Date Night

our connection is electric

I know how to turn you on

a single touch

of a fingertip

and you are at my beck and call

bent over my will

when I hold you close

I feel your heat build

searing my thighs

upon my whim

I control

your every utterance

with the slightest caress

I short-circuit

your senses

my strokes are key

to your excitation

rub or grind

to climactic exclamation

Late, and Wordless

I dash in the door

breathless

nose running

apace with my feet

purse bruising my hip

as it jostles

bounces

riding in grooves

immutably shoulder ingrained

scraping the peel

from my pumpkin skin

bells are chiming

in all the clocktowers

summoning me

hitching my ride

on the witching hour

elbows fiercely pumping

I must, I must

I must write or bust

warrior word wizardry

diurnal commitment

I think I can

I think I can

I think I can

I chug uphill

slowly, brain smoking

inky black and smoky

fragments overshadow

conceptual constellations

don’t look!

my words

may burn your eyes

white rabbit scampers

mutters

mad hatters

 

 

 

 

 

Papered Revolutions

there was always a right way

to put the toilet paper

on the holder

hanging down over the top

not under, out of reach

flat against the wall

 

in younger days

she expounded on this rule

taught children

corrected

once, twice

a dozen times

 

in time she mellowed

abandoned lectures

explications

silently rehung

wayward rolls as needed

consternation flushed

automatically as tissue squares

 

then came the months

of paper carrying

her toilet roll

everpresent companion

wiping mouth and eyes

and parts no longer private

 

they joked, inside

whether they would

remember to forget

to carry rolls around

from eating to bedside

and toilet bound

 

she did indeed

desist

in toilet paper toting

simultaneously

dumping

obsessive roll-reversal

 

(artist: unknown)

Desk Jockey

daily I ride

the hard-muscled back

of this desk

with the flogging determination

of a thoroughbred

down the Derby’s backstretch

as if I were shrunk

to half my size

and had thighs of tensile steel

committedly I straddle

wheels of invisible progress

flying blindly around curves

at Autobahn speeds

pushing past limits,

self and other imposed

spinning the survivalist grit

besting Tour de France

pre-doping scandal style

endlessly I wrap

my future around this computer

as I would my hairy

arms around your neck

sliming my banana munch

in your ears, screeching

episodically hurling feces

Doppelganger of that monkey

you can’t get off your back

earnestly I mount

shabby wheeled Naugahyde

seeking satisfaction

in the arms

of a careworn lover

together we stroke

old familiar rhythms

grinding toward temporary

oblivion in sweet release

(artist: unknown)

 

Trouble in the Keys

I’m a little worried, lately

that my words are up to something

mildly nefarious.

It’s not a mutiny just yet

but insubordination

is undeniably on the rise.

In ways subtle and nuanced

these alphabetic characters

are skittling out of line

Look! these just

S  c  r  a  w  l  e  d their way over here.

They have dragged me into

conversations when I wasn’t

quite prepared and pull me

deeper in their witty repartee

leaving me to tongue-trip

in the wake of innuendo

flirtation or smart-ass comebacks

wisely left unstated

t

n

There was that time                                   e

g

I sent them on a missive                   n

a

and they went off on this odd t

e   r   b   o

p                      l

y                             i

to return eventually, on a h                                  c arc

 

Time and time again

I find I’m sweeping

up behind them

as they drop crumb

trails of implications,

connotations and second guessery

 

I arranged them in a montage

all artistical and fancy

they left me hanging

with some dangling participles

 

I have this sneaking suspicion

they are writing checks

I most surely cannot cash

now I’m hunting for receipts

digging through the trash

 

I crafted a tasty mélange

mixed metaphorical medley

they wrote it prosaically

in meteorological meter

like a simple simile

 

I frequently discover

my meanings have gone missing

between the text and subtext

context and supertext

(oh wait that’s superscript)

and while I’m fighting

stubborn formatting

the onomatopoeia

went swooshing off the stage

 

Sometimes, exasperated

I take a handful of the buggers

throw them against the page

just to see how they’ll behave

some stand STRAIGHT AND TALL

set to take their marching orders

others slump and fade

bored and disaffected

while still others

take off running

at some other poet’s bidding

the rest fumble

masturbating

while they wait

my misdirection

 

With all of these vocabularies

Mein Gott!

how did this happen?

they promised

eloquence and lyricism

led me out

on a cracked limb

all I can say is

Qu’est-ce que c’est

 

Hey, how did this get here?

Reminiscence, Posthaste

(with languid jocularity)

“hey babe, I was just thinking about how we met.

Wasn’t that the craziest thing?”

he grins with lackadaisical possessiveness

“I am so lucky to have you”

with the soughing of pining pines

she smiles, indulging

“yes dear. It’s a story

no one will ever believe.

There I was a wounded puppy

cuddly as hundred stroke

brushed plush.

Except of course for

those porcupine quills.

I just couldn’t quit

perforating the cellular membranes

of all who tried to love me”

he chuckles, self-congratulatory

“I just knew it in my dimples

I remembered my Wonderland days

swung my flamingo

rolled you hedgehog style

and ricocheted the sticky wickets.

tamed those quills right down.

I remember it just like it was yesterday.”

“That was yesterday”

Menage a Trois with Demons and Kittens

absent warning

no whistles, bells or sirens

they catapult you

through a raging firestorm

slam you into stone ramparts

you slide, noodling

down jagged wall

Wile E Coyote reeling

bruised and battered, alive

they build gator-infested moats

across which you creak

tiptoeing a crickety drawbridge

in breathless quest

of ephemeral treasure

they carom you, dizzying

to Everestial peaks

where you commune with Buddha

subliminally

they drown you, dredging

humanity’s sifting bottom

of decaying depravity

dangling reprieve, tantalizing

they tattoo themselves

double-helixed among your DNA

tonguing your undiscoverable

cortical crevices

conceding the logical

ecstasy of lobotomy

in desultory slices

they strip you skinless

to bloodied bones

with tacit accolades

in light-fingered seduction

they melt clothes away

you swim beatifically

defenseless among anemones

in the kiss of a lightening jolt

they careen you

from shock and awe

to ooohhh and awwwww

my words weave power

I vow to wield them

judiciously

The Chase

this stalking business

is exhausting

tip-toeing

stealthy approach

to avoid

frightened flight

breath muted

ears perked

 the sidelong sneak

pursues winged prey

flight patterns

feeding habits

investigated

retreats haunted

clues tracked

whistles trailed

relentless quest

for elusive quarry

she hunts

evasive poems

flitting about

muddied underbrush

Homecoming

“Oh no, she’s home! Be really still. Maybe she won’t see us”

“Shush!! You’re making too much noise. She’s going to hear us.”

“I’m trying to be quiet. You be quiet!”

 

“Crap, now she’s coming this way. You REALLY have to shut up!”

“Don’t tell me to shut up. You shut up!”

“Oh my god. Will you both just shut up! Now look what you did! She’s going to open the door”

“Be still. DON’T FREAKING MOVE! Maybe she won’t see us.”

 

“I think she sees us. I think she sees us. I think she sees us.”

“You are such a drama queen. She doesn’t see us. She’s looking over there.”

“OH MY GOD!!! She’s looking RIGHT at us!”

“Get out of here noooooowwwww!”

 

Or at least that’s how it sounded.

Admittedly

she doesn’t speak fluent

sparrow

Honey I’m Home

“How was your day today?”

absent minded perfunctory inquiry

 

“Pretty good-

Kinda interesting actually.

I was kidnapped by naked

wolf-nymphs and forced

to guzzle moonbeamshine

and write poetry all day.

The tricky part was understanding

their critiques. They only howled

in nymphomaniac”

 

“That’s nice dear

I’m glad you had a good day.”

 

Squirrels chitter-glided

corner to corner across

the ceiling

all through dinner