new poems
Anatomy
Take a needle and thread my veins
Sew my fingers to my hands
And my sinews to muscle
Tie me tight
My heart to the sky and my ear to the ground
Mend my broken seems wherever they've burst
Put buckets beneath my body to catch all the leaks
Like rain seeping through the swollen, wooden ceiling
Tattoo me and pierce me and drive nails through my nones
To build a home out of this boy
Put hinges in my ribcage so you can open my chest and crawl inside
Reenforce my spine with supports and beams
Paint this white skin and add on some shutters
Lay brick about my head for the chimney out of which I will blow my steam
Do these things
Do them well
Make me the place where you'd like to live
Yes, do all of these things
And do them with your hands
Ghosts Made Of Gold
Oh, Laura,
Don't slow down
And neither will I
Let our hearts beat like metronomes
And store up the water in the ducts of our eyes
Like the humps of a camel
I hear you sing
And I wake up under tables
Or on the sidewalk
Of some forgotten street
Running through some forgotten town
And if you asked me to bring you I'd have to decline
And if you asked me where I was, I'd have to tell you
"I forgot"
Well have you forgotten that couch in little Puerto Rico
Or that kitchen in Connecticut?
Or do your ghosts fly from your mouth and inhabit every inch on which you've strode
Do they haunt the world?
Well, they haunt me
With eerie ooh's and aah's I throw up my hands
And I scream my own ghosts into the air
And somewhere
Far above the clouds
They'll meet and form the fauna you've always wanted
And we'll forget the word
And have no choice but to rename them
And call them amorously "angels"
P.S., It's Raining
At night all the lights go out and we chisel our ways home
Past the muddy streets and buzzing cars
Through the jungle of visible oxygen and smoke that we slice through with a dulled machete
Climbing ladders up and down mine shafts
Never having realized that this 30 minute walk could be so intricate
Glowing like jellyfish we move fluidly
Filter feeding the minerals from the sky
And becoming solid by osmosis
When it rains all the children sleep inside
While us men go out and work
Paving the roads to tomorrow
With shit and gold
Drinking our cold coffee black
And they snore while we cry
Because living has consequences
And so does dying
So everyday I ask myself
Which occupation I will commit to for the coming hours
And with a confused resignation
I invariably choose
Neither.
The Mystery Of Dripping Showers
The mystery of dripping showers
And the thought of you in them
With someone else
As I am surrounded by strangers
And fading names
Which dissolve into this cup which I fill with the liquid
That I would hope
Would dissolve you, too
And whose water was dripping tonight?
In the place where I feel so foreign
In the place where I hate new faces
Detest them
Hurl stones at them
So that they shatter like glass
And it is your body that I envision there
Next to that faceless body that you repent against
With tearful words
And even more tearful eyes
Where there is nothing "good" about "goodbye"
And there is no love anymore to be made.
The Woman With The Longest Arms
If you took my hand, I swear that things would be okay
Reach over mountains and through clouds
Go under tunnels and across the greatest of great lakes
Just to twist your fingers into mine
And to shine your smile into mine
And to push your hips into mine
And wave your flag on my stoop
Raise it high where birds perch
Where angels toss their halos
Like a game of horseshoes
And when they clatter to the ground impaled by that flag pole
We will pick them up
Some to wear
Some to pull eachother closer
Some to use as stepping stones as we walk on water
Which we surely will do
Everyday
For the rest of our lives
And I promise
I will never yawn again
And I will never blink again
And I will memorize words for you
Shakespeare and Neruda and Kundera and Foer
And I will whisper them to you
And you can whisper back
With that sound that kisses make against lips and skin.
What Not To Put On A Postcard
"I want a bed of leaves
I want a paleontologist to dig up my bones
I want a necromancer to resurrect me
And a snake charmer to make me dance
I want to burn your envelopes
And the jewelery sent in them
I want to watch the threads unwind
And burn in white smoke
I want you to cut your hair short again
Shorter than last time
Shave your head with a broadsword
Let's see those tick bites
I want to shed all the hair off my body
Climb back into the river
Amongst the slime and the urchins
Like a rat in the Ganges
But mostly I want to send you a letter
With a drop of blood
Saying 'this is from the last time I shared a girl's bed
Congratulations, I hope you're proud'"
There have been a few others lately, but some of them I gave away as unique gifts and promised I wouldn't even keep a copy for myself, so here's what I've written recently I suppose.
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colorblindmelon's journal
ecstatic
bored
pissed off