V

Les Boutons D'or

Vines grow up the impression of walls
stucco white and twinkling with beads of light
your eyes of stars and blackest sky kiss the night
the arc of time and the old house of dew alive
your lips reflecting the blossom of endless white bulbs
the trees have been here for hundreds of years
but you and I are here tonight an ocean and see away
from home     brush strokes paint the story of your smile
a memory of many pasts, the canvas over my heart

Hair for Dinner

over the oil thick pan
     the fingers curled distinct

the smell er stench or taste of anything human burning
     on the tongue re: on the nose
                                                    burning

pungent odor mix of pork oil olive & chive
          inedible          decidedly
alien & well strange

          wisps of thin dark heat
burnt garlic simmer
                                burnt tendrils of human     hair

my smoking remains
     split ends & tangled locks
blue orange flame

"Okay," She said.

we waited in line,
with all the other
suckers, we had different
reasons, but we waited,
they waited, all the same,
I tapped my foot,
another guy leaned forward,
leaned back,
then he got up there
and started talking to the
lady, he had mail,
gave his room number,
she left for maybe a minute,
some more people joining us
in line, she came back gave
the guy his mail, they
exchanged pleasantries,
he left, I moved up, looked
around the lobby, too many
old people, too many students,
I just wanted to use the grill,
finally,
I got my turn,
"I'd like to use the grill,"
she took it in,
fixed her glasses,
sighed,
this was a tough one,
this wasn't mail.
"no propane," she said.
"Oh,' I said.
"yeah," she said, "sorry."
"thanks," I said,
"I'll just cook upstairs."
"Okay," she said.

Prepared and Parcel

Good.
people eat.
snapping fat on
griddlekssssssh
internal organs
iron taste. bowels
urine. sweat. stench
of casing snap
oil clickclackclick
heavy air full air
thick on skin
wipe finger cross forehead
devoured medium rare
rare, blood seeps
on plate mixes gristle
fat tendon boils globs
breaks molds fills arteries
stomach mouth gut
glugglugblubglugglug
yellowed eyes dim
restaurant lights dim
hum of electric nothingness
hmmmmmmhmhmhmhmmmm
empty chairs fragrance of sopping
gravy, baking bread, steamed
vegatables, mixes in almost ready
almost done click of click
and hack

Dinner

House takes on
warmth of dinner
tip-toeing in from kitchen,
scent and oven beat against
rain streaked windows
of gray outside,
and who is God but a little girl
returned home from school?
In my joy-misery earthly reverie
uncontrolled I ask--
Where is my mother- who?
preparing dinner highways away
anyways, smile for her and dress up,
wait for steak (london broil), sweet potato,
brussel sprouts, bread, and wine--
A misfit refugee little family
settled down to eat
where cheers in clear glass
safe from hateful stars,
a red moon titan world

Springs

I hear they grow the lemons here
on trees (stretching/labored) tuned to
major star collision
burnt brown dwarf smile
on 20th and snaking green elevated
highway road cosmic belt going east-west (infinitely)
to ocean towns sleepy and Harrisburg squat buildings
peddling their boring roofs
out behind big Pennsylvania
evergreen constellations,
each sip draining more--

I've fifteen dollars and twenty-three cents worth of groceries
and a few odd blocks to walk
Broad Street at orange night
blessed blue by moony god
spring distance

The over-over pullover monster

I'm the little mouse
searching for those fallen crumbs,
knowingly searching
for those empty calorie-less crumbs,
kept up all night
by those stomach rumbling fallen crumbs,
pleading (between bites) for a daydream crumb
to greedily consume
never asking from where they have come,

It's messy and moist.
I fumbled with the banana bread left on the table, cooling.
I ate two slices with milk before bed.