New Little Vines. Here is this week’s array.
sweetheart have you got anything else to say
the vowels want to know
if they can go home early tonight
step out into the bubblegum pink surf
swoon in the sugar-sea-dazed vapor
I’ll catch you and give you candy kisses to revive you
why separate them
when they are still upright
and having such a good time together?
you see the shaking hands the jerky motions
the falling mannequin sufficiently ghoulish
you ponder a store window version of eternity
in the starlight I see
it’s a new set of towels
he’s brought me for a gift tonight
my sweet tooth
draws the line at a tangerine cadaver
said the old zombie
Twenty feet above the bottom of the lake
in the blinding shimmer of sunlight
we steer the boat through the waters where you drowned
No one talks about it. Everyone remembers it.
what immense autumn disappointments
what smoggy mildewed breezes
what limp cornsilk sunshine
are you remembering now?
do you remember the hand
holding the cigarette so carelessly
the cuff of a fur coat falling away?
picture a stormy sea
rushing downtown at dawn
the sunrise illuminates the highway full of commuters
We’re doing bread shots from the basket
the waitress set on the table
Another glass of water please!
It’s thirsty work swallowing crusty carbs
ponder quietly, contemplative jewel box
tell me which necklace to choose for tonight:
the withered rubies gazing hopeful
the tired emeralds that whisper nonsense?
a bulky torso parked above spindly legs –
You are describing
either my dad or the china cabinet. Which is it?
a bitter drink
a staticky radio broadcast of weary piano music
a smoke hue to this afternoon. I wait.
eventually the house
and its distaste for its inhabitants
merged into a feral howl heard miles away
I hope I’ve got time for one more snowflake
for it to fall into my palm
turn transparent and dissolve
Stand still, tearful sad and grieving woman
I’ve got an answer for you on the cat phone:
Pick me up and hug me. I will purr for you.
the frayed shoelace
aging and anonymous
curled in on itself, distrustful of strangers
the vehement metronome
in its delirium
pushed the orchestra to the brink of a heart attack
we will swim in the ice water
emptied out of satin slippers
all night in the wild silver garden
I believe that
if you crave nothingness, this is where it is
next to the highway
plucked souls right out of their cars
the honeydew melon
writhing in the flames
I cried so often in my garden that summer
the roses were consumed
by my salt tears that watered them
the whine the slap the incessant itching
Yes, we live here on sufferance
the mosquito planet takes its revenge every day