Nineteen

Blonde Siobhan pink piglet skin freckle faced swan necked bubble lips slightly parted grey blue eyes

Her back turned three quarters watching African afro pencil geek

Make magic with wood

Irish girl knees buckling cross legged thin as her arms were thin folded

Between her thighs

Susan of broken hearts father fell onto tracks of an oncoming train

Mother always dressed in black

Catholic Nuns Catholic Nuns miniature soldiers with paddles for guns

Birds of flight vultures by day owls at night

Catholic girls in threesomes puffing Virginia Slims stood at corner

Lexington checking out boys

Catholic boys bad boy toys box cutters army knives followed girls

around the yard cupping a feel

  

Afternoons Catholic girls in long white stockings plaid skirts went home locked their bedroom doors

Sunlight pouring into room girl and guy kissing in another realm group of six sitting on bed examine dildos

Classrooms where students wrote words over their bodies “Kiss me” “Hug me” “Tell me you love me” “Kill me”

Puppy crush Puerto Rican girls lusting after emaciated exchange student walked behind him gang of love slaves

Orgy at a birthday party he feared for his life ran down the block bunch of flowers in hand

Eighteen

Taunting may I address you so you come with me
Pressed against the stress before us common cousins
Not familiar from birth but possessed scarred tongues
If not for coffee we'd be burning within conversations
These art vultures are here to crash death by caffeine
Polluted as smoke kills beauty and grace of Stephanie
German girl face white like yeast often murmured softly
Fell among us those who cut clean with palette knives
Seduced young girls into hostels to pose make model
In the year of the suicide kings we held her hostage
Pulled at each leg arm waist head with breath alone
Dragged her to sit listen to poetry on New Year's Day

Seventeen

On cushion she sat wild and innocent fortune in her eyes

Like moon reflecting lake on summer night dark blue skies

Face resembling orchids branches for hair porcelain skin

Legs crumpled underneath body she sat upright and thin

Looking him over fascinated joy of Catholic school girl

Exposed to teenaged boy’s erect cock upright in a curl

She noticed how he lifted his head up down observing

With pencil he drew lines curves oil pastel coloring

His gaze would lock into hers while by hand circle

Along paper moment when everything turned magical

Room aglow from light above dreams of making love

Persistent pose heart aflutter cornered beautiful butterfly

Had wondered about sex certainly the boys knew best

Together they walked onto bed left potion on her chest

Washington Heights melodrama he was more than lover

Never touched or cared to kiss moist Saturday night lips

Behind table willing able captured what mattered most

Allure not amour never a touch or adore falling for ghost

Birthday champagne splendor aroma reasons yet again

Would he then bring about an orgasm make her oooh

Bird who coos calls upon his libido to tickle her feather

Warm from weather drinking herself drunk time passing                                                            

Art fight he struggles torn between paint and seduction

Could he capture woman before him portrait of possession

He leaves it in tact abstract where there are no similarities

Binds bracelet around her wrist all complications dismissed

Sixteen

 On a clear day in summer a black girl wandered my living room

Let it be told I neither bothered to speculate nor begged an investigation

I assumed she had come as visitor perhaps inquire about the emptiness of my room

Sure enough I found her sleeping on a bed as I held in hand a cocktail dress

With the lamplight falling on her face I closed the door to reminisce about death

Following morning she sat at the breakfast table without a word

I drank from a cup left the apartment wondering who this woman could be

That evening I walked in to see her wearing the dress I had bought for my sister

Found helpless and bleeding on a Harlem street having jumped from a rooftop

I received a letter from this woman expressing the deepest of gratitude

It was not clear to me but it seemed we both were fond of each other

A strange woman I had found walking through the space I called home

She came to visit yet again the anniversary of my sister’s death

We kissed at a movie theater with the white girls watching us

The only black girl I had opened my mouth for deep and warm

Like a sister I her brother we held hands smiled deceivingly with our eyes

Ten years passed we never saw each other amidst the love letters and phone calls

I had heard she was staying somewhere in the Bronx called to see if we could meet

She picked me up in a car we drove around speculating if we knew each other

By the Metropolitan Museum we parked not knowing whether to kiss or make love

She would come home I would be walking around the apartment

Sometimes when she wanted me to I would make love to her

When she was leaving for work the next morning I would do the same

Undress her make love until she was pleased to leave the apartment

I don’t believe in ghosts but I’ve been told about people who die in tragic accidents

They go on to live elsewhere come back to haunt those they care for the most

Scent of skin would suggest the person within to me she seemed like a sister

To touch black skin spread legs open find love giving her pleasure

We weren’t in love but it was love pure like the scent of kin

I lay on the bed at night her sprit awakens me possesses my limbs

Brings great stress to this man I am the heart burning with desire

Body quivering tossing about breathing yearning to hold on

I open my eyes and it is my sister I think of

I blink it’s her body that hovers over me

The woman died in a car crash

I felt faint because in my heart

I loved my sister

But did she die a second time

Was it lust or blood

Fifteen

We trap our teens in empty houses fill them up with stars

On nights when mother nature skips town they slumber

Scattered across rooms fallen over floors high from grass

Playing video games waiting as Gino and Ruby make love

Returning confident and cool smiles wide along their faces

Bright lights burn white skin long haired boys Calvin Kleins

Spread among sofas burly muscular drinking in Lulu's eyes

Blondest of blondes tarantula curls under blanket love doll

When evening darkens the spirit one among them appears

Will himself grapple in purple glow until she yields her womb

Fourteen

I liked your face it was a place I’d been before

How I never thought I’d find you here drinking blood

1900’s Vienna where women torture men with beauty

Awaken light on Klimt’s canvas give birth to wolves

New York evening the streets fold into film noir

These are nights when love burns a hole in the heart

Thieves hump demure women drinking champagne

Had we been strangers idling by on lover’s lane

I would have stood half-hearted Don Juan speechless

Here where god is a sculptor from Italy I beg we dance

This is our Nicaragua there are no guns but we fight

Grandmother’s dress vintage drunken Louise Brooks

I watch as you fall the two lovers in Chagall’s Birthday

There are no angels here love is a prick of skin with knife

Among men malnourished intellectual victim sex prey

You haunt me dead flower drink me my miserable tear

I stand lost poet bodies buried handsome burial suit

Given time become widow read these words to ghost

Thirteen

Corner of barroom on Saturday night

Aimee and Jim resurrected the dead

Before them were people hot-white

Channeling the crowd at Altamont

Martha Graham gypsy dance for me

Move about stage tarantula mama

Angel with suicide wings plays harp

Lawrence of Arabia Elizabeth Taylor

Cleopatra blue paper cloth headdress

God Apollo musical genius surrender

Heal them play Slim in Cowboy Mouth

Gramercy housing our Chelsea Hotel

Wittgenstein child begin the begin

Make her into Patti Smith’s Cavale

Starving artist nude model Okeefe

We make this our Vogue garden

Black intellectual shirt leather boots

Demure light self portrait with muse

80’s Tribeca loft this is our Wooster

Easter cover girl Kokoshcka ballerina

Possess the spirit call it absurdist

German Expressionists posing

Twelve

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Eleven

In a room separate from her husband’s we would make love

Sometimes I would hear him walking the floor

On mornings when I had slept over we woke to sex

The husband would be chanting she’d tell him to go to his room

I had met him once while having dinner with his wife

Their marriage had died he was okay with me sleeping with his wife

Saturday nights I showed up with recipe made dinner

Then we found our way into the bedroom where we made love

She hungered for me I could tell by the way she made love to me

It wasn’t turn over this way and that her face when she came was alive

That summer she was leaving for Germany we had sex for the last time

Afterwards lying naked on the bed she pretended to lock her pussy

We wrote each other love letters had a few conversations on the telephone

Sunday evenings I spent with a writing group wrote literature discussed them

My lover returned on a Sunday not knowing I was spending time in Chelsea

I showed up late to meet her how upset she was not wanting to talk

At her bedroom door she pulled my clothes off put me into her mouth

Never had we wanted each other so bad given each other so much love

It was then when she told her husband to pack his things go live with his mother

It was then when I invited a friend over for dinner while she was away at party

In making love we were like two old lions bored with love too tired to move

I left her apartment at night walked the streets in a complete fog

We said our goodbyes but I would visit her just for hor’s douvres and wine

Not ever had I seen her so lost wanting to sleep with me but I rejected her

The evenings at her apartment became somber she would chant for hours

I tore up our photographs she walked up to me half naked begging me to stay

Saying no to a woman twenty years older a body of a dancer her breasts exposed

Our sex had a kingdom she drank champagne like water lust was her liver

Ten

Mia Bella  Morte

New York in the 70's criminal minds Bronx Way Lower East Brooklyn Border pick pocket switch blade wives

Leather trench goatee gun cocaine disco duck Studio 54 punch drunk thousand dollar suit smoking Cuban cigars

Margarita sunlight housing projects kill shot body bag cop cars happy hour gossip thirsty dogs underground bars

Monday massacre mariachis out of town paint smell pale pink yellow orange mamitas waiting on Juans and Ipolitos.

I hang by the bar with daiquiri thinking of Delores Romanyshyn a  Puerto Rican Italian who was the most beautiful. 

Her face Sophia. Mouth Monroe. Eyes Bardot. I look at the reflection in mirror back of bar I see Delores. 

Drunk the devil I am I see Delores. May not be Delores who told me I would never forget her. Could be 

Delores woman who sells at the market.  I want to bring her home make love. Taste jalapeno. Shoot Tequila."

Fall to bed. Mindfucking Ezmerelda.  An Isabelle Allende novel. Woman stands on patio long haired dressed in silk

Channeling her guapito. He arrives hot dust in back of limousine fresh from penitentiary five years done.

Walks into her room salsa salsa conga conga bella bella Ezmeralda pop popping champagne bottle.

Make love to me as if you couldn't breathe you needed my love to give you air bring you back to life. 

Make love to me as if we were animals we didn't know when to stop or continue we were possessed.

Make love to me as if we were dead nothing mattered whether we lived or died we didn't exist.

Hanging by bodegas shooting rag cussing bout government polluting our minds crime pays I tell ya.

Made more this week than I would washing dishes at Mexican. But each time he puts them shackles on me.

Wrist buckle pin striped fall in line head on up into the bin white control white smack white disease white rice.

Revolutionaries making vodka out of hog water scraping burnt sugar from walls of rent controlled apartments.

Money doesn't matter tonight we can play Monopoly go on out paint graffiti hop a few trains to Times Square.

Score some from  Isabella street walker lipstick love dildo lez  makes it with men who like it weird and freaky.

Bar bolero washed up done night people looking for loud love pissed drunk drug happy shimmy shimmy.

Backroom orgy wild thieves making music chairs rocking bottles spill crash to make a sudden burst boom. 

Loon room sophisticated chico chicas Harlem hustlers ramblers from Upper West Grand Central crash

Smoking phillies chit chat spanglomerican jive ass slow dancing something some one said blood on the floor.

Mommy Amore makes living off tips serving drinks to pimps cutting up blow transvestites giving head.

Hatian black girl stole her man did some woo yoo voodoo on his ding a ling wang dang ding dong.

Dresses up night after night leaves home comes here where there is no life people die night in night out

Two boys and a girl Pedro Ricardo Lisa the beautiful ones are not born they are made molded messed with

Pushed into corners they fight Salvador Sanchez Alexis Arguello Earnest Hemingway Hurricane Carter.

Tonight she had no soap for her bath took a shower piled on the perfume stood in a corner like usual

Poured drink after drink nothing funny about tonight Pedro locked the door after she kissed him goodnight.

Nothing funny about tonight she'll make some money for rent food stamps will take care of everything else

Catches herself smiling thinking about the future Pedro wants a job in  maintenance Lisa wants to sing

Little Ricardo Little Ricardo standing looking forward she feels one two three quick shots in her chest area

Touches with fingers turning red her eyes open wide face explodes with fear she falls down collapsing

Nine

Eight

Park Avenue apartment with garden he housed a woman.

Free to roam as far away from this place. Brought home

Whomever she pleased. I was one of many men.  

Came upon this man-made sight with gate flowers and leaves.

Upon entering found her jovial welcoming mid-day madam.

Coffee was love. A taste and I was won over. If not by sugar

Then her feet. Muscular yet feminine having walked the streets

Of Tel Aviv in body paint alone mermaid Jewish house mother

Mating is an animal thing. Love is priceless. In the long hour

That was lust I had undone bra. Made love to breasts. Watched 

Her sitting an overworked washing machine out of breath

Rushing arms to naked bosom feather-catching Muybridge

That wolves were kept from the gate I was four-legged

Delivering theater as forbidden fruit. She would bite salivating

On his bed white lotion smeared into me begging a howl.

I would stress her butcher slaughtering meat murderous heat

Claimed me as third lover. Indeed I discovered my heart

Rubbing her feet sitting in the garden listening as she sang

Amazon woman light as sand kissing with lips closed

Mouths touching feeling warmth a different kind of dance

For all reasons urban hippies dismembered unhinged bones

From sockets made delicacies out of torn flesh and blood

She cradled me caressed enabled a hug to touch not rip apart

Skin of skin shedding each time she lay tortured tamed

Seven

Danger and the strange can be a powerful thing
People fear you. And those who love you dare to approach
Kathy Acker was my beloved Jewish punk I a pussy poseur

Borrowed the heart of Don Quixote to save myself from Eden

Mother demonology first lady Eve our seduction began at birth

Your body half naked Demoiselle skin of skin burning within

Dead on a bed I sank falling fingers pulling rubbing me deep

Water washing her body’s weight crushing a love solution

Put me to sleep curl like mamba possess watch as I die

Down on the carpeted floor sick with scent regurgitation

Bore a cross that eighteenth year we were married mother dear

Met a lover on your fiftieth birthday cursed your demon away

Loins built of crystal broke her glass champagne orgasm

With every woman I honored painted perfect pictures

In dreams you were fantasy stole magic from the possessor

Sharon Israeli video queen seduction by cigarette lighter

Chelsea Kitchen where we waited on Kathy philosophizing

Language was virgin between us bludgeoned it word for word

Raymond Carver to Elvis Costello evening on Christopher street

She lured I pounced like disease syphilis patient helpless maiden

Life took us there into bedroom breasts abound monumental

I serenaded mouth on mouth nipple attraction the score

Birthday coitus her body fleshed sprawled innermost cavity

Mounting a Greek tragedy black Eros strangest fruit

If lovers burn with desire who puts out the fire? No one

But the stranger cannibal waiting in darkness fanged

Slept the three he at an advantage mocking all that I was

Sharon in the middle cooing looking in his eyes she dreamt

I chased him through Soho watched him trip his way south

Sharon I could never decapitate you not when your hair is blue

To love a woman the strength in hips cunningness in kiss

Am I less the man to have another lover want to hold your hand?

Mother seduced me for this I shame in closet an unworn suit

Six

 

Slither towards me oh mad woman of forest
On these church steps I beg your innocence

Come dear Delilah sit beside God’s love child

Black birds burning with words we seduce

Our raging sex wild fire Sunday coffee hour

Bells rang long ago for mothers to go home

Gargantuan wooden chair reluctant witness

Curvature texture of skin simmering within

Earnest desire in broken hell we conspire

That weekend darkness fell upon winter spell

Damage we had done voice on the telephone                                                                           

Regretting whatever pleasure: crows in a cage

Our love tortured was consummated on stage

So we dared face death in all glory and shame

I possessed otherworldly poet language-thief

Conqueror pimp mounting wounded mare

Molested body carved philosophical bosom

Hunger for doom indeed love itself had died

Lovers male female shaking the birthday tree

Summoning other lovers immemorial black

Candle lit room mother stepfather beside

Oh mad woman of forest this great manifest

Drag you screaming into the land of Israel

Come back as Georgia stand before a deity

Drums welcoming dance a sacred dance

Blend within these walls magic kingdom

Christening the history of our flesh

Five

Thinning as the winter was that year

Dry scabs weathered walls Mickey Spillane

House-hold pet tattooed punk Long Island

Drinking 60 ounce beer calling to witches of night

Bring to us Judy of Avenue X motherless daughter                                      

Devilish born to kill slept while they made love

In a black Patricia Fields people come to kiss your feet

You are the Jean Michel of hell

In a black Patricia Fields the world will wait at your door

You are the Jean Michel of hell

Snow white in pearls face like Kinski lust at first sight

Painted the floors with black heels Munich madam

Moon creature Jezebel tempting the hearts of men

Cadaver I stood born a victim her blood shot eyes

Lipstick creased into skin eye-lashes tarantula

Karma-crush egg yolk dripping fingers forming fist

In black Christian Dior she would come to wish me amour

I am the Jean Michel of hell

In a black Christian Dior she held a flower wanting me more

I am the Jean Michel of hell

Novotel where lovers go to die

We hung our flesh from ceiling to curtain

Murder me rose to petal

Pull with claws fangs from teeth

Grope this figure of David

Lose my tongue in mouth                                 

I loved you:

Decent into infidelity

You broke me:

Prince of darkness, Prince of light

Four

Zielinska you claimed me as Jean Michel’s ghost

Stared into these eyes for the millionth time

Wandered here with bullets in the soul

Having lost my mind

I don’t want to fall in love

Amidst afterglow of modern art

Lips like mine serenading Sunday kiss

You were boy and I a girl

Precocious fourteen year old hairdo

Learning ways of ecology

Time spent watching French films

Slept for what was eternity                                                                                                       

We were quite clever our hearts were clever

Never thought to dance

No romance but warmest embrace

Your body a bird

Disintegrating within bluest of arms

For a day I would have made love

                                                         

Our thoughts hidden inside a fire alarm

But love disarmed

Love disarmed and how did we know

Saving ourselves for tomorrow

Three

Call the cleft of chin a punching bag I didn’t kill him but wish I had

My Marilyn you left me for a stiff he kidnapped you up the stairs a bit

Rummaging through your disco dress breathing blood on his shirt

Like detective I tripped upon our love hoping and searching thereof

You found me in a waiting room attempting to escape the loon

He stood as you stroked my tie to hell he went forever goodbye

Designer drugs and taxi cabs were the reasons why we fell in love

From stairwells to barroom stalls we found strange places to get off

Taught me how to kiss but it was the devil’s tongue you dismissed

With knife in hand you prepared to take your life bid adieu: a sacrifice

Found you Dietrich as a mad woman in a place with other mad women

We smoked cigarettes in the ladies room made love in the waiting room

Two

 My stick-figure porno queen took me to a place
Where curtains brought in the sun our love had won

Not long before on a night when lovers swooned

We fell to play in a room what was a romantic tune

The glow of light within our bodies wrestled with might

Lust it was the reason for all that was winter’s season

Leopard in tights German blonde weight-lifting to a song

On Saturday nights I came to cook but lovemaking it took

To Hollywood or to Hamptons this was our dismemberances

Your Buddhist marriage and my bourgeois African dances

If flesh hung upon my window like curtain it’d be your flesh

Sweating and smelling like love turning away whitest of doves

One

To you then I save a place in my heart

An empty room where flies have had fun

Feasting on lungs separate from cabinets

Where we have kept our sex dead on arrival

Torture was commonplace; the massacre

That which bore a dimple on your face

Or was it a knuckle to my head, masochist

Cried at the sonatas of our youth, purple lips

Bruises left over from what could have been

Gardening after-hours picking at skin

Nature my darling is the bed where we lay

Counting sheep whiles love dies weeping

Is it art you want? Is it Venus of Urbino?

Could this sacrifice possess us ‘til eternity?

Lose our lives for the sake of stardom