Through the Dark

my mouth makes a noise:
     is it a cat?
     a child?
it creeps through a graveyard
its tongue pulling it along
     the great vacancy
     behind it
     a new kind of oblivion for the dead:

in mouth there is no rot
no bones to be dried
nothing ostentatious
even breath and eating
are from some other place

and it pulls itself along
swallowing nothing
soul's antithesis
leaving nothing
but tracks
an occasional belch
and a faint noise of invisible wheels

from Oedipus' First Lover (2009)

Outside of the Bank

in the financial district      the neglected cardiologist
count the prostitutes

the executive strip club      tears too early to cry
count the prostitutes

the sterling reputation of the corner bank  
the empty middle of gold coins

the last lava shake at pompeii=s last coffeehouse
you could see from the aquarium room on the top floor of your greed
where cattle graze on their passports and entire armies are invented
where memories of trojan air raid sirens 
are the punch lines of broken condom jokes
and the men in blind grey suits     fight on their knees 
with cardboard swords and shields of woven rubber bands
where death is conceptual and sexy
and down several stories    they=ve thrown images of you
like you=d throw clay onto a wheel
and dressed the product in a bright red miniskirt
and a sign that says eat at standard oil
then pretend to give it their hearts    and yours
and give it legionary songs to be played
by quaint belching rodents inside sousaphones
and aim for the gut      it=s the biggest target

your eyes      your living room      your stuffed toy self
your memories of canyon de chelly lascaux and your childhood peter pan
your stray stuffed heart      pounding within the cotton batting
	don’t sell out
	please    world    
	don’t sell out

Subdigm

subdigm the domivert paranant

from Oedipus' First Lover (2009)

1916

three a m 
the czar becomes aware that there are other russians
and of the moon     the memory of the sun
the memory of stars like insects in a field of dark wheat
he goes to the window     the stars are still there

far off in another wing of the palace 
he hears someone playing a violin
he relaxes     goes back     lies down
he didn’t know his heart was that high pitched
that it held in it the songs of peasants and children
he flexes his hand     getting his cavalry ready
he rolls onto his other side goes back to sleep

from Oedipus' First Lover (2009)

Advice Column

suppose you’ve been valentine’s day for a week
looking for sunrise through the spaces
between the black bars on a bank computer form
looking for months every day for a home for news
or at least what’s rumored to be news

do it with a blanket
better than a blank bank form

do it with the smile of a laugh
better than an information dump truck

your fingers dance nude in cyberspace
even if their partners are words and numbers

don’t be part of a formal agreement
be love
be love
people are waiting for you

from Oedipus' First Lover (2009)

The Eyes of the City

the eyes of the city
are not the windows
you pass on your way to the subway

the eyes of the city dwell
brightly in their own thoughts
thousands of them    all around you

you could love them
they could love you
love you without even knowing it
love you who are there with them
you    too
the eyes of the city