time
finds me on the bus
thinking of the sudden dryness
in my mouth
as my mouth fills with
memories and saliva
total recall
sucking on your big toe
while
fucking you beautifully
a miracle accomplished
by the properties
of divine acrostics
i slide
my hand down the metallic pole
feeling your wetness
in my mouth
it
and all the other cavities
rejoicing in the
memory of your flesh
as if it were a steak
as if you were a pomegranate
the bus driver announces
are we having fun yet
and i shake back and forth
to the cradle of the broken bed
and broken cables
to genderbending switches
and the self fulfilling prophesy
of the sky
what will keep me
in the world
a sign asks
i will give you all
medals
spread thin on burnt toast
like the time i spread you
again and again
and you
sighing
yielded into the mental
eyeroll
up in the clouds somewhere
everything connects suddenly
some figure of clarity
some figure of pelagic plagiat
mutually appreciating the
mutual appreciation of the
mutual appreciation of the
these are some of my core functions
would they be more tolerable as a poem
i am asked
and i say yes
why not
why not shoot in reverse order
why not slip fwitches
waiting for the arrangement to come
even though it will never come
waiting for some other time
in the imaginary cars
of two pee em dissolution
and intense jealousy
when you know the word for something
that will not last
what do i value
i am asked
the eternal latka and matka
convoy ethereal
bodega
sodomy charges
and the nineteen eighty seven
ferrari four twelve
do not repeat after me
do not point out discontinuity
do not take advice
to not remember
do not forget
accept typos as an inevtable
part of life
exude steadfast influence
search the recycle bins of the world
for hot little panienki
and still never have enough
so where was i
i am on the bus
licking the metal pole
with my hands
thinking of him
and him
and you
thinking of the flexibility of phrase
and the chord to follow
and the noise to follow
and the fear to follow
thinking of the supersemipermeable membrane
of your skin
and dreams of
white holy jissom
and beerbottles
tomatoes and gasoline
so what do you say
suddenly acceleration is in order
and everyone on the bus
feels something off
in the rhythmic rubbing
no longer
requiring hands
as the seams on the seats
come apart
turning and turning
the underpants melt
off the hot little number
in stockings and skirt
and the texas chainsaw massacre belt
and the double chin
and the vacant stare
and the curious glance
and the double smile
and the briefcase
the suitcase
neither here nor there
and the exquisite corpse
of the nutcase paedophile
everything
stops
to let the feeling pass
makes me slow
down
tighten my grip
lick my lips
Since this is apparently cliché-ridden, I am a cliché-lover.
Thanks for the attention. All I can say in this respect is that it would be a mistake to ever take my poetry at face value (hint, hint).
do you mind if i ... respond to this? it's rattling around in my head, but i wont if you'd rather i didnt.
God, respond already! You really don't need my permission.
Manifesto of Cliches
Time
Finds me
In a car
Miles away
From a bus
Feeling
Every bump
And hump
Riding
Gripping the pole
Tight
So very tight
Lights flash
In a sea swiftly moving
Drowning
In the thump
Thump
Thump
Of memory
The bed
Beat
Rejoicing
In the slap
Smack
Spank
Of flesh
Reddened
Streaks down your back
Scratches
The record skips
Dancing
Hips grinding
I slide along the pole
The bus
Turns
I on top
You on top
Until we make
Mate
The king
's scepter falls
Drained
My mouth
Fills
With wanting
And taste
But a memory
Empties me
Breaks
Brake the car
Was it good for you?
Folding planes
I bend in half
Will you
Make me sore
High
Until the blue
Of the sky
Turns white
And the brown of your eye
Fades grey
Into the smoke
Of cigarettes
And all things
Never smoked
Never had
And the pain
Of letting go
Of being let go
And exile
From the father
Land
On me
And claim me yours
Stake me
And take
All
Leave nothing
Behind
Glorious behind
Remember
Lolita
And her cherry red
Lollipop
And the split of her legs
the vee
She parted with
As she gave
The white of her skin
And the switching
You gave her
Of words
She gave you
Blurred vision
Of the horizon
Where dreams hang
In traffic
Waiting
I think
Of you
Of him
Of you and him
Thinking of the flexibility necessitated
And the hush to follow
And the grief to follow
And the silence to bellow
Thinking of the curl
Of your hair
And the shape of your tear
As it falls
Heavy
Atop of me
Moving slowly
And everyone in the car
Feels the slow slide
Of the turn
And the tide
Which bound my wrist
As you quickened
And thickened
Signing your name
On me
Singing in me
As your name falls
From my lips
Pink and parted
Everything
Stops
To let the feeling last
Makes me slow
Down
Loosen my grip
Lick my lips
I love you. ;)
i'm thinking of entering into a contest - do you think i could include this without yours, or is it... flaccid by itself?
Lovely girl, have you learned nothing from Bibliography and Sound? Every work owes something to another work that came before it. Art does not exist in a vacuum. Life is found poetry. You've made it yours, now say it out loud. Good luck!