Asstrology

uranus in the sixth house is to blame
for this constant struggle to stay
focused. cancerian crabbiness is to
blame for my permeability to such
distractions. you are to blame for
the first thirty years. and this
little game keeps me from going back
to the drawing board with my eraser.

To Grief

To Grief

August slips cool into a September porch swing.
Come sit with me and have coffee at 3am.

We'll speak without shame,
for we've been intimate for years -
since you found your place
between my husband's hips and mine.

We are one another's quiet addiction, each
the other's lingering suicide. I recognize
pain, my reflection, in your eyes, yet
I draw you in regardless.

You are my Marlboro man; save me,
but there is too much smoke -
summer stinking and thick with kudzu vows.

Autumn rings on some distant curve,
and with this dreaded friend, I pray.
Together we mourn midnights into dawn
on the whispered tune of our blessings:

Hurry, on the west wind to the seas, move them
with the tarnished arc of the harvest moon.

In Viridian Purdah

In Viridian Purdah walls horizon gray nothing succumb. Rich totality within Viridian Purdah. A killing city. Not for us living. Not for cool air and many DVDs.
For poor crazy wogs.

Rancorous factions in Viridian Purdah. Do this, do that; God says so, says not. Murmurs and frowns. Fumbling to hold a plastic control box.
Out in that, dying, poor stupid wogs.

television text|cut image

Indian Test Pattern ____________zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzlate night


_________________


__ Dear this love letter of yers has made my face collapse. The church of desire, the apse where prayer is thought, the epistemology of your body and mine across the unseen spaces of your voice. As you tapped into my veins, my vines like a square root of song. Wont you come then say my name?






















.

terminal lodge

Badgered by contradictory requests within the situation, and compulsive, as an interpreter of sleight hands, to keep, by means of constant surprises, the eyes of the public riveted on a replacement belly button or nipple for Britney Spears (who as we speak exists in family way); compulsive, consequently, as a day labourer to achieve a kind of "blow" on a small scale, interest invests as the American Idol throws the whole middle-class social system into disorder. Rasta man the alternative stitches unbroachable revolution on the marks of 1848 man. Rasta man patiently regulates people under revolution and impatience. Rasta man produces anarchy itself in the name of order, by rubbing for starting from the whole machines of government-plated holiness, including tasteful nudity in respected tabloids, and by proofreading 'it' while making 'it' immediately nauseous and nauseating. The laughable rasta man prepares in Paris the worship of the coat crowned as worshipful like the imperial coat of Britney Spears now in the family way. But when the imperial coat finally falls from the shoulders of this American Idol with sensuous gravity, then public wants also the iron statue of Britney Spears to fall to the bottom starting from the top of the Vendôme column, and possibly her brassiere too. A prophecy a few years afterwards, crowning this American goddess as empress, literally was accomplished, with tears and trammels. By order of Superstar Britney Spears, the militating statue of Britney Spears which in the beginning surmounted Vendôme was taken downwards and replaced by one of the first Britney Spears (oops I did it again) in imperial evening gown lowcut with barest midriff such as befits idols of America after serious gymwork once the celebrated baby is born.