Sunday, March 02, 2008

Four Frames

there are four frames
where if you look carefully
the wheel spins without a hub
everything aligned perfectly
they way if you watch a wheel spin
and it goes fast enough
then you might actually think
that you are going backwards
there's four frames
where the balance and color and exposure
is so proper
it would make you cry
it would turn you to mush
there are four acts to it
enough to make anybody
want to become a painter
the pressure and proximity was so spot on
each finger was an airbrush
there are four days left
of my being near to you
and the crashing down is so complete
that i think i am already dead

Palmolive

you would tell me
that you believed in a thing called me
more then me itself
and i couldnt imagine anything bigger
so looking up over the sink
at all my dirty dirty dishes
seemed like a bigger task than both of us
and cleaning was just something i wouldnt do
you handing me broom and mop and sponge
and i refused to believe that water can clean a dish
you kept saying
that a little soap and elbow grease was ll it took
i didnt fucking believe
that anything
could soften these hands
while you did my dishes.

Saturday, February 16, 2008

Solid gold Exit seating

he wants to travel
in a solid gold jetliner
everytime he is in the duty free
he's looking for helmets parachutes and crash gear
he's chatting up the people next to him.
he's wondering how the thing stays up
under such tremendous pressure.
he sits. straps in. he prays for pilotless flight.

and then.
every two months
he looks at the warning on the door next to him.

if you are seated by an emergency exit
and do not feel you are equipped to perform
the exit row duties; please let a flight attendant know.

Tuesday, January 22, 2008

she's eating a very sad cake...

a broken heart forms a hard shell
tiny filaments of steel based concrete
that become a chrome blackened hand.
with shade.
a shaded hand.

a shaded hand reaches out and touches hair
but leaves invisible fingers
as hand on shoulder
as fingers in hair
as fingertips on face
in slow landsliding fashion
down each cheek
saying
reminding
thinking of clever quotes
but not too clever.

because the ones she has are already better.
they always were
he just wanted to touch her face
and say something clever

he could say he saw it a mile away
but whatever
invisible fingers
pull back hair and prop up chin
he hopes she deals
he wants
that she deals better
he hopes you feel better.
sweets.

Monday, November 05, 2007

Unmanageable

A chiseled face with tight lips
He looked at me
Then the carcass across from him
And said

That my nigga - is an unmanagable lifestyle
That my nigga - is a life out of control.

I couldn't really argue.
In protest it seemed
The carcass would raise up
Slap his tongue
And stammer a very primal stammer
Speaking to the reptile in us
His corduroy pants and matching rayon coat
Black and orange and soul glo purple
Posture like a broken gibbon
He was a portrait of disproportion
And imagine the assymetry of it all
Things are just more basic down there
They are all slithering here and there
Eating bugs and shooting and smoking
And zapping and eating bugs
A tiny blackbox
Which is actually red
With wiggly radar lines comin from it
At least in my mind

Another cat with a cane
I thought he was a lizard
Until he spoke up
And said solemnly
But as part of a well thought out routine
Yea that dope got him
He said
as he scratched his face
Imitating his junkie mannerisms

Meanwhile, the carcass twitched and threatened to stir.
He slapped his tongue twice
And nodded off to somewhere
Or nowhere

I spent the rest of my ride wondering
About the dark
Or maybe the bright
Hole that he had slithered away into
We has all slithered into
The discreetness
And the uncontrollable sense of decline
Of the always open subway tunnel.

Tuesday, August 14, 2007

define comfort

define comfort he says to her
draping a velvet leg over her shoulder
five legs keeping him there

and he could give a shit
about his lanky limb
she can have it he thinks

in the off event that it breaks off
and she weilds it as a weapon.
his shiny wings chirping at just the right frequency

and

one

two

presto



he is dreaming and she is lulled from brightlights
big city jive talkin slick and slims
to his private oasis
but a dream it is and a cavernous dining hall
becomes his proving ground
he has to make this thing sing
split her back and make the wings myself if i have to.

no problem he thinks and dreams



could it be the other way he imagined?
his wings tied and brittle.
our hero boards the fastest jet imaginable. cocks his hat.
check his rear view.
and sits there for ever and forever and ever.

Monday, July 30, 2007

Rubber shoes

You wear rubber shoes
But they don't protect you
Your feet won't fight for you
Only run
From fight to fight
Too weak to raise the knife hand
To weak to raise a shield
The daggers come right in
You and your opposite
Both unaware of the cuts
Sometimes you can lacerate
So quick
So slick
You don't even know
How deep
How hard
How fast
How sexy those cuts can be
How deep a pocket knife sized insult
Can go
Can seem
Can appear
I can defend
I can lacerate
I can deflect
I can reflect
I can be there for you

Jireh. ¤

Lobster claws

Hands in front of wrist
Scissors like lobster claws
The kid snips and snips
Piece by piece
The film he's cutting
Is all from the past
And opposite the truth
Like a sweet angel
Sitting across the subway car
From some homeless hopeful
Masturbating
at the thought of his past
I pray that the girl
Get my same lobster hands
And get him
Right at the source of his falsely
Hopeless masturbatory past.


So the kid dumps his negatives
In the circular file
And recites a line from
The. Butterfly effect
I don't need that stuff I know who I am

And his subtle flapping
Of his newfound but long constricted wings
Creates a movement
That becomes his own future
A hurricane that he recognizes
When he's old and done.
As the butterfly effect.
Jireh. ¤

Monday, July 16, 2007

A cavity to fill

So tiny and piercing
How that shit starts
Mid conversation
The tiny space under my
Exposed scalp
Begins a vigorous itching

I can deal
I can do this
No its not a condition
Or syndrome
Or some two
To three letter acronym
For a nasty habit
Or failure of the human condition

Push through
Listen harder
I can do this
Conversations usually don't
But can sometimes start themselves

And all I want is a parachute
So when I drop through this floor
At amazing speed
With little to no evasive margin
I can land safely
In the comfort of my own
Shitty little hustle
Running my brain back and forth
Over and over
Like a drill
Getting rid of my cavity creeps
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