Sunday, January 25, 2009

tick tock goes the insomniac

The house is a sleeping beast
breathing on my back;
It speaks to me in whispers—
drip-drops from faucet leaks,
and little creaks from dark corners;
they echo in the hollows of my ears—
like stone thrown
in the depths of a well,
sounding and resounding
like my thoughts do:
incessant in their mindless chatter;
they work in clockwork precision
tick tock tick tock tick tock
so these dreary eyes
tick tock tick tock
tremble with dread
tick tock
and dread
the sight of the beast
finally walking
the light of a new day

Wednesday, January 21, 2009

the fold artist perspective

crumpled like a sheet of paper
you lie on your sheets, wasted
vainly attempting an unfurling—
you twist and you turn, and you twist
some more; grunting your gut out
in a grim grimace; what more can you do?
when all those billowing and swirling
shapes are there, up in the ceiling
and you are here, nestled in your sheets
scarred and scared shitless—
shitting yourself; shit, oh shit.

you are not satin, nor silk
like you once thought, my dear
as to billow, swirl and unfurl—
the thought just makes my blood curdle
you are paper; plain and simple
devoid of things that razzle and dazzle
why not instead learn
the art of origami—
fold yourself a hundred times
and be reborn : a swan, a crane, a monkey
now, wouldn’t that thought be lovely?

Sunday, January 18, 2009

death in the attic

a child died in my attic tonight;
a lone candle mourns her passing--
its flickering tongue casts cold shadows
on the floorboards, and the hungry walls;
where faded ghosts frolick with faded paint
in endless secret orgies,
by the pale light of the moon--
a cat stretches languidly at a nearby tree;
while the restless winds coo
a lovely howling dirge
lamenting lost laughters,
and perfect happy daughters.

Wednesday, January 14, 2009

just between our eyes

your eyes tell me
you still want more

of my creamy

so cream me dry
cream me more

make my eyes
scream for more

Monday, January 12, 2009

roadside haiku

oh wilting flower
wilting pretty by the road
my heart wilts with you

Thursday, January 8, 2009


I reach for my bed posts as you plunge
Your head between my legs, bobbing—
Like my rubber-ducky, i turn; yellow with fever.

Friday, January 2, 2009

the sewers

The open sewers teemed with rats and smelled of rot
That night we said goodbye; it stands, open, to this day—
Like my heart does, teeming with rats; smelling of rot