wooden wallpaper cafe

this is a long road to the same starting point, ashes to wine, earth to blood, mixing mixing mixing inept cauldrons heavy swirls, deep processes of undulating pioneers the beginning of behavior bred in a turkish coffee cup, researching the western ideal of dying in a clothing store without religion without blinding the individual curious curious animals without rightness who are you with all your knives and your uncut tomatoes, you sit by the cows all afternoon and count the thread pattern of the barnyard pastures, and you never have good things to say about the cynicism of ants, they've survived this long with the heat of two drunks sipping sangria in the corner of the cafe, spitting their laughter like hyenas, with the sympathy of a volcano in polynesia, they know nothing of the receding horizon, nothing of the sun without its shine, who would you bring if you could neuter the situation altogether? The arabian princess finds her belly dancing in her genetic code on with the double helix traces in the burning sand, the soft wrapping of dissection around a lilting square, bad mouth tastes before the beer garden oasis, what scale do they teach the monsters to terrorize the children. you are nothing but a secret, a question of envy. no substance, no bitching.

You had such grace in the end. I wish I could remember what color your eyes were.

Keep your fingers
crossed, somebody might
get it right this time,
your cloudy mirror shows
a brother, a son, past and future
lover, wide-toothed friend, spoiled
milk liar, insect infested personality
wound, one that refuses to use
normal band-aids, simply hidden
like not lifting up an arm to a handshake,
like water-buffalo in the plains of missouri
a mime, a piano falling.

Others I used to be.
They were like you, too.
Caution, because too much
telling can lead to cerebral
swelling and i might split
like an overheated bag of popcorn.
we are not at the circus so take off
your mask and start yelling
into this bucket
of shallow water.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KVKDQgT_b-Y

"Never make a poet mad."

So Soon?

I can't wait
to read those letters
forwards and backwards
I can't wait
to feel that concrete brick
hanging from my organs
I can't wait
for the cloudy scarf and coffee
malaise to drip into
every fucking pore
of my body
I can't wait
to have my memory
surgically removed.
I can't wait, I can't
wait, I
can't wait.

Always Right

Very private men
Speak loud ideas in public
But without applause