from a distance the green man looks like a star

beautiful sunshine
king of the beach
watching venus hurtle across the sky
with the girls girls girls
and the gays gays gays
and my imaginary UST
and my this-is-not-CTR music
and my this-is-not-quite-my war
and did I tell you that I love you

nothing hurts
nothing grows
too many bands called girls
too many girls called alice
too many lemonade stains
too many blowjob sonnets
hold me in your bleeding arms

as we clamber cataractically
for a cat to race to bed
we are ignored by the earth
asleep in its relative peace
and by the people
peaceful
in the vacuum of familiar war
crazy for you;
I can’t help but complain
and the girls love to hear my opinion

‘I Will Be’ I cry hoarsely into the churchbell
‘raus’ it repeats into me
as we bathe in each shallow raindrop
and all the wet revolution I can wring from a yellow tie
give me a girl with bleeding arms
I’ll show you the lake-carved land of opportunity
‘still’ I whisper
tongue through her stigmata
I feel nauseous - have I bitten too far
into my cheek?