THE SPECTRE OF GUILT from Hot Rain
On the pointe shoes of winter I escaped.
Ghosts of Russian peasants had looked in.
They were sunken-cheeked and cipher-white,
And had me running wildly through the corridors at night.
Cinching their pale faces was my sin.
Nestled in pallets there were princesses and lords.
They were sleeping in the value of their youth.
Drunk with fear I went rushing past gold-papered walls.
Aristocrats whispered: How savage and uncouth.
Those peasants rose dead and I ran.
Toward your dreaming daisy head.
I knew our love was sinking.
It had dropped through the palace like dread.
Though I was to blame, I hurled toward you the same. I fled.
Do you remember the gold of those walls?
Our sickness is funny looking back.
Slumped over gin with our mirrors intact.
What weapons did we wield but our lust and our lack?
Poor souls reflecting to get substance back.
That night there was only fog in my head.
From the spectre of guilt I was reeling.
I wanted the hot milk of your reason to suck
but you wouldn’t wake to my scheme.
In your unyielding sleep migrating serfs
slipped back into Gogol’s dream.
What were you dreaming then?
You were my savior, friend.
What a rich hard way to be saved.
Into your breathing I came in that anguished midnight raid.
I still don’t know whose souls were dead
Or why we were betrayed.
Ghosts of Russian peasants had looked in.
They were sunken-cheeked and cipher-white,
And had me running wildly through the corridors at night.
Cinching their pale faces was my sin.
Nestled in pallets there were princesses and lords.
They were sleeping in the value of their youth.
Drunk with fear I went rushing past gold-papered walls.
Aristocrats whispered: How savage and uncouth.
Those peasants rose dead and I ran.
Toward your dreaming daisy head.
I knew our love was sinking.
It had dropped through the palace like dread.
Though I was to blame, I hurled toward you the same. I fled.
Do you remember the gold of those walls?
Our sickness is funny looking back.
Slumped over gin with our mirrors intact.
What weapons did we wield but our lust and our lack?
Poor souls reflecting to get substance back.
That night there was only fog in my head.
From the spectre of guilt I was reeling.
I wanted the hot milk of your reason to suck
but you wouldn’t wake to my scheme.
In your unyielding sleep migrating serfs
slipped back into Gogol’s dream.
What were you dreaming then?
You were my savior, friend.
What a rich hard way to be saved.
Into your breathing I came in that anguished midnight raid.
I still don’t know whose souls were dead
Or why we were betrayed.
STANDSTILL appeared on www.bestpoem.com
These are the blue sky days.
These are the blue sky postcard days.
These are the blue sky postcard construction site days.
These are the blue sky postcard construction site orange cone days.
These are the blue sky postcard construction site orange cone
Brooks Pharmacy SUVs I’m not driving days.
These are the Brooks Pharmacy SUVs I’m not driving
Iraq war I’m not fighting in days.
These are the American Idol days.
These are the American Idol pharmaceuticals
we’re swallowing to feel better days.
These are the pill swallowing Genome project sign days.
These are the zebra fish stem cell research days of better pills.
These are the better pill days for American Idols.
These are the zebra fish.
These are the blue sky postcard days.
These are the blue sky postcard construction site days.
These are the blue sky postcard construction site orange cone days.
These are the blue sky postcard construction site orange cone
Brooks Pharmacy SUVs I’m not driving days.
These are the Brooks Pharmacy SUVs I’m not driving
Iraq war I’m not fighting in days.
These are the American Idol days.
These are the American Idol pharmaceuticals
we’re swallowing to feel better days.
These are the pill swallowing Genome project sign days.
These are the zebra fish stem cell research days of better pills.
These are the better pill days for American Idols.
These are the zebra fish.
(Roses Luscious Tight) published in Terrible Baubles
I want to be a child all my life
Paint roses on hot beds of white
Hot potatoes and mucho calor
Mucho calor of the rivers before
The rivers before, the rivers above
Dolphins remind me what I'm made of
Drive me under those eerie green lights
Paint it red and high-fizz like kite
I'm a child no matter what fails who
What falls to Zero, Hizzoner the Boo
The roses from sticky polite
The roses prickly
The roses luscious tight
Paint roses on hot beds of white
Hot potatoes and mucho calor
Mucho calor of the rivers before
The rivers before, the rivers above
Dolphins remind me what I'm made of
Drive me under those eerie green lights
Paint it red and high-fizz like kite
I'm a child no matter what fails who
What falls to Zero, Hizzoner the Boo
The roses from sticky polite
The roses prickly
The roses luscious tight