A Plunge into the River

can’t escape the blank slate
that chalk can’t ride
letters, much less words,
fall
hit their cursive heads
flatten like an education
without liberal arts
or song
or the articulation of questions

words fly by in the mind
river-moon-sky-fire
a rote of words
sheep or baseball batting averages
or the earworm of an Annie Lennox tune

I say river to myself
leap in, am carried away by the current
the froth
the rapid bounce and dash
flash of a cry for help
but
thrown out
nothing to say
like Heraclitus
just an average Greek
clinging to Athena’s ankles
asking to be saved
from Sparta, Xerxes, Thermopylae
the river of arrows in a narrow
pass
a history test of fact, fiction
and don’t ask
for Socratic logic
in a poem flowing
through the sound and texture of words
bird songs greet the sun
poets run, leap into language
cannonball
what a splash!
and some poems drown
because they are about nothing
really
really?
the quibblers come with arrows, axes
critical seminar notes
boats don’t float
that violate the academics
the middle-aged ladies
throwing fruits, vegetables
haughty little *******
and that word I’d write
except I’m not into hip hop
so let us wrap the rap
and look on the river flowing past
looks like the water fallen
from Niagara
the chop and plop
in the narrow canyon
sluicing to the St. Lawrence

I am on the bank
left bank
being liberal
and wannabe French
I watch nonsense
say Dada
but he is dead
that makes me sad

Jimmy

Thursday night
Sittin’ ’round a table
At Clete’s bar, we all
Try to come up with
Ways to get some
Extra money.  Me?
I’m sellin’ a few things.
Paul’s workin’ overtime.
Poncho’s just lookin’
For the part-time job.
Jimmy laughs at us
And says gettin’ by
Ain’t all that hard.
“You want a Coke,
Suck a dick.  You want
A pack of smokes,
Suck a dick.”  None
Of us were ever that
Hard up that we even
Considered following
Jimmy’s advice.  But
None of us had spent
Twenty years in prison.

Massachusetts 

it had been about a year
since I last called 
and her Dad had died
so I facetimed her 
to give my condolences 
and as I watched her face
I felt her long soft flowing hair
the back of her neck
the joy-burst 
of her lips
and continued to get 
aroused 
looking at her bare shoulder
above her cream-colored fuzzy 
jumper 
and suddenly 
I proposed 
that we be married to each other
about a week 
once a year 
and she said
Yes 

now 
contemplating our next rendezvous 
I miss her body 
remembering the glorious sight of her
riding me that warm summer in Boston  

I miss her 
like the sailor the late morning rise

The Voyeur Inside

I remember a locked door 
Against which a ten-year-old girl
Pressed her entire frame
A little above keyhole height  
The first time 
She heard her parents do things
The first time she heard
The mother moan  
And not in pain 

The moaning ended
The image lingered

Today the girl sits 
And watches a pregnant neighbour
Wondering what her ultrasound looks like 
If it’s a ‘Rosemary’s Baby’
Growing inside 

Another house to the left 
Has this woman in her early thirties
A Belle De Jour 
Husband slouched with briefcase
Unsuspecting 
In his 9 to 5 routine

The voyeur hasn’t left me 
The seeds, too deep inside
The ennui of our times
When every subway loaf
Across the globe
Is precisely 
The same size

Fantasy

I will arrive
Unannounced

I will greet 
With smile
And a muttered line

I will hold her face 
Like a dead bird

I will kiss her lips
Dry

And I will strip her
Down 
Make love
To her

The night 
Will be naked,
Her head will tilt
Towards oblivion
As I run sandpaper between her 

It will be so perfect,

Even I don’t 
Believe me.  

Uncommon Era

When your existential crisis has an existential crisis,

drink until your blood coagulates into a fine wine,
eat until your flesh turns into tasteless wafers,

take a dip in the River Styx, but not before
drowning one toe at a time to test the temperature,

then unplug the rubber stopper from the levee
below sea level after forty days of rain, 

and flush us all counter-clock wise
back to the past tense.

No Talking 

I taught 
high school English for one day, 
more than enough to know the job 
wasn’t for me; I must’ve told them
to pipe down a gazillion times; 
come last bell I was in bad shape, 
my throat raw, my voice reduced to
a painful rasp; no wonder we keep 
hearing about teachers having sex 
with their students; after six periods 
of ear-splitting chaos it must be 
highly cathartic to plug one up;
even the gabbiest, gossipmongering
cheerleader will find it hard, if not
downright impossible, to talk with
her mouth full.

X-Ray Specs

I showed Dad the back page
of my comic book.
I wanted a squirting flower 
(you’re soaked, sucka),
live Sea Monkeys 
(make ‘em sufferrr), 
but most of all,
a pair of $3 
(only) 
X-Ray Specs!

See right through clothing, brosky.
Scientific optical principal totally works.

Dad copped the load but the only
thing I really needed was the specs.
For starters, there was like Deborah 
Black, Heather Horsey and, 
(oh, Jesus), 
Natalie “the rack” Cockburn.
Would have to be careful 
around Ms. White in class.

Kept asking Dad, and fucking
praying to God.
The specs did not come. Fuck
God & fuck the Sea Monkeys 
into the fucking ground. 

Dad, where are they?
Soon. Promise.
Dad, where are they?
No fucking idea!

One morn when I was choking
the chicken in the shower,
the specs finally came. 

Few weeks before, 
I found me a switchblade and I
did murda the box with that lil’ mutha. 

Can’t say if I wore them all day.
Can’t say that night I prob saw like
Dad’s dick by glow of my Batman nite-lite. 

Brittany 

The cage door closes
and he is someone’s daughter,
someone’s Brittany,
passed around like butter,
bottom bunk bumping
and lipstick for the pig,
commissary property and certain
protections on the yard;
the guards running drugs and numbers,
more favours in Favourland…
our little Brittany sent to the infirmary
to be sewn up brand new;
no one likes a loosey goosey 
when all you have is Time.

My Mom Called Me a Son of a Bitch

seven German beers and 10mg in
I suddenly remember 
that my Mom called me a Son of a Bitch
once
another beer and she messages me 
how r u?
we just arrived 
in Vegas
I suddenly remember 
and call her 
to wish her 
Happy Birthday