mount me like a satyr

the poetry mounts me like a satyr

the old man in philly is reticent

the high school kindred is verbose

the parisian sugar daddy is asleep

i’m faithful to no one but to all just the same

not lies, but untruths

i hate the lie but i necessitate it

now  don’t know which one it is, the lover, the lie

listening to a tune important in the old days

the good(bad)days

the poetry outdoes itself

metaphor, argot, slang, nudges and winks

it’s happy hour somewhere

maybe on the illustrious california coast

but all the history of that western wing

clumps in my throat and induces a gag reflex

the smell of tequila, south central, and a moment

with wielded power

the pattern: destruction and pleading, and

the knight in shimmering armor

that man so many years or days ago

i see the lines i put in his brow

with my junkie chic freudian bullshit

the word for ad in french is pub

i need a pub with darts

to be grandiloquent among the patrons

of all the gin joints in all the towns

of all the world

win harms

beat poem

i numb my mind with cartoons and high grade marijuana

spouting off outrageous claims like “i am going to kill the

president” or

“i am the chosen one; the sun god told me so”

i am a caffeine fiend and nicotine queen

ex (future) junkie whore if this bit doesn’t work

i remember everything, even the things i say i don’t

every second of this comedy called life

where everyone is seeking mysteries but

forgetting about reality

i see the beauty in all: art, poetry, hoboes, and

naked people dancing in the street

i see the hazy visions

i can never tell for i am the keeper of the children

each and every one of you i am the mother, protector

i am always there, waiting for you

the scandals that surround me are true

i am only half angel

the shadows find me, too

but i know the way

the rest we’ll catch as catch can

burn the flags and smoke the pipes

run with the hunted and hide in the light

win harms

elektra euphemisms


I   switchblades of

my happiness

as he pours salt

into my wounds

desire burns ephemeral

the scars of his love

in the gift I couldn’t give

we wait in the silent

lies of childhood lost

II   ponderous verbiage

and screwdrivers

my splitting headache

in your house with

my father’s doppelganger

waxing rhapsodic

in between the lines

more in the handshake

than meets the eye

jumping the hurdles of

our habits

III   the hem of my robe is the echo

of one thousand nazis marching

while the beating of my heart

confuses itself with cymbals

of the marching band

the smell of death in winter

(of love or a dog)

mingles with something burning

confusing my senses and

causing me to act in

one rerun after another

heads and tails




sugar dew drop in your words (not unlike happy tears

running down my sunburned cheeks) to live? Not to live?        

that is not a question now nor will it ever be again

characteristically speaking, something about you

travels over my skin like grave dancers and an ocean wave

ecstasy over your curls (creating palpitations with every

touch and never floating far from my mind)

angels covet or want as, covet is sin,

your sun kissed smile and lights (maybe even stars)

brighten when you arrive







transcendent behavior marked by soft words

could i fall so readily?  so out of time and out

of touch?   goddess on my knees   you or

maybe not you (maybe the illusion of you in

my world running faster than sounds) force against

me while the grass turns a shade of love in the

summertime as rain whispers your name in my ear

grasping sugar sunshine in the cool wet places

only you know, only i know we comprehend

illusions not found in the common eye

copyright 2013

who am i?

who am i? who are you?

ask me no questions

i will tell you no lies

i am the writing on the wall

i am the hand under mona lisa’s skirt

i am the ruler of unconditional things

on a sunny day i am the flower

turning towards the sun

i am shaken not stirred

i am the poets’ metaphor

i make you laugh, cry,

run and hide

i can tell stories from

bedrooms and back seats

i remember your name

the stars whisper mine

who am i? i am you