02 January, 2015

Crying Like an Idiot

Between them all
just an hour of rest
after twelve hours of drink
and all of life’s years.

Tradition starts to set in,
patterns overwhelm emotions
and memories are made
out of spilled water.

A green marble filled with
pink, folded souls caresses
dreary rain—
the souls see past, and future, and now.

A whole town is covered in tiny
shooting stars that attract joy,
repelling any attempt
at subtle Winter hues.

Songs are sung loudly, people punch.
They remember old lovers
as bottles are broken, blind
blonde strength dripping down.

The Queen of Cups
and the Princess of Wands
enamor a wayward cowboy,
poisons in all of their blood.

Families ache to express but
sit in silence, aiming to fill holes
left airing out to dry,
staring in space on a wall together.

The cards speak intentions
if the lovers can sit still long enough;
that dreary rain sends them back,
rumpled souls smoothed out.

Valid Love Affairs

Why not lick off my stains,
lost causes and socks
unsmoothing the skin.

Crayons melting like eggs
stuck in between bones
under the nails, mixed with
Lovers’ skin.

Expecting reciprocation
poisons valid love affairs.
The stains don’t do anyone harm.
Leave them.

Read the poem again!
it’s stuck between us and your breath
is under my nails and I can’t
remember now.

We searched for crabs once
with everything stained and stuck
not allowing us to look

Cha Cha Cha

One, two
Cha Cha Cha

Sleaze and sweat
decorate brows

Everyone is as lovely
as everyone

Sit and spin
Cha Cha Cha

Without those steps,
no rhythm

Loose intentions
Loose hips

Three, four
Cha Cha Cha

Smoke and song
fill young lungs

That’s exactly where
I want you

Spin once more
Cha Cha Cha

Everyone is almost as lovely
as you