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1983-2015
tearing the rag off the bush again
Eight Poems PDF E-mail


The Spring Parade

—“Bienvenida Primavera”

And last, sitting on top of the truck, in a grey suit and trunk pointing up into the sky, the galaxies, the beginning and end of time—a kid dressed up as an elephant. Bored as hell.



The Night Before

I can hear them chanting the only song they know as I move slowly out to sea. It´s my dream of you: I want to hold your face in my hands but you just sit there, staring straight ahead. You do not stop. The sea is covered in fog. I am touching the head of a wasp, a tour guide stopped at the foot of the Parthenon. His charges tilt up their jugs of wine and churches float, in razor light. After we make love I like to walk through the grocery store and hide my body in frozen wreaths of fish. A nurse goes from bed to bed in blue shimmering light. Goodnight.



I Know How to Paint

I get your letters and I tap my foot. I get your letters and I need to piss. Standing there in the white I look into my heart: am I really so bad? do I only know how to hurt? It makes you sick; you can´t even stand to look at my work; it´s all about Me Me Me; I am ugly, I was always ugly; I have no talent; you lied to me to sooth my ego... You are standing behind me, reaching around. You are rubbing my chest; you are telling me I am greater than Turner. Your breath is hard on my neck. No one paints the ship in the sea so well, you whisper. Now, you are kneeling. Soothing me in your mouth.



Why I Think of You

crashing
in
and out,
your breasts
your hair,
the time
I spent
in the fire
of your long
funeral
song
your mouth
in red
slanting light.



Night

as slow
as a cat
moving

out to hunt
the whites
of yr eyes

as white
as the moon
impaled

on a bamboo
stick.



Moths on Fire

No longer
with swords and hooves
and drawbridges
clanging
in plumes
of smoke—the world
comes to me
in ants, swollen
drops of rain
a slow
succession
of bleary
tooth-
picked cheese.



Goodbye

with everything
gathering speed he took
off his hat and threw it
up into a blizzard
of leaves
descending red.



On The First Day of his Vacation

He was lured on to the boat by the clearance signs—Jewelry, T-Shirts, and Hammocks. Or maybe it was the color of the pelicans on deck. There was no little girl with cum on her face, looking up at the camera with big, brown eyes. Launching out, they broke the news: God is dead! And Heaven´s overrun with maggots and rats! You´ve come to the right man, he said, and he was absolutely certain there was uranium hidden inside the cherry trees. They stormed into the clouds, the flag of virtue high. Faster than you can say “righteous”, the fountains were working and the rats were out in the country restoring the fields and trees. Everyone danced in the streets, so grateful they opened their mouths and assholes like there was no tomorrow. When it rains, every prayer on earth is a butterfly. He smoked them all in a pipe. Nearly passed out on the couch, listening to the sea, it hit him like a ton of bricks: the world must look like me. He crossed himself, stepped outside and crapped. So began the 2nd phase of light.

 
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