My Sixth Life

for Elizabeth

I brought her early light in a leather pouch,
And a snake's head in a handkerchief.
What a fool I was.

Every April, she crouched on the muddy roads
Like something not human.
First warmth carries taint,
And she rolled until she was filthy with it;
Don't think there weren't those who admired her.

A sick sky will deny that it ever held clouds
And a thousand lies without pause will make it rain,
If only in the upturned palm of a lunatic.

I brought her a ring made from poisonous metal,
And instructions on how to drown herself.
A gray cat is no haloed nun,
So if I grew claws from the ends of my fingers,
It was only to prove before the maypoles went up
That God was mad or that she was. 
________ 

Dead Friend

The dead friend
Tags along with you,
Even though you
Haven't asked her to.

She never takes the hint,
Though you roll your eyes and walk ahead.
Nobody likes her.
She's got no cred.
She's dead.

The dead friend
Is at your door again.
What a stupid bitch.
It's 2 a.m.

She won't leave you alone.
Now she's calling on the phone.
She doesn't get it if you diss her.
She really thinks you miss her.
Dead friend.
__________

for Magpie 90

Admission

You asked me for a song,
My googly-eyed little lamblet;
In the dying hours of a dying day,
You asked me for life, for music,
For some bright trifle to stay despair.

Could I be mother to all of that?
Fuckinay, Bo Peep,
To all of that and more.

I give you credit.
You didn't resort to the old roundhouse
And try to beat it out of me
As so many have before,
Pressing "sorry" to my bruises like a beefsteak
While promising never, ever, to do it again.

They were Catholics, my lovers,
All in an access of crossing themselves,
Particularly their fingers
Behind their suspendered backs--
And that was the women.

So, a tune you wish,
A tune you shall have.
Let me rosin my bow with the ground bones of Pharaohs.
This wood comes from Italy;
My remarkable fingers from my Gypsy aunts.
My skirts are Parisian,
And my smile that you love so well?
That came from seven devils, dead lo these seven years.

Sit.
You may use my lavender-colored fainting couch.
Recline, like a lime in gin.
Drape my burnt rose scarf over the Tiffany lamp.
Close your eyes.

You asked me for a song,
In the dying hours of a dying day;
For life, for music,
For some bright trifle to stay despair--
Let it be my love, for I do love you,
Despite my gloomy black gloves
And the way I flinch, like a tethered bird,
With every honest note I dare to play.
_______


linked to Real Toads open link Monday

Red Leaves

Red leaves, red leaves, all down the street
Red leaves don't mean very much to me
Unless those red leaves, red leaves, are under your feet
And you're walking on red leaves, walking next to me
Then I like 'em
Like 'em pretty good.

You left your funky brown jacket on the back of my chair
And I like it, like it, like seeing it there
Red leaves, red leaves, blowing crazy in the wind
I hope you come blowing back to fetch it again
Cos I like ya
Like ya pretty good.

_______

for dverse poetics...color.

Question

I took the perfect picture
of the perfect girl
I always wanted to be--

So smart.
So sexy.
So fearlessly,
flawlessly
me.

I wanted to offer myself to you
like a thin mint on a tray--
so undeniably fine,
so de rigueur and avant-garde,
so gay.

But I put it in my pocket
and it got bent up.
I fell off the rails,
went outside the lines,
and got
thoroughly
worrisomely
fucked up.

And so I'm wondering--
if I'm not quite intact,
not exactly all that,
a little worse for wear with leaves in my hair--
would you still love me as I love you?

As is?

As I am?

______

Fashion Bunny

Fashion Bunny so cute, coonchoo die?
Fashion Bunny wear you cashmere swetta, not ask, stretch da shit out of it,
Fashion Bunny do your man, not ask, fuck him up for ya.
Fash Bun cut you momma.
Fash Bun jack you car.
Fluffy, fluffy,
Fluffy, fluffy,
Coonchoo puke? She cuter than you.
Eetchoo heart out, it's Fashion Bunny.

Fashion Bunny crash da party at your place,
Fashion Bunny crack you Ming vase,
You party suck.
She gone!
Fash Bun steal you frenz an snub you funky azz.
Fash Bun say no matta what you wear you still look fat.
She got leedle adorble ears.
She got leedle adorble pink nose.
You neva be her, you neva get close.
Eetchoo heart out, it's Fashion Bunny.

Fashion Bunny don't play no lettuce, no carrot.
Fashion Bunny pimp you life,
She get you high,
She make the pigs who busted you apologize
As long as you wit her
(like that would evah happen).
Eetchoo heart out beeeatches!
It's Fashion Bunny.
_______

Live Poets

You said,
"We'll be famous when we're dead"
And the tarot told me that it's true.

Do you suppose we'll care, baby?
Or by then will we have
Better things to do?

Here's what I think--
An open page
Is like an open road,
Just point that thing and go.

No speed limit,
No cops--
At least none with power to stop us,
That much I know.

So if you'll just put your arms around me
Or let me put mine around you,
I promise there is nothing we can think of
That we couldn't do.

No one needs to know where we went
Or what we did--
Just keep that open mind...
"We'll be famous when we're dead"
But til then,
Sweetheart, what a ride.

_________

linked to dverse OLN