new poems

as yet untitled:


midway through november
more hills caught fire

it feels like summer
starting--

crickets droning madly
in the night

hot air rustled only
by hot wind

and a moth found hiding
in the coolness of the refrigerator.

summer is supposed to be
dead and freezing

its legs stuck out
in various disturbing angles

but it stays and holds us
pinned in its strong arms

until we grow weak
cease struggling

become stagnant
and dry

and our grass ignites




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judith


judith cut his head right off
cradled it in her lap
like a housecat

her white arms bare
and fingers lost
in his dark hair

and her face was without expression
just lit by an ethereal light
as if she was made of flames

i can remember the time
you grabbed my shoulders and shook
allison allison allison
until i had to look back at you

how i should have scratched your eyes out
but sat like a lifeless toy
forgotten stepped on broken
and forgotten again

i was no fun anymore

i feel your grasp on my shoulders
your annoyed sigh
as i sway backwards forwards
beneath your hands

not enough judith in me
to devour you with my flames
to damn you for defacing
what used to be my own

pure and honest heart


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november morning in berkeley


not just because of you
but for many reasons
i feel i may have
put my mind through too much

it shakes like a leaf
in violent winds
and threatens to snap

saturday morning woke me up
hungover

from a friday night
of vodka in berkeley

and my mind came to a memory
of you
(lately you've been
coming to my mind)

and it seems it never stopped

the thought restlessly paws at me

if i had a buck
for every time i thought of you
i'd be a rich lady
headed to the opera

but it rains
and i'm headed to san francisco
for the day

i've lost my bearings in
the sea of fog

and the smoke of
too many
(poorly rolled) joints

and i grope but cant feel
the beginning or the end
to all these blues

only you and you
whether i am here or there

or in transit
between the two
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