Childish Tales

I wrote a word of answer and compliment on a leaf out of my pocketbook, day upon my dress
as you were arranging yourself around the dark; there were even a few voluptuous flowers climbing into the fountain
their funny eyes cartooning you

how long will we stay in this heading

an old battery on a young body. the broken head.

you know how I hate to come here
just to peel your orange

Merry Xmas, Baby ..

*cause you'll always be -baby- to me*


XO

Friday, December 22, 2006

Ha! I Hope You Fucking Starve!



Not really. I just drop more ashes on my pink

Hey, stay in your darkness and I'll stay in mine. The only way out of the box is to break it.

But I admit

sometimes I think of how you were when you were kind

the way you made me laugh.

I suppose your eyes are still the perfect mud for my wings to sink into



..///.///.../

12/17/06

Now You Say I Hold The Key



of course I do
my foot hooked to this bar stool
brain
drooling

shot glasses stacked
like poker chips

I'm a burglar
with a calisthenic soul
I have a crooked face
and a large milky bed
you can rest there
still as a toy
and in the morning
I'll put on my white dress
and dust your skin

we'll be eggs
fat as generals
solid as blood

we'll be each others trigger-
happy punctuation