Wednesday, January 31, 2007

gas station haiku

gas station haiku

smell of fuel as you
pump. counting words with fingers.
hurry back to me.

lake drive

lake drive

riding and laughing
nervously in the night

we've got no secrets

when your eyes twinkle
i know i've been right
all along

you,
just like the night full of stars
(which i can see reflecting off the
river warmer than my hands
as they pick at dead
skin that will someday scar),
cannot lie
to me

my fingernails cannot hide the dirt
but i'll get clean with washing

Tuesday, January 30, 2007

summer blonde

summer blonde

i don't work
at a card shop
but i could.
no man
buys these things
for himself.

you stand
at dairy queen
looking like
a peach
(is it your work uniform?)
while waiting for a
chicken strip basket a la mode.
i step into
the shadows,
check my gloss, and
dab a little
poisoned apple
to my lips.
they must be perfect
although you will
never kiss them
except in dirty fantasy.

blogger temptations

Stupid blogger tempting me with promises of an easier blog! Perhaps it will be better someday, but it's going to take some work to fix all the "upgrades" I just made. If your blog has disappeared from the sidebar, it will return! (Luckily I'm doing this at a time when I haven't been posting much. I'm hoping that I won't really have a lot of readers notice the weirdness of my remodled blog.)

your untouchable face

your untouchable face

winter is cold
and snowflakes fall
in sheets (like icing
onto doughnuts yet not as
sweet). they
coat my tounge
as i lift my face
skyward to the blackhole
night. it was a night
like this when i fell. when i got up
my hand was
cut. blood stained my
white glove. stumbling, wishing
i could move faster
out of the cold, i
slipped on ice. when
one is numb
she can easily avoid
the cold.


Monday, January 29, 2007

still life with Kabuki

still life with Kabuki

today is a chill stare.

pages are my mirror--
fun house (yet i do not laugh)--
a destorted version of me
to be sorted by factory workers in China
for seven cents an hour.

my mask is ceremic blue
with eyeholes wide enough
to see the past.
cheeks flecked with snowflakes
that cannot melt
even in summer.

Tuesday, January 09, 2007

"i love you (and not in a friendly way)"

"i love you (and not in a friendly way)"

rain turns to ice
during the one a.m. stumble
from the hard times bar.
i wish i could
kiss you. i dream
of being barechested in
your arms.
don't make me remember that she's waiting at home.
smile at me
and tell me how smart i am.

the mistake

the mistake

late night circles and squares
eyes blurred by oily lenses
and a head too filled
with hearts and stars
to remember to smile

end it all
before cheeks get too warm
lightly brushing fingertips
are a wonderful secret
that i must hide
from you (has anyone ever
written a poem about you?)

the first smile of the new year
might be the last
unless i can hold
the clouds in open arms