Old Ass Poetry 2001

January 2001

High-jinx

While your eyes were

bound closed

by vodka

I went about my merry way

flaunting my most common wares

in neon

Lusting for something

I knew I should not

Shed you like the outer layer

of clothes

(worn as a buffer against the cold?)

Pretending the undergarments of my depths

are not shared

Not admitting that I want

to perform my high wire act

over a net

woven tightly and fearlessly

with your help

I want us to cut each other open

expose the warm guts

and crawl inside

be borne forward together

as significantly as any two can

Is there any way you can help me

say yes

February 2001

The Betrayal

You know the feeling

of an unexpected cut

The fear of how deep

the wound

and what it is that

cut you

runs into your entire body

Flipping your gut

a clenched fist

forcing your heart

to beat small and fast

The feeling familiar

Slick. Meeting no resistance

while the surprise jolts you

It came to pass tonight

Placed on the block

rendered helpless by what you

have on me

The knife

holds no blame for being sharp

And I made you

my lover

So I sat

dumbfounded

Like bringing the cut

up close for inspection

to learn its truth

February 6. 2001

Sabbath

I didn’t realize

I had been holding my breath

so endlessly

the indiscernible hum

of electronic addictions

ringing continuously like

the squeak of

the lab rat’s

exercise wheel

ringing

successions of jump cut days

natural light

barely visible

through the ever present

shades of the cool

only enough attention left

to stay on the run

then I saw a prayer

drip from a dewy green leaf

And the world exhaled

In unison inhaled

Five long seconds worth of life

And somewhere

Peace

September 9, 2001

Defiant

I will burn brightly in this life

I will suck in the air

that moves the ocean

and breathe out violets

and mossy works of creation

that live in me whole

I will not be glowed upon

by the television

or lulled to sleep

by the moist exhalations

of modern dragons

neo-mythic opiates

who dig down with

their paper-thin claws

and rumble the world

with the knocking

of their wobbly knees