talktooloose: (naked_sword)
An act of poetry has occurred this morning. This is still a draft, but I'm too lazy to wait.


Purity Ball

Market tumbles in pandemic panic
Screaming streets of airbag warriors
Donning dollar-store masks
To plunge into the jungle

They dive deep into the humid crotch of the world
Zipped and sanitized
Laminated guide books and UltraViolet GPS
They seek a new Eden
A way back
A perfect location for the perfect franchise

The explorer has days of tedium to reflect on it all
How did we come to this?
Blame the ones who lay down with swine
On dusty farms, ravaged by agro biz
In huts in falling forests where static Seinfeld quips in Portuguese
In the desperate hygiene of the brokerage
In the circus swami tent of the mortgage men
In the bedroom drawers where vibrating Jesus waits his turn

On the seventh day
The valley opens at their feet
The falls cascading into eternity green
Tears fog their goggles
Their screams of exultation
Carry across the valley
Like so many pteradons

At the crumbling edge of catharsis
They search the index for meaning
They google truth off a satellite
They have a group hug
And heave in their spacesuits

Kurtz crying, "The purity! The purity!"
talktooloose: (fag)
Something in [ profile] shirtlifterbear's journal reminded me of this poem I wrote a few years back:

The Curve

There’s a curve that starts
At the base of his neck
A curve drawn with ink and
That mounts his breasts
Tattoos his nipple
And slides (first-snow toboggan)
To the delicate belly

Where the line shakes
As a laugh is coaxed
(“milles pardons
with tender smirk)
And the torso is mapped
At last

The hairs that descend
Into shadowed regions
Catch at the nib and slow its course
Right at the line where
Innocence and beach decency end
Where the hidden blush of
Lust begins

Pens caress and multiply
For many paths radiate
From the root:
Drawing traceries on Easter eggs
Topographies on rolling mounds
And a slow, groaning spiral
Up the central matter

Geography grows even as it’s mapped
Where will it end?
Will the well run dry?

What does this curve describe?


Apr. 29th, 2008 12:00 pm
talktooloose: (monkey_man)
Huh. I seem to have finished a poem that's been kicking around for awhile. I also wrote a new song which is the first in a long time. I've been writing so much long-form prose that my psyche must have been jonesing for the density of verse. Here's the poem:

Stanzas on the Subway

He holds her with apostrophes,
With italics,
With public solicitation
And a bumper sticker:
She is mine
She is mine
And look how I cherish
With cursive strokes
And muscly flexes
Of my clever hand

It's all flagrant lip
service, of course.
To the preening boy
The girl is mere object,
Subject and theme.

But she knows her worth
And the metric limits of his
Big blind love:
Roll me off your
Tongue tonight
And again a thousand nights
I'll be no more than
You can see
Than what you already found
In me

It All

Feb. 19th, 2008 09:32 am
talktooloose: (Master_no)
Regret everything;
Don't get waylaid by
Rogue hopes.


Aug. 1st, 2007 02:54 pm
talktooloose: (Master_no)
"Lojinx" exists. Cancel the tour.

Imbibe a libation!
Blind ambition,inflation
Will fell your fellation
Before you are through.
talktooloose: (j-horns)
Yonge & Bloor
Where rich and poor,
Prig and boor,
Turk and Moor
Hunt for lucre,
Sniff its spoor
talktooloose: (monkey_man)
Energy is apportioned so
Inequitably across our years
That it's worth
The youth's dipping
Into his dripping surplus
To scramblestumble UP the
Down escalator
   (This effort dedicated to
   Pointless, magnificent
   Human achievement)
While I choose, on this
Rainy-knee Wednesday,
To amblebumble
Slow and humble
Behind the old Jamaican lady
Who, on reflection,
Is probably just
My age

June 2012

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