Untitled 2 summer 2009

= If only the moments were my lifetime and my lifetime the moments=

 

 

 

I’m beautifully fucked up

I lay belly down

                  in the tub

I flip

look up

at the clothes hanging

                  from the shower curtain rod

the bright ball lights dimmed

 

there is beauty in this

 

Beauty I’ve seen before

when the clothes have hung on the line

in my French room.

 

A cardinal visits.

A friend I never met sent me a photo

                  an African Ibis.

Red

My father’s watching a Cardinal’s game.

 

My mother is here

                  somehow

she has deposited her spirit

in my weary father

                  somehow

the wrongs have been made right.

 

More tests

More stress

Men with no jobs

Microcalcifications on my mammogram

 

My lover says “Biopsy!  Wahoo!”

Yeah, that’s his response.

As he rattles on whining,

“You no love me”

“You give me no time”

 

F**k you

                  You pathetic son of b***h

 

I cope alone.

Live alone.

Chew on my bitterness

                  as my sister sweeps through town.

 

I float alone.

Drink alone.

 

Rub by bloated belly

and hear the voices of all those

who have told me how soft I am.

Yeah, I’m soft. 

soft skin

soft interior

 

I watched Bukowski - Born Into This

and think….

 

How fucked up am I?

 

and…

How beautiful my paintings are

How talented I am

How I might just rot away

if I don’t work less

                  and write more.

 

I have waltzed with the grim reaper

I engaged him with psychic foreplay

and then…kicked his a*s!

 

I’m here.  I’m still here.

 

Gazing at the beauty of clean laundry.

Feeding the injured squirrel.

 

But I don’t know how long

I can get away with my trick.

 

So

I’ve got to do something

                  before

I come undone.

Reviews

[Robin]

you know the answer you know the outcome , just keep kickin' a*s

[Claudia Moss]

Writing is
the stitch
that
binds
you to
this
life...
Stay the
undoing
with your
pen
My friend