misfits part 3!

Hey guys, see you out at Co-Lab tonight! Need all the misfits I can get...

the misfits: Che

Che really has no name.
he wears
black shirts.
he listens to the thump of trash can lids.

oh trash can lids! he wails
and he is the hubcap
in the debris

or
the moth sweater
starlight
loosened.

misfits part 2!

Here is the next part of...Misfits! Enjoy, miscreants.

the misfits: the buzzard

the buzzard saw
the luster of the city mouse
going

around old wrinkles of
discarded hamburger
wrapping.

it scooped
and soared
but flew past
the industrial spire
and

inhaled the flume of smoke.

then it spiraled down.
then
it landed on the taxi cab.
then it
moaned and slid and found its way under the bus.

E.A.S.T. in one week!

Hey kids and kids and kids, I'll be performing at Co-Lab this following Tuesday the 17th at 7:30! Hey, I'll be portraying Atticus the Four-Faced Man. What is that? Who can say? Got to come out and find out! To celebrate, here is a new poetry series...and a picture...of a hand!

the misfits: terrible day

Che
counts one to three
to four
to nine

and breaks the glass in the
alley
with
his small baseball bat.

the buzzard flies into the city and chokes.

some small vagrants wandering
do their
worst,
ravage a business
man,
wear his coat around their waste,
and flush his briefcase into
the gutter.

Che smiles, grabs an old
pizza box, causes it
to flap,
and jumps off a fire escape
into
a dumpster.

a poem from a few days ago...boo!

Careful criminals, it rhymes!

halloween 2009

in the tree
across the plaza
make
believe and all
go
gaga

we sleep slip
slope
a slapping hap
to go
and retrieve our tired
pap

he lived
alone on exile lane
and
to this day he can’t
remain

candy me
candy you
live with me

with masks

adieu

more poems from the odyysey

Hey guys, it's been some time in between my posts, and all I can say is, life is hard, busy, fun, disappointing, pragmatic, not pragmatic at all, and endearing. Okay, to make up for the long wait, here's a new poetic series I wrote recently in its entirety. And check out: bohococo.blogspot.com, too, because November means it's time to start posting again. And there's going to be a Boho Coco reading at Co-Lab this November 17th (at 7:30) as part of the E.A.S.T. 2009 studio tour. Cool!

killer: yeah

yeah
killer
come
get me,

I want my toes bitten
off
and sacrificed.

there is no
love
that is not love.
no taste
that is not
taste.

come to me,
wear your red candles,

I’ll wear my
opals and my
trousers and
I’ll
scream.


















killer: third day

on the third
day
you’ll
take
me
to the riviera
and
we’ll light tiny
paper ships
aflame
and
set them in the stream.

take me back
into
the wooden cottage,
slay
me,

drink a bottle of port
and
go to
sleep.



















killer: cologne

a French
named
sing songy
type

came around
the corner
wearing
a cummerbund

and waded deep
into
the crowd of strangers.

if my hand is raised

obligatory

take away the night
in
my
fingers

and down down the alley
go

like a messenger
doused
in
cologne.












killer: babe

I’ll
be sunshine

on
the beach blanket.

go go

dance in the sand

a
beach
a dune

too much glare

the killer
sets to work
and

orchestrates a volley ball match





















killer: scissors

fall
down
the landing.

wear a blazer.

take time
to

be a bandit.

cut with scissors.






























killer: Halloween

he wore the monkey
suit,
she a barbarian,

and they collected candy
from strangers.

later,
in the midst of a spree,

the two fornicated on a veranda
floating in
space.

they tossed peanut butter trinkets
into the night
and
touched mask to mask.
























killer: blabbermouth

talk
the storm of storms
into

existence,
but
the killer
sneaks around,

slip slash,

down you go.

sleep a good sleep.
live
in
the terrarium.