Tuesday, December 11, 2012

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

Monday, December 10, 2012

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

Saturday, December 8, 2012

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

Thursday, December 6, 2012

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