doggerel deluge

2005-12-12T08:02:00.000-08:00

lovelust

i know no one ever knows and so

i go full hearted into your shallow chamber

of lies fluttering eyelashes and voiceless

decrees

admist your hips thighs and flowers

unworthiness is a broad term.

it flows of uncertainty and remorse

i wonder how much longer this can all go on?

the mornings of longing

the push and pull of quivering skin to help satiate the need of you?

you reside in other fantasies

the one in the car

or the train

the one where you take me down and willingly take me shoot upside

the flare rockets between your fingers and wetness..i shiver in my stockings

i moan into darkness

i wonder how much longer this can all go on?

Suzy Gonzales

i look into the pictures of your sidways glancing eyes
i see the girl that everyone loved
everyone saw in life boiling over into bubbling smiles
the girl that everyone knew
on a red scooter
and purple wig
trailing daisies behind you
chasing fireflies on the side of the road

with a preference to plaid skirts and
green tennis shoes
bright open smiles
and poses of exuberance abound
it hurts my cheeks to make my mouth bend that
wide
your smiles
your body young and atheletic
your skin radiant and pure

it is with this i recognize
your pain..
the charade
the constant winning over of allies
and the self doubt..

it is with this i see my path entertwined with yours..
only you
have far outdone me, girl.

i cannot make the plans
that took you from this life..
and somehow..that makes you more brave
than i will ever be..

i see the pain and disbelief in your parents
faces..the old worn
latino lines
that my mother and father always
had for me..

'..she was such a happy girl..'
i think they would say..

they never really do know us, do they?
no one ever really knows us...
and somewhere the brain plays tricks on us..
makes us seem larger than life
makes it ok..
to think..
to drink the poisens
that will bring us to the sleep we crave

to shut the voices out
of self doubt
and pain..

and so you will haunt me..
Suzy Gonzales..
I will never truly know if you should be my
Hero..
or my demise.

don't read this

stirring the cup
makes no pleasure
to see you there
and my wall is falling
with a bitter sip

telling you is important
keeping you there is more
and here comes the best part

i am/am not over you yet

i want to find the sofa you are looking for
to melt against you
in un popular ways
forgetting my gender
and stereotypes
pouring like sugar
over the mystic
i made you into

i drink it down fast
wonder where the time goes if
it is always now

my belle and sebastian cd is on a loop
im hoping it will inspire me
to write about you
like a storybook damsel
instead
it makes it rain.

2005-08-30T16:59:00.000-07:00

burial rights

don't make a noise
don't make a breath
the funeral
in our bed
is finally underway.

arms wraped around ourselves
we knew it was coming
but i didnt know
the moment
would be
so..
tragic?

don't move an inch

the silent wall between us can't
budge
or fall
around the false hopes we
carried once

and all at once

it's lowered down
the desire
and the willingness
will mingle
with the bones of our
false intentions
and there we will
rot

don't speak
don't breath
and shall these
bedspings
nary squeak..

the funeral in our bed
is finally
underway.

still

i am still here
being ignored
like the wallpaper
sighing out the window into
hopeless
emotionless
light of day

i am still here
staring at the skyline
waiting for signs
and multitudes of forgiveness
for yet undone deeds

and love
that too..
love.

cycles

it continues
the sky clears and gives
new meanings
without its dark deep cloud cover

i step out onto the wooden planks
and feel the warmth of the past
within them

out beyond the trees and fence
they are out there

and it continues
until it is right
until it does not.

tenderly

I tenderly see you thru watered down eyes.
Watered with alcohol and blurred with smoke..
and with the jazz behind you
you move in scarecrow patterns
in front of fishtanks with worried
inhabitants that
flee even with the click of a lightswitch.

it is tenderly
i wonder what it like
to sleep alone
night after night
among your carefully placed things
rows of white toilet paper
dustless corners
and shelves of books..

your airconditioner humming alone
and the birds making nests in your trees outside
my flophouse sleep bed I hastily
fall in..

i see the motivation in your pictures,
aligators
and a lonely sock at the side of the bed.

but as much as my heart desires
i somehow only catch glimpses of you
tenderly.

2005-05-16T10:31:00.000-07:00

13 voice messages

i forgot about for a few weeks,
and standing in the morning window light sun
i dial the number
and listen to them
one by one

3 hang ups
3 from the blogger girl..
bubbles and smiles
1 from a missed appointment
1 from a missed party across town
1 from an old friend that calls me 'puddin' pop'

1 of p's little friends, breathy and too close to the reciever
1 automated loan computer
and
1 that sounded like it came from outerspace with lots of
white noise and distored voices

all of these I delete from the phone.

and then there is
1 from her

talking low
from a shielded reciever
at work..she says..
and it takes her
more than a few minutes to explain
coffee
and catching up
i can hear smiles..
as i listen i watch
the lazy cat from the apartment across the street
stretch and yawn
like the crazy
ball in my stomach
when i hear her voice

still

i push the number 9
and the robot voice says
my message will be saved
for 14 days.

and it is with great trepidation
i'll probably listen to it
for the next 14 days

and keep unraveling
the stray cat
in my heart
that she somehow happened
to leave behind.

2005-05-12T14:46:00.000-07:00

busted headlight

shit, i'm glad you are painting.
i was thinking about that the other day, looking up
at the collage you did for the breakroom..
the girl with the bass.. (the guitar, not the fish)
you drew that
and i was wondering if you were still painting..
thats really good.

i'm writing and
not doing much of anything elese
but thats good enough.
i got a new voice recorder for my ipod and i'm going to make a cd
of my poetry
thats good.
you should draw me a cover..really that would
be cool.
do it
do it

so i guess i'm doing alot.
but right at this moment..
im sitting here remembering the leaves and the trees
that's what it sounds like here in the patio door
open and stuff.
i get lonely here.
i watch the golf players and listen to
tom tom club and the cure
and feel pitifully old.
im all out of pot.
and so my day off is boring..
i usually get high and write poems
and listen to jazz and think off all these cool things
i want to say to you
and everyone elese..
then the pot wears off
and im just pitifully old again.

eh..anyway

im reading lots!
sylvia plath, bukowski, the history of television,
on the road..(again)
and a big anthology of poetry.. with lots of
hip hop and shit.
i like it..but it all mixes up like a big poetry gumbo..
with my juices inside poluting it all up.
i remember bits a pieces
and put them in the wrong order
and its quite surreal..
sylvia plath has mary tyler moore hair
and i want to fuck her even more..
jack kerouac is busting a sick rhyme..
and lenny and squiggy are in the backseat
smoking a blunt with alan ginsberg.

hah. thats real cute.

so anyway..
please write too..
and see you next sunday..where?
you choose
not too far away
i got a busted headlight..

2005-05-12T14:45:00.000-07:00

browse function

im in love
with the blog girl
the one with the scrunched up face
and short black hair
her b&w portraits speak to me
like only a pretentious
snob like me
can truly understand
and be turned on by..

sure,
the girl with the bettie page bangs is
sexy
but this one..
has style..

like a modern day
holly golightly
i can almost
see her tumbled over
champagne glass of milk
on the shag carpet..
and Cat curled up
in the bathtub sofa

how did she know
that i love horizontal stripes
and radiohead

its a match
made in
cyberspace dementia..

2005-05-12T14:42:00.000-07:00

V

hands that plow
thru dark thick ranges
of her jet black hair
thinking deep
about
irridecent bumblebee nightmares
shopping carts
and tall silver scaffolding

i am always taken by her fingers
thin delicate knots and knuckles
rice paper skin
cold and strong

fingers raking thru mad mop of hair
eyes a thousand and one miles away

oh,
to sleep in her winn dixie dream..
to take her far away into something
i have not imagined yet..

2005-04-18T10:26:00.000-07:00

Everything comes out in colors

the white
the yellow
the greens

leave the mark open to the empty
sky
my witness
the chill
escapes the window
in a rush

my wrists ache for resolve
my brain heavy
with sadness
dull from the clenching and
unclenching of my hands
thin fingers
wrapped around cigarette
blocks of inner conversations revolving around

you
me
sylvia

and the thousand winging birds outside
my doorstep
beleaguered in their necessary song.
the air
is pregnant with moisture

like my eyes
like my vagina
like my heart

ever beating crimson the three
holy trinity
once baited by you
and now nevermore
as i saunter
to my love's permanent slumber.

2005-04-10T12:14:00.000-07:00

so i'm back

to the stone front
and the crazy plastic owl that turns his
head slowly in the passing breeze.

there are 2 dos exis
boxes in front of your house out with the
trash,
the tree in the yard is nice and full
the dog with white whiskers
sleeps on the floor.

you are the same..and i am too.
so i'm back
to staring at the stone Buddha
and the the glass pebbles in the dish next to the serenity
sand zen garden with tiny rakes i want to touch

you watch my hands always..
and they always move and fiddle
with the pillows..my collar of my shirt..
the buttons on my purse.

i want to straiten the books on the shelve
my eye always lingers on the
food and hunger book
i'm always hungry

(i think about going to the dollar store next
and buying some candy to eat..)

i'm talking
about pain
about being lonely all the time
about the girl
and wanting to sit in a car
with her and wanting to ask
her for the impossible
all over again

you think i need to be
with people that make me
feel better about myself.
it's hard.. i tell you.

i want to sit in the car
with her and ask
her
'how do you feel about suicide?'
really
i do.

and somehow this scares and comforts me
at the same time.

2005-04-01T05:34:00.000-08:00

jokes. on. me.

its surreal
the moment you see your body
under you
working of its on discretion
without your egocentric mind
all wraped up in it

its glourious and dissapointing

that i'm less than perfect
that the face i have is a memory of what
i always thought i looked like
in the mirror

another person
vaguely familiar

older
tired
makes faces, sticks out tounge,
to make the inner
me
the child
laugh
to hide the dissapointment
that my made up surreality
doesnt always fool me
or you.

Aha!

so anyway
there was art
and pretension
modest mouse convention members
joy division
pillars of water and ice
dissolved in the
red neon and
cut blue glass that no on was suppossed to touch
DOnt! TOuch! they say sternly
my mexican rice and beans
sit like a rock in my gut
shoulda had another drink
this poetry is slow
boring and the audience say
'AH hah..!' knowingly..
but they don't know
cause the poet doesnt know
or care if you 'AH ha! Ah HA!'
bollocks
driving in the car on the way home
seeing the india ink pool of sky with
dirty cotton balls seeping into it
having that feeling again
that feeling
wanting to peel away from the car thru the passengers window
and float up into that blue
float effortless away
into something elese
into bed
he snores
i can't sleep with the racket of
all tomorrows dissapointment
rolling around in my brain
constant.

2005-03-14T19:12:00.000-08:00

the spins

she said that the girl took her boyfriend out to a club not too long ago,
did some coke and abandoned him all alone.
she said that she is an evil woman
that she never loved me
and that she used me to make herself feel better about herself

i didnt want to hear things like that about her
i didnt want to see her pretty face bowed over and ugly
snorting white powder into her beautiful
indio nose

it was when she said that that my head began to spin.
i could not stop the spinning..

i looked for someone to erase it all away

but i thanked her still
for the truth.

the truth being such a hard thing to come by these days

i fell asleep with kisses from other girls that night.

2005-03-14T19:11:00.000-08:00

what i remember about the party...

it was a lovely night.. the patio was the place to be..
everyone showed..it was a great night..
i was drinking tequilla and beers..smoking borrowed cigarettes and feeling slinky in
my purple dress and hippy jeans and barefoot..
the music was good..
The Boss showed and stayed all night, slept on my sofa
but i missed seeing it, as i passed out hours before he did.
the beautiful girl boss kissed me a million times and told me how beautiful i was a million times
i flirted with everyone
the food was good and at one time there were so many people it was hard to get around the place...
a real breakfast at tiffiny's moment
the guys played the 2600 all night
us girls and the rest of the guys smoked cigs, took shots and talked and laughed.
mikey d gave me a nice fat pipe and i was out of my mind the rest of the night.
i had a great heart to heart with eveyone that mattered..or at least everyone that
i had never had one with before..
i had lots of friends show that i have not seen in a long time.
i have LOTS of beer and liquor left over..so it looks like we'll be having a movie night soon..
it was a great night
i said lots of absurd things..
the most absurd being..
'im too punk to be emo' (??!??)
and 'maybe he'll pull it out of his ass if you ask him nice'
and
'oh yes, i am the best poet alive'
but everyone lauged and it was ok..
and i love you
all of you
every
last one of
you beautiful
beautiful
beings

2005-03-06T09:06:00.000-08:00

In Conversation

"I am taking applications
for a new girlfriend.
any takers?
apply within.
tryouts at the party.
or whatever.
payment is me.
what can I say...
it's a charity case"

2005-02-10T19:32:00.000-08:00

Jack

because you were a writer,
you posed with a railroad brakesman's rule book
in pockt, couch pillows airing on the fire escape
overlooking clotheslines
three flights up
on a lower east side manhatten pad,
holding a smoke between the fingers that
pecked away
to the mouth that verbed deep colours
of consonant cues..

because your hand
into fist fits so casually
in Levi's pockets,
you look like a lover i never had,
a lover i long for in the sickly green fadeout
black and white blues,

you were 'indulgent and huge'
tall thick and manly,
American
full-blooded red white and blue,
exhaulting the railroads, negros, migrant workers, junkies,
homosexuals,
handsome girls and pretty boys,
and The Fabulous Beats

i daydream we celebrate birthdays together
smoke mexican grass from your leather pouch
drink wine, eat hash,
wail to Charlie Parker on the on the phonograph
and dance barefoot together on dirty wooden floors

i dream i feel my first new york rain
as we walk to the diner together,
like dirty diamonds on our eyelids and lips,
and in the diner we hold hands and
flirt with the waitresses for more cups of
coffee

i hear your voice, Jack
reading my poems aloud
casual, punctuated and musical,
taking drags off cigarettes and telling me,
'i'ts awlright, doll'
and taking my pen you mark out all the
correcctions and read and reread again

because you were a writer,
i feel your days of solitude in my head
where you hung like that clothesline
up above Big Sur
and tried to fill the whole that was
unescapable..
but i know..
that the booze stays bitter
and the cigs never satisfy..
and the grass cannot sail us away..

i think..and i think i want to hang with you in
Big Sur..
i want to avoid the outcomes of us
i want to avoid your demise
and someday mine..
and i hope that mine
will not be so alone
like yours, jack..

because you were a writer
i forgot your birthday again this year
as i fucked my husband on the living room floor
in the Sunday morning blues and greens
with bebop jazz crooning us back to sleep

but somehow..
i know you think
thats
'awlright'

2005-01-24T13:02:00.000-08:00

amsterdam

with the pulse that surrounds me
the electric liquid hum
in my pint glass
the smoke,
the banter,
i keep the barstool warm for you
tonite..
hoping..
that somewhere you are
intensly avoiding or
searching for me.

i know things cant be the same

i lie myself to sleep everynight
now that you are gone.
i conjure up images of us as we once were
compose
shit rhymed poems for you
look for someone to impress with
the words you so willingly consumed

it is without remorse
you sleep at night.
dreaming of other reluctant lovers
you will someday leave
as well.

2005-01-24T11:56:00.000-08:00

i noticed the trees in your neighborhood

have dead dagger finger branches.

i see them everytime

i drive by your house.

the steel grey sky paints above you

like a menacing reminder and

i can feel the chill in your bones

everytime you write.

it's love

and i don't know a thing about it.

i don't know why the weather is bouncing inbetween us

like a message

i don't know why the nights

seem so long and lonely.

i don't know what love is

or if it really exsists,

in a cigarette

or a cup of cofee

or a song of jazz broken up between conversations

about you.

all i know is that you sit in other peoples cars

touch other people's hands

and never see me anymore.

2004-12-28T19:55:00.000-08:00

Haiku

we are twist in sheets
and curves of warm folded legs
when we are in love

2004-12-12T09:01:00.000-08:00

tired of blinding twisting lights
and torn tights.
tired of talking
and hearing about you again.

looking so pretty
twirling on barstools
somewhere in the aqua blue
neon reflected glass

where you wearing red...

lolita in drag?

2004-11-06T09:17:00.000-08:00

The older poetess

i scratch the back of my hand
its an older hand..
lost its plumpness to new wrinkles
these hands belong to someone elese
my mother perhaps..
with chipping polish..
i turn my head away from my own skin in disbelief.

i am sitting in a coffee bar,
warmed by the pressence of old friends
more than with coffee i sip
a red ribbon pulls my hair away from my face
a gesture i carry with a memory of a girl
i once knew in polka dots
and maryjanes

i feel age creeping into me.
at this moment..i remember the first time
i heard a friend recite.
today i dont need to see his face
to know it's reactions.
his emotion is mine
as i sip and sip

how fortunate am i.
to have lived so fully in the pressence
of such love,
such creativity
and self honor.

I have loved and lost and have always
had my seat here
at a local open mic.
where the mc calls me 'a legend'
and i turn the color of my hair bow once again.
i make my way to the mic.

once this was more than a ritual
it was a need and a desire to
belong.
now..it's sharing..
it's knowing.
it just is.

someone once told me
not to forsake the tiny voices
that call my name.

for once..i won't

2004-10-05T10:29:00.000-07:00

a case of the mean reds
is what we have today.
the weather no doubt..

holly golightly
i must today
fall into your diamond dreams and
farm hill slumber
clutching hankerchief and
cigarette
into lonely small bungalows
of introspection

there there
lula mae,
meet my other names
in the corridor.

we'll have a coctail or two
(or four)
and arms around shoulders
kiss eachothers
drunk faces
full of love!
share dreams
and whispers
that i 'love you
i love you..'
too terribly much
to say aloud

i want to crawl into your
bathtub tonite,
all
blanketed with feathers
and sequins
to die
a little bit
with you.
its the only way
i know how
to love a pretty girl

2004-09-17T21:49:00.000-07:00

heart shaped pillows sit on the bed unused.

i found the darkest corner of your footlocker to sleep in

next to your diary and worn out black chucks

i electric taped

to keep the rain out.

something happens..

i wanted to tell you i wanted to be in your room with the lights off.

i wanted to hear to sound of your room asleep..

i wanted to know that the blankets really felt like heaven

i wanted to know you

past your blouse and

belly and down

down

to the tomb of the secrets you held from me

weak eyes in your photgraphs

of a girl trying to find her way

personified into a concrete image of where my mindresides

that night i wanted to take the blade to my skull and peelaway the woman from me

i wanted to have your aloof eyes that

stared from the corner

of the picture of you at the wedding.

i could smell

crinolinas

stiff white icing

and your bare scalp

the smell of soap and innoscence

2004-08-26T08:31:00.000-07:00

blue tinged

enough of this
rolling around in our own skin
lofty dreams of being and sleeping in

you knew me well when you saw me then,
halfway between the moon and nothing
you had me pegged
a one hit wonder and roll in the hay

baby,
if you close your eyes tight
i'll make it all dissapear
tonite
i know how to touch you just right
lets dream in the beatitude of being
sisters
twisted among our sunbathed limbs of solitude
and pull the covers tighter
never should we shiver
without the blanket of our lies
again.

2004-08-12T20:57:00.000-07:00

not be sad

do you remember the night we saw the wisp
tied up in the milky back lights of stars
and broken tree limbs..
the devils smile
and the full moon..
prerequisite hand
invisible
holding mine
and not talking
not saying..
anything.

it was that night
i wanted to remember the green
glow of dashboard lights
on your chest
flashing up the warm skin of your neck
a neck not old enough to embrace it's own
youth, not old enough to know
youth in its dewy innocence..

the freon air from the vents
and the music
always the music with us,
made you drive and drive
until the morning silence hit the windshield
with the chilling silence between us,
it was earlier that night
we cried
our fingers knotted together
as we drove..

lets not be sad
you said
lets not be sad.

2004-08-02T21:09:00.000-07:00

hey hey
can you come out and play? twisting
inside crimson
sunlights
together..?
whatever.
give me misguided missles of love
and disbelief inside
your brown mouth...
close your eyes
and simmer
in the summer
with me
again.

2004-06-21T19:37:00.000-07:00

o girl
sad and lost girl..triste
swimming in the past girl
all around my heart like a sacred ring
of flames

in ringlets of moments
a tiny mark above your eye marks
the center point of my
spiral down
to the core
of you, girl

girls that smell like candy
leave wispy trails behind them
i long to follow.
my ganas are in my stomach for them.
they remind me of girls at the pulga
buying bags of chicaronnes
drowned in fire. red nails they suck on..
i want to be their caballero
in pantalones and cowboy hat.

girls in bathing suits..
heavy breast slung low and wet,
i can look and not touch
i can eat them and not taste
and place them back for safe keeping
with thier drunk boyfriends
who never drink thier heady brew.

im dreaming again.

mixed up messages that tell me you are gone
finally.mixed up images of you
in purple
and black
like a negress in a southern one room
church
humming low and guttural
taking my hand like a child
smoothing it against your soft plump
arms
arms like mama
perfume like roses.

am i to fall like pity at your feet,
child
woman
artist
thief

mary magdalene in upswept robes

green is your favorite

i'm not sure what to think.

2004-05-25T19:27:00.000-07:00

beer foam pintglasses
lipstained napkins
red and blue holy
lights resounding
closed eyes

sanctuary of bliss
seconds
and planets collide

stars hid their eyes

and music stikes one lonely beat

'come here'
and that was all.

i was yours
and will remain
until the final chord.

2004-05-25T19:23:00.001-07:00

angel of tonite

Oh..oh she sounds like the sidewalks are empty
the swing of her steps and
the ice of the fingers of trees
as she sweeps off the moondust of all of my faces,
her tears leave the traces
of the maps
I’ve been searching
all my life
salty sweetness
swims beneath us
with a promise of a morning
that will never come to pass
on your eyelids
heavy eyelids
I would kiss you
if you’ll promise
to stop dancing oh so fast...

oh oh she moves like the wanderings
in the deep heavy evenings
and the heavings of a pain
I have yet to absolve,
tiny children, they are beating softly
in her heartbeat thats empty

give me fingers
give me moments
give me wild dizzy breezes
give me backseats of wonder
give me steps of imperfection
soft footsteps and insouls
and eyelashes to sweeten

oh oh she cries like the meadows
to the patches of skies

and she cries
when im with her..
and she cries when im distant
and I cant find the spigot
and I cant turn them off..

oh oh she breathes like the heavens
soft im rythem like the oceans
and her baby voice stretches
deep
into my firery notions..

Oh oh she is swinging on the potions
of a wild poet lover
that has yet to discover what i now know is true..
when I
realise now
for certain
that it is you
that is
the poem...
so i ask you sweet lover
what this poet left to do?

2004-05-25T19:23:00.000-07:00

i wanna
roll all night with you, like the lovers on tv
i wanna look into your eyes and see the real me.
i wanna laugh and dance the way we did before
poor me poor me
you dont want me anymore
poor me poor me
why you walking out the door?

i wanna
hold hands like a habit
i wanna walk in step and rhyme
i wanna be in your pressence
i wanna kiss you all the time
poor me poor me
you dont want me anymore
poor me poor me
would you love me on the floor?

would you love me from the sky
open patches pouring down
catch it in your wooly hair
catch it in your wicked frown..

poor me
poor me
i'd forgotten already
you dont want me anymore
you dont want me anymore
i'd forgotten already
who's it that im crying for?

2004-05-25T19:19:00.000-07:00

Sky

grey grey smoke grey
clouds billow like cobwebs
thick and pillowy
crested in white and light.

Blue patch peaks in shapes of birds
slowly drifting
and settles to fluffy white birthday cake
frosting sweet and clean.

Is it only when im lonely, do I see them only?
Is it on the saddest days I see you so clearly?

Tiny airplane floats into the sky
its siloutte
filled with souls
among these clouds
it disappears and
leaves me dreaming.

POWERlines

Black bisects the skylines like
roadmaps,
thick then thinner
parallel and layered
threads pulled taut
some droop low
some twist and turn and fall upon
themselves..

so common I fail to recognize

Like us
like us

the power in your walk
the taut lines on your legs
banded in black
your eyes..droop low..
When we kiss..
We twist and turn and fall upon
ourselves..

So common, I fail to recognize
That
These connections
for communication
pierce and distort
a perfect view.

2004-05-25T19:18:00.000-07:00

She is
hanging on a tight wire above my heart
she is dancing on the skirts of all the tables in my soul
she is
she is.
she is
sexy seductive tease and smile
she is
Casanova and Helen of Troy
she is a fortune cookie ready to crack
she is
a word, a whirlwind, a smile
she is warm swan neck of a lover
fingers twirled in hair of black
she is smokin’ in the back
she is jukebox quarters
and a bottle of beer,
she is a million tears I’ve cried for a million drunken nights
she is a James Dean
frida kahlo
Bridget bardou
bob Dylan
chicana sin beruensa
with a belt buckle to prove it.
She is water color paintings in sad journals
love notes in a footlockers
whippets and maryjanes,
punk rock beats,
shaved heads
baby doe eyes
aloof and unawares.
She is a wet dream
unrealised,
a nightmare
a pink pillow to dream a little dream on
she is rock and fucking roll
folk indie emo
rockabilly princess in polka dots
and kitty kat shoes
spilling all over my heart like a
dirty martini in a hand of a sloppy drunk
she is tender and plump and full of sugar and spice
but she’s twice as nice
she’s pan dulce with cafe con crema
a sugar skull with my name on her forehead
she is beatnik princess twitching hips
in faded jeans
she is a muse of millions
she is a requiem
a sonnet
and ode to some great lost soul walking in all star chucks
she is a melody that sticks in my head
she is madness and mardou
she is sanity and zen
she is mother daughter sister brother father lover
of trees and clouds and lunch on time
she is pink rose on the floorboard
she is merlot on the handkerchief
she is tuxedo shirt and dress pants
and cowlicks
and eyelashes
she is hands the size of my own
she is my name on the ceiling of cbgs’s
she is sunshine on my toast
and wine in my belly
she is
‘sup?’
she is ‘hell yes!’ and
‘I don’t know’
she is mystery
she is star seductress in my main role
she is
she is!
and
she is
with me
and
she is
she is
most definitely
definitely
not
in
love.

2004-05-21T21:01:00.000-07:00

i bleed

inside me is a hole, a passage a hiding spot
a secret
a ball of twine
i close my eyes.
i close

with
images
of shapes and messages
i carry the words you speak
like wishes
i carry the scent of your lips
on my ragged hips

i bleed.

and you say that bleeding is 'holy'
and you say that...it all seems funny.
we look for answers but are too frightend to ask

i close my eyes
i close

and hear
whispers

i am a cosmic particle in your skin
i have rubbed off on you
i have left my mark..
i have found a home in the curl of your lip..

i bleed.

i bleed essence of
a life that will not create
of a love that will not take

in your indio eyes.

wrack my brain
find my naked legs and rub them free
on the loveseat
in the night..

holy night.

to paint you
to erase you
to please you
to ease you

i want to find you again.
i want the shield you forged to fall
to your feet
i want to find the outline of your small teeth
glowing
in the darkness.

2004-05-16T10:33:00.000-07:00

if i had said
it wasn't ok
would you have stayed anyway?

2004-05-06T08:30:00.000-07:00

ive got my new shoes on
ive got my bottle of blues
ive got my woman
my man
and my cigarette

ive got my twisted sence of humor
ive got my back against your rumors
ive got my woman
my man
and my pocket of soul

ive got my raging libido
ive got my face incognito
ive got my woman
ive got my woman
ive got my woman
and my purse full of tears

ive got my wit and my wisdom
ive got my paranoid delusions
ive got my secrets
and my questions
and my dreams full of faces

ive got my stories from the ages
and my history of sages
ive got my man
ive got my man
ive got my man
and a broken heart to prove it.

2004-04-13T18:05:00.000-07:00

Dharma Love

For a fortune of fantasies in my fancy
I'll keep you twisting in my mind
sweet
brown and twisting
in my fingers
and hands
I won't exhale the last of you
till I taste your lips again

blessed temple
of youth
and wisdom
Buddha mind and karma soul
you want to read me
I want to write you
like two hands drawing one another

we slip and trade
between bareness and open
behind the shut blinds
mystery charms us
secrecy surrounds us
and hands clasped hard
keep us from
coming
from coming
too soon.

There are no promises we've made
to fade
and the zen click moments of
your eyelashes
beat
the reality of us
and smiles
twisting in your fingers and hands
wont let me rest
till I taste your skin again

2004-04-12T19:33:00.000-07:00

Frida
you are here.

sitting across from me
legs askew under table
telling me to drink
another,
damnit
tome otro

i want to be the mescal
on your soft pale lips
instead
and you scorn me
and smile

fridita
quando vamos besar?
quando me quierres
yo me voy
diga me
por favor

(tiny frida
when are we going to kiss?
when you want me to
i will go
tell me
please)

eyes soft and brown
to tumble on
somewhere you are painting
with splash of crimson
and mouth twisted in thought.
let me bind in your gentle bird like arms

i want to be your comadre
your protector
your lover
your friend

fridita
take me in your shelter again
i promise
i will not spoil the painting

2004-04-05T08:45:00.000-07:00

prayer wheel and mantra
in rust colored cloaks, my dreams
say it's time to wake

2004-04-02T16:05:00.000-08:00

upon hearing the news
that you would soon be gone
my heart was filled with the patterns
of your dresses,
your worn shoes,
and silk stockings.
watching you dress in flimsy slip,
your feet
small
and notted with arthritis
you rubbed with linaments
and placed carefully in small
houseshoes.
black bobby pins
in your thin silver hair,
your watch on a chain
you held to my ear
as you rocked me to sleep on your lap.
sugar cookies
and cold milk,
corn masa kneeded in your strong hands
and slapped on black comal
for breakfast
lunch
and dinner.
afternoon naps in the long
hot
south texas afternoons.
laughter that bubbles
and chatter with comadres
over caffe con leche
and pan dulce or cake.
and reciting 'santa maria'
in the dark
in the room
before you'd sleep at night.

2004-03-31T19:02:00.000-08:00

Autobio
I am leading my life from the kitchen table
Watching the world pass by on its cloudy footsteps
Thru insincere manicured lawns
I know you understand.

I am leading my life from the sad plains of Texas
With memories of snapping powdery bazooka Joe
Bubble gum until my jaw hurt,
riding banana seat bicycles with cardboard in the spokes,
and in summer eating hot watermelon by the bare handful
that tasted like cotton candy melting in my mouth.

I am leading my life from the aisles of the bookstore
Paying penance to the suffering ones before me,
With worn out dust jackets and spines cracked with love.
Waiting for my name to be on one,desperately
Dangling from my toes into infinity,
Into another restless writers block day.

I am leading my life from the picture of mother
Still alive and smiling in her green cotton dress
Sitting in a plaza in Mexico City, with the reflection
Of hope in her gold rimmed bifocal glasses.
My fathers hands
warm on her shoulders, and
Standing a step behind as if he finally knew his destined space.

I am leading my life from the foot of her fresh grave
Staring into the impossibilities she left me.
The lessons that were never taught, the love
That was never reciprocated.

I am leading my life from half eaten suppers
Full ashtrays, and empty bottles of wine
Clicking computer keyboards and an ever expanding
Yawn of questions that never get answered.

I am leading my life
I am leading my life
I am leading my life
But Im too tired to follow