snippets
September 22, 2007 (b)
portrait of my room
wall to wall uncertainty
a bed full of unfinished poems
the book of shadows you gave to me
with your name just inside the cover
in thick black unwashable ink
toxic irresponsibility tucked
beneath a mattress broken
by the movement of bodies
pictures of you
and other boys
frozen faces I have kissed
dressed in the skin of some other woman
american beauty
In a forest of mirrors,
women shrink into themselves,
will run down any anorexic back alley
to chase a hot ass something
with a tattoo snaked ‘round his arm
and a double-tucked fist that likes to get loud
when he drinks a double anything
straight up.
crash
you are the Tigris
i’m Euphrates
we keep meeting in the most
unexpected places
dribbling into one another
like wine swirling in a blue glass
over a dinner table
a toast to you and your
indecision
the many twists and bends you take
into the desert you call a life
alone is not living
just you and your machine
rumbling down some country back road
late at night
summer breezes blowing right on by
naked girls come through your eyes
slip out of your arms like sand
I am waking up in a shower
of sun subsisting
on breakfast dramas
phone calls
a subtle sweep of fingers
over flesh
devils in my ear whispering
there is nothing quite like
the sound of shattering glass
the skid of tires
they hope it gives me
something to pray for
