Police Report

I feel haunted by the incident:

Last Wednesday afternoon, two unknown men walked into our house.
My roommate was upstairs in her room, with her door closed.

Two unknown men made noise downstairs. They rifled.
They went into my room. I live on the bottom floor.

My roommate lay reading in bed. It sounded like an awful lot of noise.
She heard me or Virginia come up the stairs,

until someone opened her door without knocking. She knew we would not do that.
They locked eyes. He swore at her, then descended fast with jewelry.

He kicked over my guitar as he left,
she said to me as we sat together on the staircase.

She told me they definitely went into my room.
All the gaps in my room radiate a violence. Our house has bad air.

We speak from a deep place about the violation.
My roommate is at home with her parents.

For three days we must walk through the house, stunned,
and then we can start cleaning.

Activist reaches out to Frankenstein but nothing doing

“Poor green monster. You’ve separate women.
You lumbering Lenny. You keep the kids in.
A brainclot of a master, an anti-Mister.
Raise signs with us. Deserved.” (Disaster.)

ownership

I once protected men.
I canned them, or
replaced my long soul with flags of them.
I feared their death asea.

Tonight I am roughing through chemicals
and full of flags to shed.
That's allright. Patch on, Rosie.
Work during the war
and grow cloudlessly lovely alone.

A terrible thing swept a small town

A herd of cows, goaded by fire,
stampeded downhill in a blitz
through some open legs of street
where they exploded across people and dragged them.

Interim

The animal way of love is bitter.

It often returns me to my lovely long rope that cords up to the moon,

where my climbing is small and sad, sexless, secure;

where I do not care for a partner, and there are no ugly questions:

How can I make myself spare,

and immediately vulnerable, and just enough?

How to confess sexually, how to lay out organs

tastefully, how to patiently come into each other?

How to respectfully and lovingly narrate? How to

bring tea? How to knock so quietly all the mice in the door

relax?

the neurotic narrator's eternal hypocriticism

How to clatter onward?

How to bliss out?

Instead I fawnpatter.

Instead I spout piss.

In this story I'm going to write
protag finds Joey Lieberman
wandering in a swamp
with his conscience a-waver
and brings him back to the fold
from whence he has strayed
of the insurance industry lobby
who have posted a reward
for his safe return, and protag
takes the wages of complicity
and quits his job at the store
and goes out on the road after
happiness, but the money's gone
before he catches sight of it
and the derelict drunks
who are always standing by
to offer advice
begin to close in

A religious belief
in travel and in small
symbolic gestures
as the means of
erasure
or of effecting change.

About seven minutes
into the woods
behind the Jack Cohen-Koenig Theatre
spanning the gap between the hillside and platform
built twenty feet from the ground
between the trunks of two trees
is a twelve foot plank
which may have been put there
the platform as well
by hunters
but when I went there
I would read a book
and lie all day
watching the sun slide around in the sky
and I wish to god that I were on my way there now
instead of headed to work at the glasses store

love

hollywood is

a city of chums.

glam nails. morocco. a killed mandaddy,

a dead woman fucking

, and fame, that yellow mollified star.

foster (a love poem)

my goose, excuse me,

god bless it but your eye is up.

you are magnificent and prey; you are alert and magnificent by the bookshelves,

watching me advance

from just one side of your tall white head.

I guess that J.K. also stood for just kidding.

A couple of the lesser stars have gone out
in the sky. A number of things down here
have lost their luster. Someday someone's
going to catch you in a lie.
It's going to cost you your bluster.

On Saturday the exterminator's coming
by to spray our basement with his grim
carcinogens. But there are greater evils
than that in the world.
I don't expect that you will ever call me again.

Totale slacker

i REALLY, REALLY wanna SmAsH my guitar tonight >>>in direct protest of the assholes who
polluted the gulf coast with their precious Oil. wish i could do more.

Use your fucking turn signal!

I'm trying to cross the street!
Also, stop fucking honking.

2010

that book is awesome. thanks, tullah and nica! great poems, everyone!

marina

other people's narratives become your own

Boss

Boss o boss,

your voice is the red pen.

and certainly loopy: I see it herd, it lassoes them.

Your face is lump.

And when you smile

the cheekdough rises.

Boss o boss,

O show me the picture

of your baby again.

RIDDLE DAY

RIDDLES CONJURED UP FOR MY CO-WORKERS BECAUSE THE GEMINI'S JOB IS TO KEEP EVERYONE SHARP AND DISTRACTED

1.

A fire in the hearth can't burn without it.

The Earth can't turn without it.

What is it?

(Hint: I wouldn't want to live without it.)

2.

It's breakable, unless you're above it.

What is it?

(Hint: Few make it.)

3.

If you take the final sylla

ble of this three syllabled vegeta

ble and put it at the front of the word,

you get the title of an email

written in response to an email

about a vendor.

What is it?

She was my friend,
it just worked like that.

We had routines and we had time together
we had what we wanted.

She liked grey –
dove grey and flat almost white grey,
when the ocean and the sky looked the same,
she liked that.

She had all these feelings about where I was from,
and she told them to everyone.

She liked to gape at everyday things,
like the walls that held up the highway,
or the houses lit up at night.
That’s an amazing wall she would say.

It was my wall but I had never noticed it.

We went to a party where everyone had feathers in their hair
outside in the yard people were grazing and lazing
her face was round and pale
a “twinkle in her eye,” my mother would say.

She had something going on.

You did not love me enough

Below is the poem I read last night. Thank you for liking it..
Love
Frosso V

You gave me part of yourself
and I said: it is not enough

You did not love me enough,
you did not accept me enough,
you did not see me enough

I keep asking and asking for what I did not get
forgetting all that I did get

asking and asking for what I did not get
unwilling to see all that I did get

asking and asking for what I did not get
losing sight of the fact that you gave me what you had
you gave me what you could
and it is enough

I take it in my heart in gratitude
and I learn something about love
only when you can say, Thank you, it is enough
you can free your heart from the chains of demand
and forget the bitterness that comes with the "I did not get enough"
and start giving of your own heart

This is how you fill that emptiness in your heart

griddles

let's bludgeon the dry skulls, and marry the sweet.
let's stick to the meat.