yours, and yours
to mine.
Cigarette-induced
sleep works; keep the flame burning;
hearts tear as lungs do.
A catterpillar
falls off a leaf; It ate too
much and now he’s…. splat!
Stray from Numerics
When the rain subsides,
halt the count of the raindrops.
You end up sweating, and you
are compelled to count more.
Change your thoughts: Smell,
rather than see. Surmount,
rather than count.
All facets of the rain vanish.
Only the dampness of the earth
maintains memory to its drought.
But nothing else. Nothing.
Just food for thought.
It must be unfair
to the petals of a rose.
That when she holds her so gently,
only the flower gets the credit
and the thorns a scornful skim.
Home from Germany
Knock, knock, knock,
another round of three,
the hammers go banging;
he can’t hear them.
Door’s unlocked, see.
A little creak, not heard,
drowned by the sentiments
of four measures’ notes.
You weren’t a pianist, but
with violin you were god.
And by that last slur,
you turned a crumpled page,
by the dog ear — “easy grip,”
you say; about time you heard
me, you say.
When your piano stopped,
the hammers started banging.
Lust stirring to spread,
not fire, but peanut butter,
on stiff, hairy legs.
Power Bottom
When nights are slow,
hands move fast,
jeans drop low,
three faces aghast.
When light reconciles with glass,
under stained sheets sprout legs
as troublesome, wandering grass.
One counts one-two-three, and begs—
“Where was I? What am I?
My ass hurts like fuck,
goodbye…”
—To the carvings
and the creases,
to the carvings
and the creases.
full but empty
While the moon is up,
like a giant penny,
I thought I missed you
knowing it’s a 50/50
you’re looking at her
the same way I am.
We love moons.
Only them,
not each other.
It’s cold, my love, but
I don’t feel like wearing clothes.
Your skin shall suffice.
