Category: poetry

10/4/90

The policeman held up five fingers in front of my face. “Count these,” he said. I stared for a moment at his pale mottled middle-aged digits, then said, “One—two— three—four—five,” Then I ran back into the jungle, cut myself on overhanging branches, but I didn’t care, I had to get away. He was no ordinary policeman. I could still hear him calling back to me through smoke, the vines and poisonous snakes: “Come back here you, I’ve got to show you something” the policeman said. The policeman was an American, obviously, since he would not brave the ambiguity of the jungle. He wasn’t a real cop, he was a tired man, cheap labor, the dumb God sent him.

10/3/90

Sometimes I get frustrated— There’s a woman being raped, down the hall she screams like a bird caught in invisible barbed wire, helpless.

But somehow I don’t move to help, I remain frozen, too much work to move, the sofa is too warm, too comfortable to get up, I raise the volume on the TV, now I can’t hear her scream.

10/1/90

I’m sex, the girl screamed like a dog, barking and growling, faucets from the bottom O father / son / & spirit call the daughters down, wet thigh from the thrust,

The Bed bangs carelessly against the thin metal wall,

When my neighbor Old Mr. Blockon one room over, he says to his wife Rebecca, “Go down hide, A fuckin’ orgasm’s like a search light that I can feel it,

make so much noise, a man my age has to sleep, this noise could kill me,”

But Rebecca says “Saul, go back to sleep,”

10/1/90

The woman made love To a gasoline pump On the corner of Sunset and Vine,

Haddock shortcake In the back of Her own, sweet, And bleeding sublime,

But naturally the street sweeper Just smiled and shivered “It’s the moon, they’ve stolen my mind!”

9/25/90

Done, a toilet
once clogged—now
clean and pure, safe for
buttocks everywhere.

9/28/90

I hang my keys from my belt proudly, like a status symbol, like Mercedes Benz, like BMW, like Rolex until they sound my fat thighs

I walk proudly I am an angel strollin, Insignia incarnate, my arms are brown and dirty, tattooed by labor, broken pipes, clogged septic pumps,

I stand tall, kiss work plunger I’m proud, my stride is still and certain, a job well

9/25/90

One big ball Of bright red hair Hurtles top speed Across the parking lot “Die fuckers, die, die, die.”

Yet then, the hair stopped for a second, looked up and said: “Sorry mom!”

9/25/90

Poor little Susie Was in a family way Belly hard and smooth Little sister Suzie says “Mommy, how did Susie get that way?” Mommy says “Hush, just something I cannot tell you.”

9/25/90

Sherry and Geoff sat In the middle of The wide white room And slow swayed together To the sound of Stevie Nicks on some old Fleetwood Mac record From 1976,

They clapped when Stevie sang about the Witch, and

Geoff stood up, said “Why is it all Kaiser Permanente, even Credit cards got magnetic strips on the backs?

Is it a conspiracy? Is the government Out to get me? I dunno.”

and Sherry stood up said: “Wow.”

4/24/90

There’s something special

about darkness

I walk alongside you

Invisible to each other,

I can say anything

Like to priest through

The confessional screen

The words appear

green in the darkness

you must listen,

But in the morning

I can’t find you in the light.