Friday, February 22, 2008

more poems for your mouth


Hello again, faithful readers. I'm here to give you some more untitled poems. Meet me in the Opera House with Olivia Tremor if your willing. Control me, if you can (music reference; track it down, Green Typewriters).
p.s. the first poem is the latest untitled I've written


untitled 4030

if I lay down in the road to

count

feathers from birds

from

the midnight song

I should

be so lucky, says

C

to his father

as

they ride down a country lane

in

the mid-heat of fading

September

America.

I should think you’re smarter than that,

my

boy,

son o mine,

left lingering among the skiff plough

mud

drying upon the face

of the river




untitled 3601


school is for the officers who drive

through red lights

with the sirens on

for no

apparent reason.

and, yeah

, yeah, oh

yeah,

school is for aging rock and rollers

who just can’t

get laid anymore.

maybe, and

maybe,

school is for porno losers

with old age

and extended members.

it isn’t for me,

but I sit

in halls

and under

neon bulbs

and listen to

others preach about others

anyway

.

I am a shark caught

in the wilds of the

deep blue ocean

and strung along a pier for

all onlookers to gawk at;

or at least,

I am a free wheeling businessman

serving

time in a white

collar

jail cell.




untitled 2504


how lucky it is to be

born on a Sunday

.

she was a friend of mine.

wrapped up in the

comics pages.

funnies and funnies.

I remember the times of

the ice crystals,

jaunting down her hair

in

cycles, spirals,

circles

.

she had frozen,

or nearly so,

and

came to my fire place just to

survive.

I

wrapped her in a humorous

blanket and

sat

in my old oak chair.

we

sipped the strange mint

leaf tea

and guessed.

how old am I

how old are you
?

she was a nude

baptist,

cleansing herself

constantly.

to be loved,

longed

for,

to fire up the car

engine in

dead winter

and

not wait for the windshield

to defrost.

that’s all Sarah ever

wanted.

little teeth,

the capacity to tear little

holes in everything

,

was her gift.

candy candy,

eyes are made for

you

and fancy.

discover lover,

I’m

always consumed by

another

.

1 comment:

Jeff D said...

I like this new Untitled. The short simple lines and concrete images are beautiful.