Crazy in Love

We held hands and got ice cream, took turns taking licks

We held hands and watched buskers perform magic tricks

We held hands and we window-shopped painted guitars

We held hands and we lay on our backs counting stars

We held hands and each chewed off the other one’s thumb

That was dumb.

The Royal Steak

A princess stands still on a bed of pale lettuce

In her hands, she holds a dark, raw steak.

The steak drips red and stains the pale lettuce

And the hands of the princess start to shake.

She tries to keep hold of the steak, but it’s slipping

‘Cause her hands spasm wildly in the air

The dark, raw steak drops splat on the lettuce

And the princess in her trance can only stare.

“You have dropped the royal steak!” chides the King

“You’re a moron! Fifty lashes with a whip shall be your prize!”

With a thwack thwack thwack, the Lasher whips her back

And her buttocks and the flesh-twins of her thighs.

The princess stands still on the bed of pale lettuce

‘Til her blood runs down her backside to her feet

Then the King scoops up the bed of pale lettuce

And says to the princess: “Eat.”

The princess eats the blood-imbued lettuce

With her hands, which still haven’t ceased to shake.

“There, there,” says the Queen. “I know it’s not pleasant.

But it’s only fair. You dropped the royal steak.”

The Beautiful Wolves

The beautiful wolves

In their tuxes and gowns

Have secret soirees

On the outskirts of town

Walking on their hind legs

With their snouts in the air

The females look classy

The men, debonair

They enter a building

The outside is plain

But the inside boasts gold chandeliers

And champagne

They sip drinks and they schmooze

Whisper gossip, make quips

Invent scandals, spread rumors

And lie between sips

They are there to be viewed

And each wolf is a viewer

A waiter serves fresh, bloody meat

On a skewer

A magician breathes fire

And is met with applause

Dainty flutters of praise

From their manicured paws

Then Arabian she-wolves

Perform for the crowd

Tinkling coins on their skirts

And their snouts in silk shrouds

And the beautiful wolves

Say, “How fetching!” “Divine!”

As their pour down their gullets

Their glassfuls of wine

And by four in the morning

Their eyes are all glazed

Their cacophonous chatter

Occurs in a haze

When it’s time to depart

They say, “It’s been a treat.”

And wrapped up in their furs,

They hail cabs from the street.

Oh, you fine, sumptuous wolves

Have you had a nice night?

Then return to your dens, you drunk fools

And sleep tight.

Toy Boat

Toy boat toy boat 
What keeps the boat afloat afloat?
Perhaps it is the water beneath
Which holds the boat in watery teeth
Perhaps it is the air above
Which grips the boat with an oxygen glove
Perhaps it's held by invisible string
Puppeteered by a bird with a silver wing
When the teeth unlatch and the air lets go
And the bird disappears, then I think I know
Yes I think I know and I know I think
That when that occurs, that the boat will sink.

Transitions

In the tub

Eating a hundred plastic dinosaurs

Swallowing tiny stegosaurus spikes

Feeling Jurassic.

On the roof

Planting a hundred yellow daffodils

Watching the sun watch me plant daffodils

Feeling paranoid about the possible personhood of the sun.

In the bed

Scratching my ears with a fork

Scratching the fork with my ears

Tickling between the four prongs

The fork laughs…

In my dreams

Hearing the laughter of the fork

Digesting the dinosaurs

Feeling paranoid about the possible personhood of the moon…

Because, are they on our side, the celestial bodies?

It hurts

I can’t digest the dinosaurs

I wake up with sun in one eye and moon in the other

I can’t remember how many daffodils

Or whether I watered them

Or whether they were seeds or bulbs

Or whether I grew from or was planted in this world.

Termites

One child has termites in his belly.

They are grateful for the food.

They pass it among themselves, termite mouth to termite mouth.

Each termite plays a part in digestion.

When the sun sets, you can hear them say “Goodnight, Mom.”

They have no other word to refer to the child.

A Man Who Needs a Friend

There is a little man who lives in a little house and hates whenever he sees something blue.

If you offer him a stick of gum and it is green no problem.

If you offer him a stick of gum and it is blue he will pull out fistfuls of his own hair and shove them madly into the small spaces surrounding his eyeballs.

If you show him a poem you wrote in black ink no problem.

If you show him a poem you wrote in blue ink he will bellow and whine and screech and howl and defecate in graveyards.

Please be his friend.

He so desperately needs you to show him things that aren’t blue...

To Sit Still Long Enough...

At night when you can sit still

Long enough to love the cockroaches

Long enough to forgive them their germs, their exoskeletons

Long enough to invite them warmly into this world

Long enough to know that they are you, really

Then the smallest angel will alight on your shoulder

And that will be bliss.

When you arrive in Medellín

When you arrive in Medellín

The air is dirtier

The women have fake breasts

An ad the size of New York says ‘Sex Underwear’

The subway intercom tells you to smile

The sliced mangos come with salt

The old men are cute and wear their belts tight

To keep their pants from sliding down

Their flat, flat asses.

It’s all good, you know, in this tin can in the sky

It’s all good, you know, in this tin can in the sky.

They might feed you a funky croissant

Or an orange juice.

They might tell you what to do in case the plane lands in water

The flight attendant might wear makeup or he might be gay

If you write prose poems on the plane, you get to wear a blue button that says ‘Poet Aboard’

And if your eye mask is on the whole time

That’s okay

You will fly in mind wormholes the pilot does not yet understand...

The Pestering Senses

What do I understand? asked the eyes

The stripes on old gentlemen’s ties

The steam wisps that drift up from pies

The gauzy pink clouds in the skies

These I know and I like, said the eyes.

What do I understand? asked the nose

The scents of petunia and rose

The fresh fleecy smell of the snows

The mothball perfume of old clothes

These I know and I like, said the nose.

What do I understand? asked the hand

The stretch of a smooth rubber band

The squish of the peaches I’ve canned

The soft golden grit of the sand

These I know and I like, said the hand.

What do I understand? asked the ears

The roar of the crowd when it cheers

The snip-snip of haircutting shears

The seagulls that squawk at the piers

These I know and I like, said the ears.

What do I understand? asked the lips

The snot from the nose when it drips

The crunch of the salsa and chips

The sauce on the chicken wing tips

These I know and I like, said the lips.

What do I understand? asked the mind

I am not quite so simply defined

I’m in all of the senses, you’ll find

But I also reflect and remind

And my hunch is that I am entwined

With all of the cosmos combined

Sui generis, and yet unconfined

I’m…

“Look, skies!” interrupted the eyes

“Old clothes!” interrupted the nose

“Soft sand!” interrupted the hand

“Loud cheers!” interrupted the ears

“Yum! Chips!” interrupted the lips

Well, the mind heard the senses and smiled

And tended to each like a child

And sorted them out when they fought

But wished it had more time for thought.