Archive for June, 2010

Seeking Society (reposted)

Posted in Uncategorized with tags on June 28, 2010 by unsensible

Seeking society of demons near and newly damned
Horned things sparkle amid the throngs of avid ex-humanity
Teeth pointed glinting like the tips of many pens on contracts
Now collecting in adorable little clutch bags
Tucked in distracting shadows of curved bodices
or stuffed into the deep pockets of fine woolen long coats

Humans take shapes of pulsing stars glowing and bursting with rhythmic regularity
Making bonfires of their dignity to light up the cackling mass of party goers
Like Roman candles on Roman holiday
A titter of polite laughter for each volcanic outburst
Ouughs and ahhs and grunts of satisfaction from darker corners and beneath long tables
Darker eyes glitter carnal delight
An unconscious pornographic exhibition
“Because you can light up the moon doesn’t mean you should,”
Chides one long black-haired willowy fiend with sardonic ecstasy
No one is listening to her (and she’s too much to look at)
Shuffling souls form a queue for their chance to launch pyrotechnics
penetrate the darkness with one last ecstatic act of wanton nihilism
Tiny reservations burn up like good intentions and float away on the illuminated breeze like the ash from a roaring bonfire
On this last night of lasts and onlys



Posted in Uncategorized with tags on June 28, 2010 by unsensible

She grins like a shy girl, the ogee of her lips playing of their own accord with the rounds of her teeth. A smirk. A scarlet woman or a tree climbing tomboy. Skinned knees and blonde pigtails. White skin and eyes like the ocean, her head rocks, her eyes side to side, and I am adrift before I can right my ballast.


Posted in Uncategorized with tags on June 11, 2010 by unsensible

Permanence will be the undoing of us all
There is more to us

Let it go
You are a crystal set radio receiver
Running with words of every distinction
In a swarm of foreign vernaculars
Crackling phosphorescent liquid
Flickers on tips of semi conductors
Tubes of heated atmosphere
Snap and sputter resistance of naked air

All those ideas turning off and on in uneven gyrations

More beauty in outrageous actions
Then in contrite obligations
Let them go
We few
We worshipful few
Who hail at the feet this mighty artifice
A ticking hum
Current on wire
Invite you
Let it go

(Lips poised at microphone’s edge,
Wireless transmission begins, 3-2-1)


Posted in Uncategorized with tags on June 11, 2010 by unsensible

Locked in two threads
Hanging hand over hand from each
Holding them end to end
Willing to mend
Hope against hope
Like a raging tide
Great, inexorable
The Kindly Ones
Their single eye
Spied you a baby
And marked you
With the brand of Cain
Forever on the outside
Forever a stranger
A foreigner with no home
You protested
Screeching your pseudo language to the heavens
You protested
“I can fix this, tis but a cut,
Their shears are as thin as air
If I hold it tight they’ll hardly notice.”
But your hands are slipping
A slow chuckle like the growl of a dog
In the back of an old crone’s throat
They had foreseen this to
In fighting destiny you are destiny
They laugh
While you bob up and down on the tension of two strings
Like a tired marionette cast back and forth
You rise heroic
Only to fall again
And again
“Give it a yank love,
Make him dance”
Till he lets go

The Firetender

Posted in Uncategorized on June 8, 2010 by unsensible

She says she doesn’t believe in promises that nobody can keep
In the push and throng of domestic animals let out doors
Stumbling howling colliding panting in the dark
Grunting pain and satisfaction
One undulating tremor push toward the pursuit
of “Pursuit”
I have to agree
(Won’t stand against a tide. Only one man.)

But she couldn’t see between her own half closed eyes
Forced heat shooting sparks through tiny ventilation
A glowing liquescent heat
In measured exhales
Breaths between breathing
Fanning an ember
And the spark that caught from the top of my head
That lit me up and burned me
From my hair
To scalp to my skull my brain
To my face my neck to shoulders
And driving down
Like an condemned brick building
(Its occupants fled)

“Let it burn,” from the street they crowed knowingly.
“It’ll burn itself out. It’ll make itself small and dark and we’ll see.
The world will be better without her.”

So I took the spark home with me
I sat it on the floor
Began telling stories
It crackled satisfaction
The grain on my hardwood floor
A bottle of wine and a night that bled seamlessly
Into every other night

I’ll wait
I’ll keep watch
Without casement
Without tools
I listen
We talk into the night
(Bedtime stops mattering)
I’m warm
And the oxygen is leaving the room
I blink and phosphenes dance in my eyes

I know
Eventually I’ll fall asleep
And the dream I keep holding may/will go away
Leaving a mark of soot on my floor
Or it will wrap around me and I’ll go quietly too

But it can’t make me stop thinking the thought that I’m thinking
When I do sleep maybe the lights in my eyes will be enough
Maybe the patterns of the lights that I burn into my eyes will be enough

I won’t look away

Stripy Socks

Posted in Uncategorized with tags on June 2, 2010 by unsensible

I’m not the one you go home with tonight
That falls to some cursed Romeo I decided to hate the moment he walked through the front gate
With his dark brow a promontory and deep sotto intonations
Of “isn’t this” and “isn’t that” oh-so-amazing
And his time studying commedia dell’arte in Rome
Fuck him, sincerely, and the pretense he rode in on
(I wish him falling pianos and elephants from the sky)

No. We, we made brief conversation in the sitting room
You and I
I was pleasant enough
Made you smile against your better judgment,
while you scanned the room looking for more suitable company

But I can tell the socks you were wearing
When you slipped off your shoes and crossed your feet to talk to me
I can relate the way your shirt fell off one shoulder
How that line matches exactly the curve in the Arc de Triomphe
Like the round of your cheek and the hollow beneath your eyes
(From general lack of sleep which you tried to cover up)
Universal blue print of desire specific to young girls and very pretty ladies
You borrowed that dress and it didn’t fit you specifically
And decided on something that showed your stripy knee highs to good effect
Presuming to be cute enough to play off the discomfort that comes with all eyes on you

I drove home alone, half-drunk to my stuffy little apartment
Artifacts of art and artifice littering the broad kitchen table like so many ticking clockworks

I remembered the dark stains on the edge of your toes from the black of your maryjanes
And the cut of the line of the floom in your upper lip
The demure way you kept your eyes distant
And the smell of Chanel #5 mixed with body heat and desire

I wonder if Mr. Sotto Voice knows these things
If he paid attention
Or is too spoiled in getting his way to care

In the dim of the hall light
I turn these little pieces over in my mind
A little simulacrum like a doll
Till I’m too weary to remember proportions
And sleep has her way, as she usually does

Sigh from the breeze at the aperture of my bedroom window fills my room
with a frigid portent of early fall
And I fall against the bosom of another yet another night bereft of fragrant destiny

(I keep my pieces with me
I promise he gives them away)