not being quite like other people
I slither out of the apartment
clumsily
like a Paratodon
the dinosaur of the moment
into the hammered alloy
and the molded plastic
of the built world
oy vey – lights
of the twinkling city
on the curving planet
where jobs come and go
physical beauty fades
and markets rise and fall
as mealy as penises
in their greed canopy –
discursively, like brats
sung in a low
with flops and fumes
along a jaded mass
but unattacked and rubbed
against their fate –
they’re hip like cuneiform
down the greed tongue
out of the boring gum
into a glorious slump –
they’re bone.
.
midway through my life
for the second time
everything’s destabilized
it’s a given –
like hush money
to pornstars
sounds of subway moving
a luxurious concerto –
these head-bent strangers
swiping images of light
dismissively
hopefully
“I alone can fix this”
the little blond strongman
in the solar plexus
bouncing shrimp off trump, too
chameleon hatches bright turquoise
crawling, crawling
out of the egg
I didn’t do it I didn’t do it says the train
Sheherazade or Krishna
in brown spots on the door
and a bison-shaped wall smear…
What might it actually mean
to live my life
as I want to live it?
Pale strawberries pushing out of a voice
Pale strawberries
pushing out
a voice
.
This is the fancy street
next stop, fecund avenue
awash in electro-beats
studiedly, people amuse themselves
as they know how,
knocking back beverages
my foot swells up…like a foot
why y’all like MAYA so much
Friday night:
he walks a white borzoi
through the F train
She stops to stare
at the closet simulation
in the organization store
shoes with rivets
but no laces –
“relationship” such a cold word.
neutral dull palette
in a world where only looks
matter.
in the past,
beloveds came to me
so surely
with a kind of sleek magic –
a miniature dachshund
like a dik-dik
but metaphors
I guess
are easier than marriages
either way
two disparate things
forced together
.
why go out?
stay in!
away from head-bent strangers.
something’s masquerading
as an umeboshi
on the train floor
never again will I romanticize
our usual spots
in New York City
I sit alone
with pursed lips, aware
of my eccentricities
It’s foggy outside.
Dutifully, invisibly,
I do my kegels
My head –
so heavy
like a lavender mask
My head a lightbulb
radiating pink
lightning
.
Train stops in the tunnel
just after a drunk woman
has suddenly puked
a woman with a ponytail
and strong thighs eats
an egg sandwich
tech guy with black earbuds
clenches his backpack
between his shins
I call my past love
into my attention
and give him a baleful look
A woman holds her coffee cup, covered,
to her mouth, as if
she’s praying to it
A vulture stands next to a hat
People are super-strange birds
with necks.
The sidewalk grimaces
with its grids and teeth
I say by way of painful critique.
I sing a single word: “it”
Quavering a little
I’ll keep unmatching
until the lion’s mane
is gone.
Phlegm pools in lungs.
I’m tired of looking at men’s faces.
I see your handsome face dissolve
into a one-eyed puppet.
And the eyes are also on bananas–
are they the high masters of history
or something?
fish sauce smell on the back of my thumb
I’ll have a sharp lamb jerky – metallic squeak.
It’s sarcastic in a bulb –
his highness
in your spot kingdom
never endorse this president
in my culture
I feel offensive.
I’m having 35 minutes worth
of processing.
Spilled gravy on the label
I think GOD knows how to do it
It’s from the salmon man
in question –
the purse development fathers
Playing a rat game.
He died recently –
without VIKINGS –
properly
otherwise and chrysanthemum
Bye little kazoo,
that was on – the maximum?
It’s simple
The thing is, I was hungry
This is excellent in our dreaming.
In the situation with birds, no choice!
I’ve been writing words, consecutive words
with a cat thing:
it is happening.
I understand you are coming from an altitude
of words
I understand you are coming from the attitude
of words
on the egg hold
of this latin poison,
a warble of flood rainbows.
Otohime 