realm without rationale or reason

(another’s voice, “damn near perfect”

my voice, “if you believe in such things”)

 

          4:30 a.m.

 

the moon looks like a broken poker chip

it’s quiet

well, as quiet as l.a. can get

smoking a cigarette

the can of beer i’ve pulled

from my coat pocket has stayed cold

on this december morning

listening to mogwai’s

“take me somewhere nice”

 

someone walks by

casts a wary eye

i look down at the ground

i’m nothing that’s found

on the list of things

that will attack you

 

the sky will be blue

while i’m sleeping

but for now i’m keeping

watch over that broken poker chip

as if it is something

the winner snapped in two

and threw

at the loser with haughty disdain

 

someone from europe messaged me

through my blog

called me a hog

for the lifestyle i linger in

i am someone they can’t stand

 

ah, another fan

i switch my selection to low’s

“i could live with hope”

drop my cigarette butt

into the empty beer can

toss it in the trash

walk away like the ashes

i flick off my cigarette

pull another can

from my coat pocket

 

think of that song

by love and rockets

“ball of confusion:

that’s what the world is today”

 

and that’s the way it has stayed

since they released that record

but i’m not confused

just burning the fuse at both ends

decide to end my selection

and play yael naim’s “toxic”

 

another smoke lit

another can in my hand

this coat has really big pockets

more eyes in sockets

cast apprehension

good old l.a.

i decide to play

tango with lion’s “in a bar”

my place isn’t far

but i’m not ready

to end this tango

pull a bag of takis fuego

from another pocket

joseph never had such

a multicolored coat

(even poets have to eat)

 

one girl i pass asks

if i’m interested in a good time

“i’m always interested in that”

i reply

hand her some money

walk away

 

i do a lot of things on these

dark streets of decay

but i don’t violate someone’s daughter

who has lost her way

 

don’t mistake that for morals

i’m the first to quarrel

there is no right or wrong

and we all sell ourselves

for sustenance everyday

but she’s not a hooker

she’s a human being

and i just can’t

 

enough of this rant

 

i pass a stumbling homeless man

who’s peed his pants

select groove armada’s “think twice”

it would be nice

to sit at the table

but i’m the whore

who wept at jesus’ feet

and wiped them dry with her hair

 

i just learned that no one cares

unless it conveniently completes

their perfect circle

cats are never purple

it’s an evolution thing

 

borders without order

explained by equations

very few can understand

and have to have faith

physicists know what they are doing

 

again another faith based system

we are considered too trite to question

we are an insect infestation

slated for extermination

 

which is why i’ve selected

giga papaskiri’s “lucie from paris”

lit another cigarette

opened my last can of beer

live without fear

that you are right and i am wrong

while i walk the meaningless menagerie

of this metropolis

 

***

look at who you are living to please

caught on the cusp of a crayola colored wave

the only thing i crave is a close shave

between conjoined twins

 

let’s begin again

in this wave there are no fins

from predatory prehistorics

mouth foaming fossils fermented

while the ancient gods of euporean culture

are arguing with plato beyond the grave

 

so why save anything but a lullaby

i try not to why

i just want to guide

the conversation to who should be on top

 

walking on blacktop

past bookshops and bus stops

i don’t eavesdrop

on any vocal chords

there is nothing worth listening to

except really good music

 

so drop the seed of your need

on fertile ground

i won’t be around

to wait for the harvest

i’m just a guest

who won’t wear out his welcome

 

i fondle, forget and become another moment

but for a moment i will make you

feel less toxic

while i stumble on bukowski boulevard

draw the sword and slay the dragon

of your desire

everything was destroyed in the fire

but i haven’t lost a thing

 

and love will never bring closer

just exposure

that the opening scene

is all we wish to enact

a one act play

before the gray becomes the dilution

of the clarity of black and white

 

so i spend the night

and leave you with memories

of how you wish it could always be

intimacy

without the afterbirth of responsibility

of all the things

you will collect

while you fret

on the frailty of your existence

 

i don’t believe in happy or sad

but i would be glad

to stare at you on a godless shore

the crayola covered waves gray

as the earth and sky

no reason to espy

just see you in the coastal cold

and realize you in the moment

nothing more

 

***

 

 

 

 

 

the difference between talking to me and at me

the world had wounded her eyes

left her blind and groping

i was the blind leading the blind

but only she was hoping

that what we feel could make love real

o.k. i told a lie

cause when i looked into her eyes

all i did was sigh

her long bangs that would hang

and hide her eyes from me

my fingers brushed with careful aim

till both her eyes i could see

 

for once the eyes took center stage

it took awhile before i noticed

both her breasts perfect without guile

or her skin the china moon

had made its kin

with its own hue

 

but worse yet was the reflect

from pools within her eyes

i saw myself beyond the sex

profoundly wise and yet perplexed

that truism are for the unwise

and yet i’d gladly compromise

to know love without dignity

 

because there’s no one like me

 

she was not lost neither am i

but love is just a spider web

we play each strand like angel harps

schooled in every flow and ebb

 

like the spider on fly that comes to feed

i really only have one need

that i am loved for who i am

i push away amid demand

 

i’m not a rapist so i know

when inside her she will bestow

an acceptance given rare

amid her heart gentle and fair

 

but love is quite a different thing

when afterwards the lingering

is conversation i conceal

cause every law i have repealed

and challenge all you think you know

freezing your warmth and inner glow

cause sutured syllables are all i see

reality’s what you perceive

 

but back to her and who i am

i am a sacrificial lamb

discontent with your repent

love is neither earned nor lent

but four sad eyes without disguise

no need to lie or compromise

or be what someone else will need

photosynthesis for the seed

but i am me and she is her

nothing deleted or deferred

just an embrace without erase

to earn the favor of your grace

 

so when i led her from the party

idiots idealizing evolution’s astarte

we both embraced only the moment

neither being the others past atonement

 

and when we woke all that we spoke

was naked flesh and cigarette smoke

she was she and i was me

and neither was by a decree

and like the blindness of her bangs

for the moment we both hang

with each other

is as is

neither taking

neither gives

definition and expectation gone

for the moment or for how long

 

***

 

 

 

unable to overcome the omniscient of my own existence

(terrified by the silence of infinite spaces – pascal)

 

subtle charms

in her arms

the scales of my skin

pressed

against her silken flesh

 

her breasts

weren’t an accident of evolution

only a god could divine

 

however fleeting

this moment is

the fulfillment of all need

ecstasy

erasing how long it has been

since my skin

has been inside a woman

 

even the banishment to her balcony

to mix my breath with after sex cigarette

cannot extinguish the glow

brighter then the tip of my smoke

but i can’t help equate the ashes

with the words i will try to find

when i realign by her side

 

i do not know her

ever as i flowed into her

we were strangers

 

like the ad you are forced to skip

because you don’t have a subscription

to hear the song commercial free

not because you can’t afford it

but because you don’t want to be bothered

with signing up and having to make monthly payments

 

i look at the pavement below

and know i will be on it

tonight or at first light

 

somewhere there’s a bottle i haven’t paid for

yet

and outside is the designated smoking area

for l.a. cigarettes

 

for though i’ve tried to touch the sky

i cultivate lies

with nothing to say

on these dark streets of decay

 

i take my naked

back to her form

beneath unfolded sheets

experience momentary defeat

as she slips her arm around my neck

 

forcing me into the chains of her lips

i make the sheet slip

off her fragileness

while my manhood unfurls to full mast

mocking the pretense of my strength

exposing me as the weaker sex

i caress until nothing remains untouched

sex is double dutch

when done right

we both pay our fair share

the part of my brain that cares

is numbed by the drug

that paralyzes me

in the center of her web

and this time there’s no instead

no balcony or cigarette

i just spoon within the cocoon

that envelopes me into the oneness

of a single being in a queen sized bed

 

i fumble to grasp something

that will unclasp

and recite in the last vestiges of my mind

lyrics by david bryne

“years ago

i was an angry young man

and i’d pretend that i was a billboard

standing tall by the side of the road

i fell in love with the beautiful highway”

 

but my mind is now out of breath

and needs mouth to mouth before i die

all she does is sigh

and i skip the double summersault

as i dive in

 

again

 

my skin saturated

by what surrounds

 

will i write of unrequited love

the feather plucked

from the wings of a dove

when sunlight illuminates the fear

that can hide in the darkness

because no shadows are cast

or will we devour each other for breakfast

will any part of me lair

beyond this linger

i can never put a finger

on what is wrong

which is why i put my

finger on everything

and sing

“has anyone ever written anything for you?”

by stevie nicks

 

no one has for me

but here i am writing for her

and the struggle i juggle

the me i can’t help but be

and the me you need me to be

a decree i cannot make cannon

because the fanon

worn by the pope at mass

is not my leaves of grass

as i sing of the open road

 

you are the princess and i am the toad

and your kiss will leave you remiss

because i am not a fairy tale prince

and you will only be stuck with a reptile

forked tongue and vile

who will not be dissatisfied with you

but with your dissatisfaction with me

 

because after all the issue isn’t you

every man at the bar promised to be true

to know what i have known tonight

but there are no departure flights

from my landing strip

i am only equipped to conceive

there is no way we are suppose to be

no reality

no absolutes, no truth

just wishful thinking

a perceive, answers that can only be relative

 

and yet i give it another try

illicit another sigh

no longer understand

why you could never love me

but perceive a diction filled with conviction

that has forgotten the existential café

filled with parisian 1933 apricots

 

and can hold you without feeling

i must first be flayed and sautéed

seasoned to taste

savored slow

until you realize there is nothing left

but dirty dishes

should have gone out to eat

like you did tonight

 

i am great with the momentary delights

but soon you will see i am the only one

with no long term concerns

because beyond the immediate bombardment

of my senses

nothing exists

not tomorrow’s hangover

consequence is a perception

thoughts give birth to deception

and as your mouth replaces your hand

upon my engorged

i surrender the stupidity of searching

to those who get paid

to tell you what to think

 

***