Tuesday, May 25, 2010

Rocket Strumming


Automatic relax and tantric

Oh oh oh

Strumming

Drumming

Treats and grace

Wake

The day and be burned

Break the buttercups

And smell the dreams

That bend with the sun

Then rise with the rockets

Dreams of babies, gone

I can crack the barrier

And the bell drum—

I can’t be happy-go-lucky

Until the rockets fly

Tickle with out a giggle

Take as much

As you can

Because it’s gone

So fast

It takes more than organic fuel

To build the blood in a being

It’s a smile and a beat and it’s

KEEPING GOING

Where’s all the good?

The pretty good,

The good to go?

Where do the rockets

fly, fly, fly?

All the dreams have passed

Who couldn’t keep it safe?

I can’t be blamed

For nothing anymore

Been a long time

Since you’ve really

Been around

Thursday, May 20, 2010

Kissing in public was twice as sweet




My nerves feel like they’ve woken

from sweet dreams.

Came a long way, the wind

caught up with me.


There’s an ache in my stomach.

How long can I try

to find a sense of love—

as a verb.


I would trade these cigarettes

for peppermint breath

but I’ve been smoking since

they stopped making cassettes.


Only once I’ve hoped for

a pregnancy test to be

positive.

I had to whisper liar

until I convinced myself the word

was directed at my desire,

not the pee-drenched plastic

between my fingers.


Time gave me new sleep habits.


Throbbing moved from my stomach

up through my heart

and into my mind.

If I look in the mirror keenly enough

I can push it slowly through

my contracted pupils.


I stopped singing loudly.


I should have ran around

screaming proudly

at the top of my lungs.

Instead I cry harder—

longer.


How did my fingertips stop reaching for idealism?

My palms sweat self-deprecation

and I cannot escape the gravity

of our love’s mortality.