I felt a strong curtain come down
Inside me. It was a good run.
Fifteen years. Strike that set.
We have a new stage
What a relief you didn’t tell me to
Tear my heart off
My sleeve and shove it
My throat where it
Can’t get own without being else’s
…………………………….back away here from where are
getting the getter gets
……………………………………never promise seems to be
then gone seem else’s own.
…………………………….Different loves me all
have and will and it
the broken string I have not
fixed all weekend on my guitar
………………………can feel it broken
in me and the music.
1. The Story of Our Romance? She Dreams of Me and then Writes:
We were flying this 6-seater plane into Damascus
& you put it on autopilot & went into the bathroom.
I kept yelling for you.
The wingtip hit a building and sheared off
so I flew it & it crashed into this river.
You were all bloody & wild-eyed.
I tried to hug you but you backed away & said, “Why’d you do it?”
You thought I crashed the plane on purpose!
We yelled a whole bunch & I suddenly realized my bags were gone
and then I was yelling, “Fuck you, Nick, I’m going shoe shopping!”
It was pretty exciting.
Besides the bathroom incident, you were a good pilot.
The Klamath was the river flowing through Damascus
& the water was cold.
2. Without a Word after All These Years, Siena Dreams of Me and Writes:
Nick is a world famous guitarist living penniless
but happy on the streets of Moscow.
It is winter so he shacks
up with heiresses at night but
they kick Nick out in the morning.
3. After Our Secret Berkeley
Back in San Francisco
Lisa sits in my window smoking
Almost all night
Then says, “Now
You need to let me sit on your lap,”
In just her skirt & shirt
Since our hot
After Café Nomad. Now almost
5. That’s a Bitch of a Romance
I forget to fuck
You at night. I
Everywhere at the Festival yesterday, I
Kept seeing people who used to be there.
No time for losers ‘cause
We are the eyes of the world.
Covet my neighbor’s
Enemy as myself.
Heaven is a snore, or less.
Pulled itself, said
It hurts but I still have to fuck you.
“If only you’d do it for free / I’d give you everything.”
6. The Bad Poem:
I look into my coffee cup / I look into your pupils / both are black, round / and when I speak / I pour / and both grow pale / as my courage.
Some text in this poem had previously appeared in poems published by Sukoon and Horror, Sleaze, Trash.