Tuesday, October 23, 2012


Here at the bar again, bar nothing to me.

Here at the bar again, bar nothing to me.
Early Scorpio warm, warm village 2 pm poetry reading
at Chumley's
Searching for bargains, found a Paul Goodman book
with cat and dog and baby photographs
to give to Cindy
a gift of love for a fragile child
Still afright from last night's heavy scene
Wherein the police took my man away again,
This time with my blessing and accomplicement.
. . . A man is a hard thing.
Also a drag on my developmental aspirations
When all he does is cry and threaten
Big Brute Violence
To storm my sensibilities.
(What's frustrating is he doesn't hear me cry.)
Laughing in the park we loved
Crying in the night we parted
Oh, beseech I, god above
Why must you leave me broken-hearted
(and I know he'll be returning with more disregards
and diatribes and possibly pistols drawn to fire.)
So I sit here in the bar, again
Drinking sweet Kahlua and awaiting the poetry
Taking a respite, you see.
Oh, god, for this while,
Bar nothing to this troubled child
(for child I feel, though woman grown)
Let peace alone assail me.

Sister Scorpio

Black as hate; white and bloodless
shrieking Fury
punishing Saint.
Your patient, erratic torture
has left me broken,
bleeding torrents of pain
unable to move
unable to sleep
or engage in
polite discourse.
Yet you were never satisfied.
It was not me you wished to sacrifice.
I was merely inconvenient,
or too convenient.
Dressed in a goatsuit,
queued up to be driven to slaughter,
how could I expect compassion,
fellow feeling?
But it was the Executioner's blade
I expected,
not frenzied repetition of
back stabbings, epithets,
steel-wielding rage.
We could have been sisters,
giggling secrets in the schoolyard,
smoking pcp in the girls' room,
shooting up the classroom,
dying in each other's arms.


The forest is old
obscured in ghosts and mysteries
Come out in the wild night with me
dressed in the stars
Serenades from the Moon
intoxicate air aged in adventure
Exult with me in pleasure
Far from decay of leaves, sad savagery
That strange stained light in the darkness
Silence, a pause in cycling
Tender reflection in the settling sky
a throne to reign
weary tantrum waves below
I can relate
the deals reality baits me with
so overrated
I'm left unsated
staring at fate's rear
Now escapes me
running into future skyscapes
holding yestereves
stiff and strained
closer than this moment
as it slips
into one more
I seek that honest sigh,
that joining smile that art
of distilling meaning
Pictographs along the wheel
to distract from
its unceasing
an instant
surrounded in space
demanded in time
tells the reaper
is in the eye

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