What now

Cooperation only lasts as long as the status quo is unchanged. As soon as this guy gets to wherever this thing ends… he won’t need you anymore -Patrick Gates, National Treasure

Yesterday changed the game
the status quo shifting
from what was assumed
to what we have no way of knowing

What in the world was I thinking
taking off my gas mask
before the war was over–
dammit–

You don’t know me still
and I thought the truce
was still in effect
thinking–what if
we don’t make it to Sunday

Are we heading into space
because you know I still can’t fly
I am already in danger
of drowning for crying

That was your dream
of going to the moon
that was your dream–not mine
I always wanted
my feet on the ground

Crying and begging don’t cut it
it was you on your knees
during the good times–my
hail Mary pass
when all seemed to be lost

Speeding ticket

I am in the kitchen writing out my life
Chopin in the living room,urging me not to quit
for the sadness (over breakfast
and a hurried car ride home)
is heavy and burdensome

I don’t care (I said)
because of course
I care more than life itself
but if I have to give up my life
in the process (I don’t care)

Then what is the purpose of living
this strangling, overarching plot
that no one would buy
is dancing in my last nerve
threatening to end us

So it is like this, that you will
treat me kindly in the future
and I will continue to write my life
both wonderful and terrible, and
this is the contract I implore you to sign

Naked in espadrilles

naked-in-espadrilles.jpg

It was entertaining
the pain-bringing of my burden
lifting like a curtain

We clash’d and we were bruised
in sweaty battles and southern comfort
in the wettest puddles
ever had. Including mine.
That sounds very Seuss

Let’s discuss how mean
to not find a soft place to land
after un-relenting grey skies with rain

I understand you conquered the beast-
my second-best pen
telling stories from the davenport
melting the ice–left and neglected
the flood taking over the house

I am undaunted–laughing at the rules–
meditating on how the mind is the sexiest organ
and on how we used to be good

****

The poem is a cut-up or found poem from my own writings
The painting is by Théo van Rysselberghe, unknown title

If anyone asks

it wasn’t luck
that brought us together
or fate
and it might have been God
doing that
but so far I have received
no official word

all I know for sure
all I remember
are fireworks going off
food tasting better
and all the senses
heightened

and if you go
there will be no more
explosions
my meals plain
and without
any spice

let’s talk about

he doesn’t like
when I whisper
another name in bed
when I am far away
and he cannot be sure
just where

he doesn’t like it
when I disappear
during a conversation
it hurts his feelings
if I do not listen
or pretend to have
listened

wearing a new cologne
after so many years
raises a flag
an angry red warning
that the ground beneath
he and me
may be made of sand

my confidence
coming back after the wreck
mentally-physically-emotionally
being so long
there
then suddenly
here

brings relief
but more than a little
doubt

(are we) All-in

We are pulled apart
like soft rolls, baked from the same dough
then pulled away from one another
with greedy fingers

Our dreams that we put in the ante
are masticated, what
will it take to bring all
the pieces together again

Some say wise up, you are
better apart, with no hope
of coming to an accord, and
mayhap we shall come to our senses

Or do we remember and gather each
precious piece of our puzzle, neglecting none
each tenderness protected
I am still here, pass the glue

 

(are we) Guarded

I scare myself

(she said)

when I think too deeply, denying the walls and encumbrances held dear so long
to open the doors wide, dust the corners, and drag feathers over fine china–
darling–you are the only thing precious enough that I might
worry for breaking us if we continue to mishandle what is too fragile for words
and your heart–I was close to getting my claws into–seems guarded–the castle
watched by half a dozen guards and their dogs, and you, well I believe you want me
more than ever but you will not tell me

So I scare myself

(she says to him)

half to death, no venue to pass over to you the depth and lightness of my soul
and this one thing I want more than any (that I would claw you for it, scratch your eyes until they are
useless) and she, her dark skin, her caramel that is yours will remain yours–but I will be happy
if I only see that spark there in your eyes–that she can not have–if I hear you say sweetheart
once more–and I believe you because you are there for only me-until you are not

devotion

I visited an old friend
and I said, ‘where is your husband,’
she said, ‘he is having a mid-life crisis, and
his penis is in the garage.’
I opened the garage door and saw a cherry red convertible
Ford Mustang
and had to laugh
I knew
that he did not keep it in his pants
but I wasn’t expecting to find it there
taking her place. I think
she liked when he was poor and in need
of cash, driving a beat up Chevy he hated
because he was always home
and always devoted

Money

You looked into my eyes
and called them money
took me trippin’
over rocky-bumpy-
dangerous waters
and made me jitterbug
in the waves

You tasted my pie
and said that’s money
you said no one ever
ever would replace
what had opened
your eyes wide
what you said-they said
you said a woman
could never do for you

Okay so I can cook
and I know how to work
dem eyes but baby
I am trippin’ on the cash
drowning in that coin
trying to get to my throne
lost its luster
chaos in the court when
they make it something

make me trip for you-
trip for me-
trip so hard it’s chaotic-
contagious-
comeuppance-
comeuphere-
what you call money
might just have
a high exchange rate

but you keep at it sweet
keep it hot
and drink it neat
and look at these eyes
they are darker than yours
and the exchange is pointless
if you won’t look and show
and tell them
you were wrong

that some girl-
someone-
something’s trippin’ your
trick wire, and a woman
could really do that
for you

if she’s money