I hope they used Estee Lauder

I can barely remember your voice
at the top of the stair, Mozart on the air;
the days when, given a choice, I would sit
beneath the Baby Grand and stare
at your feet pushing pedals

I didn’t want to know what you looked like,
didn’t want to keep you that way,
still and silent and full of holes; but now,
upon closing my eyes, all I see is imagined
paleness and cheeks too rouged to be true

I stood outside the curtains, fighting with knowing,
coming or going, waiting or tearing them down

when all I wanted to do was crawl in
and hold you, cold in your coffin

04.24.2010

whimsy

laced appendages posed to unravel
grips slip, skip steps and stages

this is not a body, it’s a time capsule

submerged, inside it’s only pages
yellowed, scented, tender, tearing,
teasing and jarring, wide-eyed, staring,
blank and uncaring, anxious to hint
but someone is biting my tongue

this is my carbon fingerprint,
graphite powder sighs over silver

strong, distilled spider silk sings along
until white rays graze the surface

no shadows over my shoulder,
my chest is open, my toes are cold

04.10.2010

Opal Hour (after Medbh McGuckian's "Captain Lavender")

Sun-showers. The peak of a crescent moon
hovers over the artists’ chaos
of a sailor’s sea.

Major notes, minor notes, unfold their ties
together. You only half-remembered
your theme song, of a lighter measure.

Visualize my voice. I’ll be your north-
star, your soft-serve heartbeat,
your coral-scented island-mind.

04.14.2010

neologism

rhymes intertwine in pulses and shocks,
pick-pocket pornography, clicks of the clock
you were all but a word in the parking lot
before the new age wore you down, down

the arteries never found energy,
lacked forward momentum and empathy,
euphony meets cacophony meets euphemism
and parody, falling upstairs was only funny
‘til the rug was stained with wine

the metronome was ticking strong, but it was time
that tuned us wrong, and the piano forgot how to
follow along, the mallet, the strings misaligned

but your miracle was Pont Neuf, a sign,
my eyes were the moon, this was meant to be mine

NS 04.12.2010

The least obvious of erotic encounters

In sunrise, sounds evade our tender lips;
a stilted rhyme scheme surrounds the silk, the down, the summer…
in succession, a car door slams and a kiss is thrown.
Before them, the dogwood tree blossoms and weeps.

Your silence overwhelms me;
side by side with misplaced dignity,
conflicting questions court me;
always, I find my courage hiding at the foot of my unmade bed.

Eros has set up camp here just to plague me;
the sharpened tips of arrows,
the weak, the lonely, the codependent –
this awkward abyss, the walls of which we grip, is appalled by our desperate “us”.

I am going to continue to sigh,
for in our moments, cogitations should well remain hidden.

NS 04.06.2010

Not Quite Monotony - Experimenting with Tankas

A man with dreadlocks

spoke warmly of pheromones,

stance nonchalant, wide

open; and I’ve heard tell that

true love smells like chocolate.

~

Courting sleep is a

long-distance romance: I touch

New York City, but

he breathes in London; just one

small white pill before bedtime.

~

Epiphany was

holding a pen, realizing

I had failed to count

syllables; knowing that my

mind depended on a form.

~

Eyes shot open in

shock, looking glace chortled as

spider froze on face;

and when did my life become

a morbid nursery rhyme?

~

Heart halts, veins pulse, palms

sweat, breath stops, jaw drops, voice cracks.

What’s going on here?

Heart pounds, veins burst, palms clench, breath

heaves, mouth swears. You are nothing.

~

Buried in feathers,

je n’ai jamais t’entendu,

bare-back, broken exposé.

Ton coeur est parti dans la nuit :

screen door slams, distant highway purr.

~

One hot venti white

chocolate peppermint mocha,

please, with a shot of

raspberry syrup; I need

to wake up to a sweet taste.

~

Je me souviens

the scent, our steps, cobble-stones;

la lune dont j’ai peur,

left for mourning – c’est ce qui

me manquera, ton cologne.

~

Moi, j’adore jouer

aux billes, jouer le jeu ; et

quand je peux, je joue

d’oreille ! Et quel mot est-ce que

je préfère? C’est ornithorynque.

~

Quelquefois, on doit

grandir avant qu’on ne

soit prêt – ne laissez

point tomber vos yeux ; ne perdez

point votre rire dans le sable.

~

Some evenings, resting

on snowflakes, mind left lost to

wander through meadows

misted with white, I break

and breathe, deep, just for you.

Three packs a day.

Play me like your favorite record,
throw me down, play me over and over;
scratched up, so much friction I’m smoking
almost as much as your girlfriend. Now
don’t you pretend you are better than me –
you’re glass, just a window; I’ll break you.

Break in.
Break down.
Break even.

02.25.2010