Month: February 2011

here

When one fucks it’s surreptitious.

The green color.
The green color.
The dark green confabulation
The sky emerald sharp cutting
The green pretender
The escape, the slip.
The green rainbow semen.
The green sea of womanslime
The greenleeches in the pubic hair
The greenwater spewing out from the teeth
The human vein also green
Trafe!
The fuck + the fuck.

The bride jawbroken trapped
in the infirmary beauty was also the bride
of the altered poems. Where smut and someone miserable
is. The bride’s groom was a dungheap
swept away by delusions. The bride’s
nights unbearable. The groom
slunk often around and indulgently the bride
wailed also. Where also the bride was
a little poette.

“mad”ness comes from the lying asshole.
The cartoon cricket is mad at him.
the husband comes home late.
The cats Dante and Nemo are mad.
The apartment is mad.
The housewife is mad at you—
The door is barred.
The relationship is sunk, the veins and cells and organs
are mad.

is a monogamy and must
be a joke. May it
go up in flames.

a greater percentage of songs would be in 3/4 time

everyone would wear point-lace hot pants this spring

poets would be required to learn seven new words by heart per week and would weave them into their poems

winter would magically end today

some people would melt away into oblivion like wetted witches

the next leader of Egypt would be a bellydancer

the MTA would put grow-lights in all the stations and create underground horticultural displays with ingenious themes, but nobody would ever have allergies as a result

pixies would organize my bookshelves. and closets. or better yet the cats would do it, since they are home all day anyway

I would have a tidy little collection of beautiful Japanese umbrellas instead of these generic $5 ones I get at H & M

Obama would grow a spine

the entire military budget would go to feeding people organic vegetables and if there was any money left over it would go to various forms of beautification

men would look a lot more like women

prospect park would suddenly be visited by countless colorful and/or large exotic birds: quetzals, flamingoes, puffins, victoria crown pigeons, ostriches, anhingas, macaws, etc.

politicians and “lovers” would fucking stop lying

the legal workweek would be reduced to 20 hours, with no loss of pay

I would find (soon) a dear darling sweetheart about whom I was crazy and vice versa

of beautiful Lesley Poirier

There’s a Japanese expression “ki no doku” that for me rings truer than “deepest sympathies” or “condolences.” A rough literal transation: it’s poison to the soul.

Love to Auden and Rodney at this very rough time.