Polished Aluminum Badges of Authority Dug of from Dirt

"We should have found you

a fellow; then you'd stay"

An educated high school principal

Earnestly explains to drop out deviant

With black painted finger nails

And frizzy Italian hair 

He mistakes for African,

Cuing him to think: it figures.

She lost her golden-haired 

Sapphire-socketed first love

So he could become Bukowski

As all young men must do.

She doesn't dare divulge,

"At 17, i see boys can't do a thing

For dainty intellect and crushing 

Cushion curves calling out for a life

Worth leading." So she took her GED

And found her nerves 

Were Ivy League.

Man's lover took a fatal slip 

Six fee under he counted 

All of the times they made love

Out of anger, anticipation,

Celebration, boredom,

Copacetic Sundays and could see

There were seldom moons they left

Unknown He let her go

And when you do that,

You become a ghost

Died promptly two months after

The orphans wer the only ones

Who didn't understand. Death

usurped further action, solely

Satisfied.

Broken tail light, body riga mortise

In the rear, bursting red eye vessels

Vow this is it! As police curtails

The woman on her way. She is 

Comely, Caucasian, long, curly hair,

Exotic, maybe mixed, looks like 

The first girl he had ever kissed

 and The officer observes:

She couldn't kill a fly

And would not dare try!

He misses the bloody and belligerent 

Battle to take back justice,

Which jaggedly sticks out 

In between her straightly set teeth

"Get that fixed" Forgetting tail light,

'Is he discussing my soul?" 

No, he lets her go

Salivating over tan skin,

White in eyes,

Cleavage caught when he stood over her,

Begging her for pardon, registration, and I.D.

Critical Caste

Was I good for you, social structure?

More to the left, language?

How was that, identity?

DOES NOT MEAN A THING!

The discourse is:

One million blades make a bed

Do not want to get mowed down

Oh god damn

When you are 70 degrees

148 heartbeats and quickening

with individual autonomy

You are finally FREE of subjectivity

Latex gloves Flourescent lights

A sensory holding cell 

With no love no heartbreak
No pop song stuck in head

Just breathing ecstatic
(for the sake of breathing)

Poetry and Painting for Sex

To be honest!
How was I to know
I would not drown and die ?
We would make it back to shore
Where they shipped sand from
My Gulf of Mexico homeland
To exclaim: this is a beach
Do you believe? picture the dark
blanket of water stretching
to all corners swallowing you
up to your middle and
for a moment
you think you've become
part of the sea. rolling waves
bring moonlight to you and you
see one suave shark 3 inches
taller, blonde and blue eyed
like a myth heard on tv
ricocheting silver fins
glimpse of knife blade teeth
He kisses you, brushes your breasts
Translucent in the night light
With his gill and coughs
To make you think of his immunity
And then he has his way you and him bob
Up and down holding on to the orange buoy
you think you are drowning
can't recall any capabilities
of swimming in water so deep
but feeling weightless stirs
a light-hearted, creamy grunt
and the cold-blooded fish finishes
what he was there for
his proud laugh bellows
all the way
to the tiny lantern houses across a sea
"I can't believe we did that"
Walking onto shore,
the life of your spine
Spills into him from your thighs
And he struts through time
An amphibiman. At first step,
"This lake never did see a meteor
Or glacier or earthquake
Yet it stands arsenic, mercury,
Bacteria and sand." Picture it.
What had I done?

Socialization of Postindustrial Sorcery

Lady Femininity, exuding sweaty, feverish hours
Now forgotten or frenzied for with her fat,

Pink caterpillar lips firm and handful thighs,
And ocean-wide eyes that may come to sag,

Cave in along cleavages. But she never forgets
Forging ancestral advice, "Honey, child,

You deserve to be better!
Drink men's masonic milk for sexier chess chests

That win you a porch worth a a damn."
Lady Femininity, Shiva, Madonna,

Mary and Mary, whatever her name!
My quiet, cold mother!

My misfit grandmother
Marinating jazz instead of marrow

the Lady knows it all; So, I read up
Chewed up contraception candy

Practiced come-hitheros and bitter
I-beg-your-pardons incessantly

Lurking behind boulder partitions
To exercise my magic in secret

While still chowing down
On a paid-for dinner and

A suave, tall suitor
As she taught

Power Trips

Ye Ole Holy Ginsberg walked Milvia street

Under this same, vast blue skied umbrella

Heartbroken by the same city block dominoes

Avoiding eye contact with the school boys,

Thinking nostalgically of past lovers during youth.

Could he have listened in on 

The homeless whole-heartedly swearing aloud

To no one but themselves

To see if they said his thoughts?

We share dirty pavements, dirty minds.

The man is dead, he is not anywhere anymore 

No revolution came, can barely whisper about it on the streets

This land is all marked up, I can't find earth

Just Capital and Labor, Garbage and Sex

But nothing I don't want these things. 

So, I walk Milvia street 

Under the vast blue skied umbrella

Heartbroken by the same city block dominoes

Avoiding eye contact with the school boys,

Thinking nostalgically of past lovers during youth.

In a getaway, I found Ginsberg's steps, "primitive" heartache. 

If there is no wild, where to stumble then?

Into bed for pillow talk preaching 'bout Lenin, Vanzetti, South Central LA? 

Ignite the population explosion with a two-child match and dashing husband? 

What path to pinpoint down and scuff up with bottoms of feet? 

Universe is a road map! Must be a road map!

Don't let us be wrong about this one now

Revolutions written down on paper spells: F O L L Y!

Absent-minded postindustrial fuck talks circles

Figure 8's for the deep-pockets

Straight lines to hell for the radicals!

There is no wild left for hiding

Only a bronze plaque is left by bureaucrats

At his cottage to say he once was here

Like C-dawg and a sharpie in a bathroom stall
But fancy

Semantics

Choose carefully t h e w o r d s

Assigned to this ?

These words

Are sounds or straight and rounded lines!

They are not this.

Have yet to feel them?

To be them? to do them?

Sounds and lines ESCAPE me...

NOW must take them,

Assemble noise to represent

To the man what he did,

What I didn't want him to do.

What did he do?

My words come out sweet

Jar in throat incarcerates intimidation,

Eyeing it as a prize

Choose carefully

or he'll never know what he did

Kubrick morality:

Grotesque for a good time.

He kissed sweetly and gently after,

Remained calm

In steadfast stillness and silence

Choose carefully the word

Assigned to this

The crowd will slur and coo

'Bout the sounds and lines forever

(Forever being only a WORD)

What is this? What was this?

Atentado VIOLENTO ao pudor

Have you yet to feel be or do such?

Words come out sweet

They don't come out at all

He'll never know

Whatagoodtime,Stanley

ARRR AYE PEEE EEEE

is not that broad, sunny light

mourning for christ

mourning for christ mas

morning

eyes shut

in disbelief

in inhumane sub-reality

not unlike my mother's womb

once was

ARRR AYE PEEEE EEEE: shapes taking up space

His human body after mine: shapes taking up space

What was this?

And could i keep it at a pronoun

If i did it proudly?

SAVE FACE that is?

Or ought i shout it when he passes,

So that the other girls don't go

and play?

Show & Tell

Tight wire dental floss

Drags out toxic times

This is cleaning up

Bacteria slime can no longer

Stow organs for their own keeping

Mime to those surrounding

What you find

What we keep quiet

Is the best to know

Could stop a riot

Could see into others eyes

And count their losses

Could look straight into the sun

And not become blind

However, sublimely

We waste the string and

The rinds caught between teeth

We keep them secret

Humanity reaped by waste

So, that you may walk

Bemused by the backlash

Of your own thinking,

Completely

Alone.