What can be done with this monologue-ist? Hunting around the kitchen cabinets for the stale crumbs of kisses, and white glove testing the cracks and the corners. The queen bee is barefoot and pregnant, with no time to whine, but you! Shakespearette of problematic recipes and balking blenders. We let the eggplant hatch on the stove, but by all means, tell me the backstory in detail of someone I’ll never meet, whose name I’ve already forgotten. Meanwhile, back at the ranch in my head, I read the news of myself to myself, while my ratings dip and you interrupt the regularly scheduled programming to ask a question, thumbing in a dime of ersatz interest for a dial tone of an answer from someone who’s not interesting to you.
Poems August 2021
Beautiful You
On a cliff in Greece
You might find your Goddessness
But she also might be found
In an apt. in Philly
At burlesque classes
In shirtwaist dresses and victory rolls
We all fight the battle of
Our body and our past
Our good minds that trick us into
Ruminating on issues that feast on rumination
Yet you delight and surprise
Like old music on a new radio
And these metaphors are skint celebrations
Of the wonder that is you
Before this becomes a homily
I’ll offer this benediction
A dim light touches the slates of the patio
Dream in your loft, never alone
August 20, 2021
Stop Filling Holes I Do Not Have
August 19, 2021
Poem #42
When the mists rise
And things are clear to see
I’ll know what I want
Or…
Cicadas will sing it out
Mourning doves will spell it out in seed husks on the lawn
Fireflies will code it out in the dark
A wind will hold its breath and then whisper it:
What you need to do is —
And the wind runs out, the firefly dies after a night of ecstasy, the mourning dove is a moron, and the cicadas retreat into the ground, with a knowing look that says, “We’ll tell you in 17 years.”
Night is now here. Insect choirs trade eights. The house has sleepy eyes and wonders when I’m coming back in.
Or…
I’m never coming back in.
I’ll wait until I make up my mind like a hit by a lightning bolt. The birds and bugs scatter at the crash of it, throwing themselves up through the trees, dodging branches, twigs and leaves, and murmurating into sentences and phrases -
I don’t utter them. No one hears me, just reading strangers. Hello there! Are you somewhere between the ground and the air, too? Dying, and yet so so damn alive?
August 17, 2021
On the Beach
Geiger counters begin to click
We’ve all been drinking for weeks
And fucking like mayflies
Smashing our houses and appliances
Racing the neighbors’ cars and playing chicken
Pausing only to kick some guy’s ass if they impede shit
But it’s all stupid fun and games until somebody loses a civilization
And now, sobering up, and throwing up in the sand, Geiger counters a relentless polka band, the uncontemplatable becomes the topic of silent discussion
Waiting for something you never want to arrive is so different than what I’ve been doing, which has been waiting for something that will never arrive, you. Faceless and nameless you
You, who’ve been at the periphery of me since I noticed girls
Lurking as a yardstick from first dates to divorces
Everywhere, yet never under any stone I’ve ever turned up, door I’ve opened, mouth I’ve kissed
Now would be the time for you to come walking down the beach and plop down in the sand, with that smile I’ve never seen but I’ve always known
My dear friend! I’ve been waiting waiting waiting, and finally you’re here! Just in time to make it all worth while!
August 15, 2021
