“hell
is empty and all the devils are here” –shakespeare
a
sea of stars, an ancient scar that’s pleasing to the eye
they
twinkle bright although we know a third of them have died
i
spent the night watching them
a
fourth of the brownie was suppose to be a dose
i
ate the whole thing
i
and the sky were an illusion
my
back upon the desert shore
an
opiated whore
the
sun setting in my mind
i
walked until i had an aerial view of los angeles
where
you have to go to a museum
to
see the memories of stars
the
last girl at hand was from thailand
we
were the epicenter of an earthquake
i
didn’t recognize what she made for breakfast
but
it still tasted good
i
descend
filter
into the filament
the
world is wide awake
i
fold the fabric of time
watch
the worry and the scurry
selfie
sticks extend
beneath
the winter sun
i
public bus to little tokyo
eat
at daikokoya
back
on my feet
i
try not to notice
all
the girls
their
beauty blooming like blossoms
on
a japanese tree
i
give up
light
a smoke
stare
when
you’ve been up all night
you
know that light
is
married to illusion
so
much confusion
as
we cling to certainties
i
wonder if Dexter would pass judgment on me
when
i say we’re not free
when
we enslave ourselves to ideas
i
dial the girl from thailand
yes
she would like to see me
i
became free
when
i quit trying to validate my feelings
*
her
bed is softer than the desert floor
but
not as soft as her skin
her
breasts are full and white as the cotton sheets
everybody’s
still talking about the flooding
from
the recent storm
while
i’m inside her form
redefining
the word osmosis
an
infinite kiss
her
hand stroking the back of my neck
if
to serve and protect kick in the door
they
will witness the perfect crime
she
says i’m almost as satisfying as her favorite meal
both
of us have an insatiable hunger
back
at an asian restaurant
i
talk to the thorns in the rose of her dreams
she
wants to repair my seams
but
that is the way of women
you
can still see the chisel marks
from
women who have tried to sculpt me
and
i am willing again to be chiseled
a
breath of text?
a
faint drizzle?
i
will probably be the one who harbors the flood
she
takes my breath away
and
suddenly the surreal stars
is
the surface on the lake of avalon
i
could carry on
but
she takes my hand
as
we leave the restaurant
for
another kiss i would die
the
look in her eyes
i
will not have to pay so high a price
but
a price there will be
move
along folks there’s nothing to see
but
the me i will be
when
expectations are clear
i
know she will steer
as
i go for a ride
puppeteers
with strings
know
how to guide
and
i can tell
this
one loves the feeling of power
but
the anatomy of a stray dog
is
calloused feet
exposing
how much he walks the street
oh
she can compete
she
just has to be aware of the competition
everything
in remission can flare up again
the
shop at the crosswalk has an outside speaker
playing
a song
i
take her in my arms
and
we dance on a dirty sidewalk
in
l.a. no one notices you dreaming
this
town is teeming
with
dreamers who would dance
to
the dictates of love
i
cradle a dove
who
has never read my poetry
and
my novel she has yet to find
the
ending won’t be kind
if
she thinks these gentle hands
are
the limits of my libations
it’s
a radio station
now
on a commercial break
we
cross the street in search of shakes
on
this cold and frosty night
she
yawns
i
forgot the dawn
isn’t
everyone’s bedtime
and
take her to her bedroom view
under
familiar lights
and
what was once a wishing star
worn
around her neck
she
gently places in a jar
and
knows that i accept
the
meaning of the moments made
from
this moment on
a
life that’s lived outside of shade
is
best lived after the dawn
and
with flesh against flesh
the
insurrection dies
and
when the climax murders sex
i
look into her eyes
drown
in brown while all around
the
world around me dies
and
i profess till final breaths
to
cherish and to love
her
fingers frolic on my flesh
like
feathers of a dove
***
