the poems on this page:


< through the window >
< rose street >
< into the moonlight >
< cleaning the attic >

< pitiful history >
< anal sex >
< swimming in blood >


------------------------

                
    
              < through the window > 
            
            the shadow of the building
            moves
            as the sun 
            forms it into the hand of a giant clock
            grabbing the day
            and pushing it to one side
            
                      - - -




      < rose street >

    in a neighborhood of streets
    named after flowers
    you 
    find yourself on rose
    greeting me
    as i come 
    from begonia
    on my way 
    to marigold

          - - -    




   < into the moonlight >
    
    me lying on the grass 
    in the backyard 
    of your parent's house 
    looking up at you 
    as you pull your shirt 
    up 
    over your head 
    and your breasts 
    fall
    into the moonlight
    
          - - -





        < cleaning the attic >
    
    well 
    i should be
    but i'm reading an old newspaper instead
    
    it's a special edition of the new york times
    with photographs 
    of hitler's assassination
    of shera
    standing on the granite steps
    her arm 
    held straight before her as she shoots
    
                - - -
     



    < pitiful history >
    
    i told myself 
    i was loaning you the money
    you needing it most nights 
    sharing a hotel room 
    down on a street
    where i need to walk
    in my old clothes 
    pretending we're friends
    but this little piece
    is for sale
    and i went down on you once 
    too often
    and everybody knows 
    you're a bastard
    but i 
    just can't find any better
    and it's karma i hear 
    over the pissy smell
    of memory
    of wading for you 
    in public restrooms 
    and scratching your number
    on my brain
    while trying
    to get you back
    
        - - -



 
        < anal sex >

    and you can clean your ass
    with warm enemas filled
    with fragrance and alcohol 
    so you get 
    too drunk to fuck
    but it doesn't matter
    it's fun
    and the closest to a girl that i can be
    when us boys are together
    and somehow 
    aren't happy
    as we should be 
    being 
    just boys

            - - -




         < swimming in blood >
    
    we are all not just swimming in blood
    but drinking it 
    and enjoying its warmth
    on the inside of our throats and stomachs
    and the water 
    we always thought was water
    was blood
    swimming in blood
    i watch you 
    take off your clothes
    one shoulder
    at a time
    carefully revealing
    what is always there
    what is always 
    blood
    
               - - -
     

back