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Poems

ii

I want the sea
Not in that desperate way, not in the way of old when I wished for you to come with me there, when I was afraid of going there alone and thought only companionship would make the water wet enough
I want the sea on the hot days again, waking early and then, the train ride to the lip of the water. I want the blue waters again where I remembered and then built up the sea hut long knocked down, forgotten and drowned, I need the water

Last night I dreamed of him. Last night we were making love together and he was not alone. He brought his summer boy with him, those two eager lovers kissing me, and as he prepared to leave and I prepared to plant the tree in the deep earth, I found him in the closet and he said remember the sea hut, I have not forgotten the sea hut and I said there is so much forgotten and so much lost and so much never appreciated and, I think you underrated my love. I made love to the back of you. I put my tongue inside of you and you offered me your cock. I had the both of you before I left and in longing I woke up alone in the pewter grey morning, mourning nothing, remembering the love once put up in the old sea hut, remembering the water, dismembering all the cold of this past winter, preparing for the sea hut

O corey, I was and am and will remain this unrepentant slut. You didn’t even tell me his name when you brought him over to the apartment of orange and yellow, the apartment where night is always outside the window, the place of four o clock in the morning. We drank vodka and numbed our tongues on rum and marijuana and we were naked and didn’t give a damn on that bed and when it was time for you to be leaving I followed you, got on my knees and thrust my tongue in your ass. I couldn’t get enough of your cock. Your friend had put his blue jeans on, but then I pulled them down and had him too, the both of your
and you all still had not left come midmorning.


This is the land of fuck and dreaming, this is the land of weed and wonder, thunder on the land the thunder from the sky, thunder cross the waves, and across where we lie together, together, warm together with the memory of love.


I have said the spell to return to the island, I have said the spell to return to the island, last night my screen turned upside down at he flick of a button, and all the world had gone around, I lit cigarettes and cast a net over the mermaid’s head, should have gone to bed, but up we stayed till late singing old songs and weaving new wishes,
look, I found that old tee shirt in the closet and it smelled like must and basements and years gone by.
I thought of years gone by, don’t let this past be anything but the foundation for what is to come, don’t be lost in the labyrinth of regretting
make from what was a house of what is. This is the business of memory
we are well into the morning and I am still not awake enough for this,
my eyelids are still stuck together,
I listened to bullshit and noise like the squawking of crows,
more and more, my ears filled with foolishness until this moment of silence.
I need to wash my face,
I need to wipe the gunk from my eyes
I need to clean my glasses to I can see again
I need a cigarette
 
LAMMAS

1.

And just like that the year was closer to being done than it was to having begun
And this is the year we all hid out in fallout shelters
The snow and rain pelted us when last we met and now we sit in lammas
Ninety degree days say
Halt all your foolishness, they sent down rain, and grey remains and water, water falling for Tailtiu’s funeral
Now is the secret hidden in sour dough and fizzy sweet wine
How god was here, she was here all the time, not in the offering of body and blood
But in all you eat, all that’s good,
every blessed thing that’s in your hand
The grace of the earth
The grace of the land
Jesus said the body is more than food and clothes and you are more than flesh
But a body with no food and no clothes is not body
And a spirit that never knew flesh is just a breath
Think of earth and live in your head a little later
At lammas remember the holiness of hands and feet and pussy and cock
Of jism and opening, closing and locks

Ah me, the virginity of bread
Oh yes, the rumbling overhead of more thunder
And she often wondered why her period came with the full moon and drained her like a vampire
If there was just a wire to tap into for more strength,
But instead of the strength I offer only rest, and the sad strange knowledge I gave you all I could give, sometimes in exhaustion to leave you flat, this is where the magic lives, paid out in knives and teaspoons, strained through sieves, and we will not get to the beach this summer, we won’t get back again, you listen to the doorman bitch, the doorman is your friend he tells you all about his rights and how the things should be, but in the end you know that he…
He only speaks this way cause he is fragile as the sand and he will do just what the law commands,
just like everybody else does
And you are asked to believe in this bread?
Before you think of rising from the dead, oh please, please, just let me think of rising!

You
You’re gonna be a good boy
I don’t need a moi doi crystal ball or a deck of tarot cards to tell this
And you said, I heard you were a witch
And I just winked and scratched my ass and kept on smiling
We’ve been piling want to worry and watching every commercial, and every ad leaves out the plague it’s trying to sell things for
A man comes to my door
And says, do you need a bidet? I’m sure you need a bidet. Eighty percent of the world already has one? A car, why don’t you get a new car, and these shoes, and the boots you just can’t live without
But I
Already know how to clean my own ass
And having done it also know you’re full of shit
 
I never know if they're good or not. I have a hard time rating what poetry is, so thank you for that. That line kind of makes me happy too! Thanks!
 
damn... I've been really tardy with this

lammas ii





I need the quiet more than I need distrust
I need the moments of silence in a world that is suddenly grey and full of clouds, and I don’t mind this cloudy morning, the cat in my lap and this cup of tea
I never owned a cat and I don’t drink tea
When I say cat I mean, what I mean is a cigarette and cup of coffee and my unwashed face
I hate the news, and sometimes I don’t turn a thing on cause I don’t need noise in my ear, I don’t need a screen flashing in front of my eyes
this dirty room is a too much noise, all this crazy shit thrown this way and that, the stack of tarot cards my foot falls into, and yet, this is the noise I can stand. This noise I will take
You wake to a bell that tells you it’s still morning and you’ve made it through the initiations of the night

You know, last night I almost called you just because I wanted a man even though you were only half one
I almost called your skinny face and put up with your nonsense just so I could have your body for an hour—you were always the perfect love to send home, you always sent yourself home, the goodness that was you could not survive beyond two hours
Teach me the meaning of half life

You are still looking for meth and the million dollar money machine, after two years on the street you’re still scheming, and your face is a sad old woman’s all covered in grease.

There isn’t a way out, and no legs up for you, you couldn’t get with the program and there’s only one program and it’s not for crazy people,
compassionate arms should have scooped you up and locked you away a long time ago, but there you go, mad and unfit and we don’t have patience for the mad cause we’re so close to them, to have mercy for the crazy would be like looking in the mirror
You always said I never had enough, asked what I was looking for
The only thing I’m seeking is someone with the humility to fuck, the lust of true balls and an end to all this posing,
When I was young I sought out sex in alleys and backyards, top floors of parties, floors of hardwood, and out of all the rowdy men, I am the last one standing, and five hundred prophets of Baal, and five hundred prophets of baal
and I am the last one standing

I like William Blake,
but I am better
even if its cause I sit here on his shoulders,
I read some shitty poetry the other day, it’s never in short supply nor are its admirers
and one said, you have the soul of a poet, and I thought, I don’t know what’s a poetic soul, but I’d rather have he had his skill

The rills and ripples on your chest as you breath,
and the curve of your ass and the soft strength in your limbs,
all the things that more than make up for your face and the
half man that you were, in the darkness we endure half things
to get what we can
and
this is the humility
the reality of loving things
 
iii

My first three lovers overwhelmed me with their force. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever want to have sex again
All of them opened me to feelings I never knew I had, eddie had the smoothest roundest ass I’ve ever seen, and a penis ten inches long, a slong that swung back and forth like an elephant trunk and was good for nothing but to be pretty, but to be limp and velvet smooth in my mouth and
then his fingers and mouth opened me up to many things and when I fucked him,
oh he would intake his breath, he would demand, what the fuck is this? in a high voice like he was praising the lord, my word, how he would ride me
he taught me the meaning of insatiable, with few words and little personality,
in a sexy black thong, his ass sung as he revealed it from his trousers,
I remember the smell of his skin, and then, one day he was gone away,
rarer and rarer
Two years you spent in and out of my bed, giving me head and riding me to
the sunrise
And then my dear, disappear is what you started to do
One last time you came, I came inside you, caressing your buttered cakes,
marveling in the man who had no words, but a lovely body
I had to find out things about you, you wanted no story
How you were edgar boris midget and you came from north Carolina,
how you wore those oversized colorful suits Black Baptists wear,
and over there you threw your hands up praising Jesus the way you praised my cock.
Once I ran my hand up and down you firm and living flesh and thought,
one day you will learn that one of your loves is dead and this skin
is cold and gone
But long before that you left me in the way casual lovers do
You went the way of Johnny and Martin and Michael and the truth is now
I thing about them too
I thought, last night, it has been near eight years since you left off
humping me, but last night, I learned it was only two, and the other six, while I praised your name, your lust, your tight brown body,
you were dead and gone and buried on a hill
in North Carolina
 
Last night you came to me
In grace and with no judgment you came to me
In our middle age,
past dreams of success you came to me in the dark and
we undressed and you sucked and sucked me like I was candy
and your lust was candy to me,
my bucking hips fucking the new creation of your mouth,
our bodies could not cling tight enough,
our skins could not be hot enough and you
were the size of sears tower in my mouth,
and the saltiness of your desire stuck to my tongue,
and then,
before I had wrung all passion from you,
you wrung it from me,
thighs as strong as nutcrackers around me,
body true and large as the earth enfolding me,
cock against cock gliding with me until hands clenched
and unclenched in the surrender
of
explosion.
 
In his twenties, broken men were his distraction from his broken life,
from doing what needed to be done.
Now he can see the lover of his grown up years is only wounded,
is never broken,
and he can work and tend a wound at the same time
just fine.
Outside, the icicle which had been opaque with cold now
glistened as it melted, then fell, like the strike of a bell to the ground
with a shatter and shimmer of water.
Everything changes.
 
this is the song for you

you who feel like weariness
at this late hour
remember what you have never known
my hands, grown tired of not knowing your body,
kneading your sides, tasting your nipples
traveling down to hold your hips
unbutton those jeans
lean my head forward'to fill my mouth
with your uncircumcized cock
the whole lot of your seed shooting in me
it should have always been this,
the weight of your balls
drained of it all
your salt in my mouth
and all of your nut kike a geyser
unstopped before me
 
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