gazer

on her back now
fallen among flowers
peering into the blue
looking for signs of doom
a disappearing ozone-layer
maybe a spy-plane
cruising silently overhead,
sucking up e-mails, on-line chats, phone-calls
an incriminating tornado of information
feasting on fears and hopes
her most embarrassing self
she hums a nursery rhyme in her head
hiding thoughts from the evil gazer in the sky
(the way her mom used to hide her thoughts from God)
back on her knees, not praying
teetering on that edge between what is known
and what is not
she weaves images of plagues and nuclear warfare
a wry utopia
naked hell on earth
in mass hysteria she could hide
embalm herself in calm
and there,
will she find?
a home

on the sideline

woke up
too late again
too late to play
or partake in the whimsical dance
of the day
i have to sit this one out
on the sideline
on the bench
i get food
a box of honey-roasted peanuts
they are sweet- piece by piece
until they're gone
i light cigarette after cigarette
one by one
i'm a passive spectator
i'm a worshiper
as it all moves by
the intricate mechanics
forceful energies
molecules, atoms, x-rays, radio-waves, micro-waves
air filled with sounds we can't hear
the invisible players
all that stuff that will kill us
the honey-roasted peanut box
slowly filled with burnt out butts
physics, mathematics, medicine
nature itself
i sit this one out
ultra-violet, and
unfazed by the obvious
i want to create create create
destroy destroy destroy
i don't want to go to heaven
or hell
this is all, this goes on
day by day
i'm forced to get drunk

4:37 am

fighting my way out of sweat soaked sheets,
punching to the beat of my upstairs-neighbors washer.
it's 4:37 am,
the drugs i took have turned me into a fetus.
my nose is itching.
the war-drums upstairs are beating at 1000 RPM's
beating beating beating my brain
into pulp.
i fuckin hate everyone, i think. but
i must have said it out loud,
cause there is a girl in my bed,
and she asks me if i think that's fair.
"is what fair?", i ask.
"is that fair to everyone," she asks, "that you hate them?"
"it might not be fair", i admit, "but at least it's unfair to everyone."
she doesn't notice that i'm hovering three inches above my bed
the drugs i took have made me weightless,
and my nose is itching.
"can you please shut the fuck up!", i scream to the washer upstairs.
someone stomps their feet on the floor above me,
yelling something back- but i can't make it out.
now the old lady next door joins in, howling at the top of her lungs
like a wolf
hungry for some peace and quiet.
i have started a chain-reaction.
people are waking up
all over the neighborhood, yelling at each other
the sun comes up, and they all get into their cars
honking their horns, pissing sounds,
territorial.
now the whole goddamn city is awake.
and the drugs i took have turned me into a sponge
sucking up the noise, and my nose is itching.
for a second i am God.
i can hear everybodys pathetic petty desperate prayers at once,
and i hate them all.
the girl gets out of my bed
"get some sleep", she says
"who are you?", i ask, but she's gone,
and i scratch my nose.
the drugs i took have turned me into a God,
a God that has no control.

Miss April

i woke up the other night
in my own vomit
in someone else's bathroom
i didn't recognize the vinyl floor,
the dirty porcelain
and my insides smelled like Jagermeister
(i find myself in these situations
from time to time)
and as i laid there
cursing the my drunken state, i
gazed upon the wall
and there she was
shining in that harsh light
Miss April
like the virgin
but less holy
and there was something i recognized
man, that body!
it got me right back up
on my feet

as i stumbled back out there
into the foreign living room
filled with meaningless chit-chat, by
the strange faces
i looked for my wife
but she saw me first,
tapping me gently on the shoulder
there was something i recognized
"did you see Miss April?", i asked her
she wiped some puke off my face
"i sure did"
"her body looks exactly like yours", i told her
and she knew i wasn't lying
she's my best friend, my wife
like the virgin
but less holy
"let's get you home", she said
and i knew
that i have the best wife in the world
she's even better than
Miss April

inflatable moose-head

there is an inflatable moose-head
on my brown wooden wall.
just couldn't afford a real one.
i picture a plastic moose
going about it's business,
probably somewhere in Alaska.
then the hunter comes along
with his plastic bow and arrow,
like the ones you used as a kid
playing cowboy and indian.
he takes his aim, then shoots,
and with the suction cup stuck to it's forehead,
the moose buckles to it's knees.
we don't call them indians
anymore,
but a cowboy is still a cowboy.
i was always a native american
when we played those games.
but i'm drifting away here...

the salton sea

she says,
"you know you bring me down"
"uh-hum", i respond.
that is the best i can come up with
in this heat,
surrounded by boarded up motels, and
empty swimming pools

she says,
"you bring me out here",
her face wrinkled around her nose.
what she see are
millions of rotting fish on the shore.
what she see are signs, telling us to keep out.

someone is observing us, but
from where, i don't know.
she says,
"why couldn't you take me to disneyland?"

this was the riviera.

i say,
"this is the ultimate failure"

this was las vegas.

i say,
"this is death"

this was mecca.

i say,
"this is total freedom"

i know she doesn't know what i mean

i am dead skin

today,
feels like a bad drug.
one of those bitter pills
that won't kick in.
i'm in the air,
gently powdered on the couch.
when i've given up on the pill,
i take another one.
today,
i am dust.
just after swallowing,
the first one pick me up.
this dust,
it is mites.
today,
makes me sick.
i'm sprinkled on my bed.
knock me out,
put me to sleep.
this dust,
it is dead skin.

the moth

the moth
it hung there
fat and juicy, on my wall.
sinister black,
like a hummingbird
cast from heaven.
for a week it was there, never moving.
an ornament,
out of place
in the bright light.
it frightened me at first,
then slowly won me over.
looking so very lonely,
i didn't want to kill it anymore.
just observe it, maybe move a little closer.
at night i wondered what it was doing,
if it would be there in the morning.

then,
after seven days
it left my wall,
flying gracefully across the room.
calculated, precise
into my fan
like it had been planning it for a while.
and like that,
it died.
my evil friend.
i never knew it's intentions,
and it never knew mine.