Bag of Dicks

Face
Mine
No bags thrown

Did you throw a bag at me?

Did you just throw a bag
at me?

I felt the flop
Putrid, loose

dicks

I smelled the stain
days later
and wiped it clean
It was healthy

But the dicks lingered
They danced
I wiped again
and still their mutiny mocked me

Whipping, gelling, writhing
dicks

I refuse your leak
I reclaim my (face)
Pick up your bag of dicks

This is the triumph
This is the rebirth
As the scarab, so the phoenix
I soar above your bag
And leave you with this truth:

It’s not the harvest
It’s the sow

An Earth Open

Electric bags of flesh fall into Earth, afraid
They are worlds unto themselves
Each one
creating Death and Life
Blood and Bone

The Earth opens, not angry
She quakes her spine and gives great cyclone yawns
She thrashes her tsunami arms out to wake up
Blood and water are the same
She awakens and they fall in

Love and Music and Laughter and Shame
fall off the mountain into her
They are confused by it, and grieve
She has woken up, and buries the dead
Blankets of blood, pillows of bone

Tiny worlds continue walking the earth
Her indifference carries their morbid weight
They carry blood and water from zenith to desert
An Earth Open must readjust her posture, aloof,
to keep little worlds up as long as she can

Xiuhtecuhtli- Day 27

Bring us together
We rest in flames
hurtling through space

We rest beside you
though we will never embrace
You are the hearth of the world

You hear all our fables
and songs from our pasts
You melt secrets into the wood

We are brought together
hypnotized and violent
without any breaths left

And in the ashes you give us
we anoint ourselves
and mud is born, and life.

Your anger is resolute
Clean and mute
and you always keep all our secrets

Jorts- Day 26

Hips
like hula-hoops
Fire-headed female
dancing all alone

Grrrrrrl dos hips!
Luau punk rock hips
Let’s go to the hop
to dance

Wear those sweet shorts
and that sweet smile, Shewolf
Firelit and hungry
to howl and shimmy

Mexico- Day 21

Effortless lover
with balloons and rifles
I am seduced
Wet with blood
Sweating a smile
in the desert
I am your mirage

You, lover,
you revolt
without confidence
and you sing to me
sweetly
Accordions ache
outside sinking cathedrals

Will you love
like your Sun does?
Like the songs buried
under skulls that mute
all forgotten truths
Lover, in your Sun
we are all seduced

You are heavy and
so old
and I love you
We are all
covered in blood
spilt eons ago
that never dries

The Week before Finals- Day 19

Twas the week before Finals
and all through the week
The dishes and laundry
sat dirty and meek

The nights were all endless
the mornings a blur
The chain-smoking smells
masked by incense and Myrrh

No lives were at stake
nothing quite so severe
But possibly failing
was a palpable fear

The to-do list was mighty
friends and lovers ignored
The nightmare would end
All A’s the reward

She had to take breaks
every hour on the hour
Without them her head
would begin to get sour

And just when she thought
she would never survive
The essays were written
And her soul did revive

A Clumsy Poem about "One Hundred Years of Solitude": Day 18

Forgetting to remember
is sweet indeed
Untethered time
in a hammock
under an almond tree

Entire histories
swallowed whole by
their own forgotten truths
while butterflies and ants
eat ancient dust

The memories have no
capsule to sit in anymore
It’s always Monday and
the ants have always been there
salivating

Raven men get lost and
forget to return
The Seventeen are erased
Ashes wipe away their time
hidden away in mountains, far

Forgetting to remember
as the last train leaves with
all the books ever written
and all the stories ever told
Time finally has an end

When I Sing- Day 16

Whole note quite long
I want to sing until I stop breathing
I want to swallow splinters
So there is blood in my mouth
when I sing

So that everyone is spooked
and I look like consumption

I want to sing until no one is looking
and there is nothing between any person
and any other
I want to fill up the whole World
covered with splintered notes

Those Whole notes carry us all
There is nothing else but them

The Witches- Day 14

The witches come out
when the birds sing
back from the South

They dance in circles
The witches dance
atop a mountain, to Spring

The Spring eve casts spells
flowing from the mountain rains
as the witches dance

Every year it is the same
The witches retrace steps
for the birds to sing

They dance in the mountain rains
beating the earth
so it will grow

And after the dance
the mountain is bare
and the Witches are gone

The birds still call out
and the Spring moves
and the earth grows

A Letter in Poem Form Addressed to Spiderman- Day 13

Dear Peter
I mean,
sorry- I forgot.
Shhhhhhh
except for the fact
that everyone already knows!

Listen, Peter,
I’m sick and tired of you.
You’re not amazing.
I see you so much
and frankly,
it’s gotten dull.

I’m not that impressed
anymore.
And your responsibilities
and your power
don’t justify that suit.
I just find it odd now.

So please, Peter,
next time you feel
like swinging through,
I implore you to
Bug Off!
Sincerely yours.

Violets- Day 12

Can we not all be Rain?
Can we not wash each other
and dance so there is peace?

Bombs we stick to our ribs
blow all to pieces and
hearts remain beating, leftover.

The violets are purple.
They are shocking.
The Violets are purple bombs.

I will wash myself completely
if there is no way to detonate and
there is always the ability to dance.

they are full of blood- Day 11

And the blood stains
and I remember
that there is blood in me

And the monsters we are
bleed and laugh generously
assuming we have a place

There are children
They are full of blood
they are full of all blood

We sit on rocks
and look at air and the Sun
And the Sun bleeds too

We should be
all that we are not
We should be all of ourselves

The blood fills up spaces
between the rocks
And we watch it fade

That Haiku About Karaoke

I have no stage fright
Roy and doo-wop fixed all that
staring at light-bulbs

Tlaloc- Day 9

Wash us clean, o
great Rain!
Let the light pour
from your daggers
Blood from the cosmos
as we are born again
Every day

Make us green
to shake off the greys
Help life stretch
forward and upward
Kill death
with your death
Above us

Today we feast
on your violence
Covering space
in the constant sound
Washing in your
sacrifice, we rejoice
Tlaloc hears

Wash me clean, o
great Rain!
Let me soak in
your indifference
The cold cosmic blood
bonds with mine
We are one

Little Boy- Day 8

Inside your face
is my face
and his face

Inside your eyes
are your fears
and your discoveries

Inside your bones
is your future
and your past

Inside your voice
is your truth
and our correspondence

Inside your mouth
are your injustices
and your laughs

Inside your head
is your magic
and your dreams

Inside your heart
are your demons
and your loves

Heist- Day 7

Saccharine rubber disguises
cover with sweat,
clown-faced

The excitement glows
It is hidden in flower boxes
ready to threaten

Synchronizing time
in dull dusty suits
for the most perfect moment

Darkly-lit scenes present
players huddled with
blueprints for ambition

Some will fall short
Their disguises not slick enough
against the infection of fear

Thickened, sweaty plots
cover all possibilities
save the Fates

Old-fashioned egos
repeat the same tales
told to children at night

Them versus we
at the bank or horsetrack,
the plot is lost

The blonde fatale
Mucks up the trick
but they are all monsters

Irony fans out the score
and the egos are left sweaty
and the scene ends

No one is free
No disguise is sweet enough
The clown mask mocks

The Puddle- Day 6

And in that stillness
and in that light
there are countless worlds
of potential

Requirements are
specific to each world
but they puddle together
and rest there

And in that magic stillness
dreams are had
molecules bond
there are no words

The dark shifts forward
each world loses itself
all puddled together
resting in still

Cold Beach- Day 5

I dreamt of the beach
and Coronas we bought on the way there
warm from the car.
We drank salt from the sky

We were shouting about
the cooler and where everything went
and they all ran into the water
without helping

I dreamt of the cold beach
I didn’t want to go in
I wanted to build a castle
and drink warm beer

The Sun was a grey one
and it's always exotic
even when the Sun is grey
and the waves are cold

I dreamt of the beach
and then mostly it was quiet
and the beer was gone
and we stopped shouting

The Boat- Day 4

Winds face forward
and backward
and the night is young
and we are all
sailors on boats
lost at sea, aged

The Sun is different
every day
and the night is young
and we get dizzy
and sometimes dry
from all the light

The boat sways
forward and back
and it has space
and it has a tent
shared or deserted
the tent is there

Nighttime guards
against daydreams
and time stops
and dreams drop
and the tent
keeps the space

A Poem Describing Spring- Day 3

What’s your biggest fear

Everyone at the park today was fat
unable to run
The city is filled with trash and I

I want you to take me seriously

I realize that

The park had all this fat trash
from Winter
Sometimes people get scared

From knowing each other

Tugboat- Day 2

I don’t want to see
what your memories look like

We sat and sang
and those poems against the window

They sounded like an opera
The window on a tugboat we ate in

I sit and sing
and write down the poems

I sit and you sing
We end up singing against the window

Maybe, if I see yours
but I don’t want to

in Summer- Day 1

How many of her did you meet?
Organ music plays when she walks,
you know that right?

I think all the truly sad songs are about
meeting her.

How many of her can you love?
She spills out of herself,
laughing and wondering.

When you talk, it’s about summertime.

How many of her can you have?
And how would you have her?
You both laugh, in Summer.

Sometimes there are so many of her.

How many of her will you see?
She is perpendicular, and
at night, she glows.

At night, it’s easier to dance.