new poem

Pillow God


I lived in a house with my mother and father for what seemed like forever but it was actually until I was eighteen the summer I went to the slammer for stabbing a person too many times in the neck.

Most of my time growing up was spent in the basement, where there was a big-screen TV and lots of room and space for guests. I used like to watch action movies with Dolph Lungren in the basement. And drink lots of soda. There were many things to do, in my home, in my basement. See, these were the days before puberty, before I was wetting my bed with semen. That basement was my own private party club.

No girls allowed.

One of my favorite things to do in the basment was arrange my father's designer pillows in a vertical row and then hump the pillows as if they were humans until my hairless thurst-hammer felt all tingly. Until it felt really good.

I used to lie on that couch
for what seemed like forever,
forever until

Mom made dinner

or

American Gladiators.

new poem

new poem

Jason


As my friends will tell you,
I have trouble remembering much
of anything. For instance,

was it last evening?
Or an evening not last evening?
Perhaps even a druggy morning
when I bumped into

Jason? Yes, it was Jason,
the same Jason who used to sling
heroin
in the house i'm now
living in.

"Central Florida", he said

"Tomorrow, I'm leaving",

and right then and there,
directly in front of him,
I understood so clearly how
our lives are based solely on

timing

that is,
until the memory of Jason

escaped me
completely

and I was left
with only a
fourty of Mickey's

and my
own

frazzled
skeleton.

new poem

Dream #1

When I step from the entrance
to Tina's loft of
flashy narcotics and\or-forget the or-
intercourse between strangers
I see a kitten whose dark eyes burn
through whatever is left of me.

There were many men with pinpointed
pupils and oversized jackets
on the way home,
and when I say "home" I really
mean your mother's house because your
mother-your lovely mother-has sex with
many young and waifish men and yes, I
happen to be one of them

but
believe me, this is nothing personal.

Earlier, before I ventured to
Tina's, I had a dream in which
I was chasing an unnamed nymphette
from my glitchy past through a
shopping mall. She turned a corner
and I lost her, but no, the dream was
not over because later I saw her
face-to-face at her parents' place where
we first locked eyes and I tried to glue
my melting face to yours

but failed.

The next night, awake, no one,
not even Tina and her
shapely cohorts could replicate
the last dream I would have before
dying between two ravaged buildings

surrounded by
these strange men with

pinpointed
pupils
and oversized
jackets.

In closing,
I pray you are somewhere
far from danger,
still waiting for me to
steal medicine from
your mother's secret cabinent.

Goodbye, Bug-Eyes.