Thursday, May 20, 2010

Holy Rollers - Sunday Morning TV

such fervent hearts
cannot call forth
a response from God,

what hope is there
for a half-hearted
doubter like me?

Beneath the moving stars
cycling through aeons -
crazy beautiful -

I'm lookin' at the sun,
comin' in strong as strong
over shadow hills,
making its own golden well
to soak in,

rolling it out over the wet grass,
the low horizon still dark with sleep -

so beautiful it's making me think of Michael,
and how he will never see this.

Friday, May 07, 2010


Sometimes I think, right, that's it,
I'm not going to eat any more.
I'm just too fat, it's ridiculous,

I make plans for survival without food
and engage with life renewed/refreshed.

Then late afternoon, after
laundry, dishes, shower,
scrubbing bathroom,
rushing home eating a sandwich
and danish I grabbed from a cafe
I remember mid-bite -
it's then I understand bulimics.

Sometimes I wish I were a starfish,
or something spiny with no flesh,
in a tidal pool, where waves glide
back and forth, back and forth,

and no one to point me
to the fat ladies section
where I'll find jeans in my size.

Scientific Method

I have the fat heart,
suckled on love juices,
swollen in my chest.

Doctors measure with their machines,
size, rhythm, flow, staying power,
and shake their heads, tut tut.

Shut out the wild world
with its infinite breezes
pulling this way and that.

Broken topography of cities,
people in pieces, birthed in ruins.
Angels indeterminate
beneath slick facades.

Doctors with long probes
and ticker tapes of doom converge,
but I am listenenig to the universe within.
The succulent honey of love sustains.



About three weeks after her death
Lucy finally acheived the figure
she had always wanted.


Fuck me till my buttons fly off
in every direction.

I want to know you're there -
like Aries, God of Ram.

Make me feel something.

Butterfly Chase

Sleep is a blue butterfly
lazing above the pointed tips
of water-flower stars

far away
in the middle of the pond.