Thursday, April 9, 2009

Don we never our straight apparel

I used to be a writer,



I, for one, for many, am glad that Vermont overturned its ban on gay marriage.
I, for one, for many, am glad that my school has passed the measure to include transgender.


I went back home to New Jersey for the first time in a year.
When my older sister saw me, she cried.
A year is too long.

Grandma tossed birthday cake at her guests and she said that she was done, she's passing on the torch.
Aunt Karen had left and so had Keith.
I held Aunt Linda while she cried and knew that

a year is too long to go.

These people, they need me.


Neon is in, peasant shirts are out.


Trip-wired brain, get out get inside
find cover
ups from the shadow
puppets not for children
disappearing veal in the sewer system


My seatbelt
Grim ribbons on the breast,
handholding the wheel, I switch dials
and lanes through the ghost towns of Pennsylvania,
inverting their roofs in rebellion,
for sale signs sprinkle the yellow cake fields
and the cops watch us disappear from construction stretches and tunnel entrances.


I suppose the older I get, the less serious I become about the world.

Medicating myself to "normalcy,"
straying from my true frequency,

moaning subsequently,

blubbering sequentially,

falling into the only comfort of my arms where I see nothing will change because nobody else believes that it can.

We are the skeletons reaching for the prison cell door, slightly ajar,
and you refuse to move just because of your bones?

How quickly we forget the sixties.


Everyone wants to own me
or see me dead


Hail to the Mountain whore
a hole with irregular menstruation
magma seeping from the skin


Red Heathers- Hold me close

Hellowl, hold me back, if you said
to, I'd follow, give you my organs,
fried skin served as rare flambe, it's
no wonder I'm a mess, close to the skin
you hold me back from


Headless dog


As the ringleader of the backyard circus,
I trained you to jump through the pink hula hoop
and in the final act, I was a canary bird
that jumped knees to the dirt

and Mom watched with the cordless on the wooden steps

My mother, the human cordless phone,
join the brown and red candy cane circus
and don't let your man kill the ivy on the side of the garage.
He'll take the elves down with it and magic will never return to this place.


I am an angel, but spare me the connotations
and ask me a question.

I can help you and I will.

Tell me what you know and I'll tell you how it is.

Tell me how it is and I'll tell you how it will be.

But don't tell me a thing and you will stay where you are.


That's no bird, I should know.


I thought I saw you in a dream
the military was taking down the zombies
and I tucked a 9 milimeter in my ass crack
that took one down

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