All posts in poetry

The detainee is a schizophrenic who requests that we address him by his self-given nickname Elephant (presumably due to his tendency to wear grey clothes). First found kneeling and begging inside the main concourse of the Grand Central Terminal he was given a pardon. When later again located sitting on a street-corner in the Lower East Side with a black and empty open briefcase, a smile, and a handwritten cardboard-sign we proceeded to detain the subject. (The detainee’s sign reads “May the happinesses your delusions bring you be true. May they shelter you. I am homeless.”)

it is cold out there.
so what?
open it,
wide.
let it all come in.
let the frostbite reach
you
make it thaw.
you are not weak.
it will thaw
in here
let it summer,
with no air conditioner on.
summer with no air conditioner on so long that you’re forced to open it,
wider,
just to stay here.

it is cold out there.
so what?
you are home.

my mother’s crazy,

and this family resemblance
and these aging eyes
are making it harder and harder
for me to tell us apart.

this fucking scares me.

i’m serious.
all reflective surfaces
that i glimpse with my peripherals
reflect her
before they don’t,
and it scares me.

this.
fucking.
scares.
me.

and yes,
i can’t tell whether or not
this is all in my head,
but this is not the first night
i’ve swung punch woken to soaked sheets.

imagine
the number of programs you could have on tv
consisting of only a female chimp
and a dark-spotted banana.

the combinations
are mind blowing!
it’d all be so basic and deep
and nobody would get it,
but the chimps will.

and I gotta tell you,
genetic comparison tells this joke
that starts off with us having
a common ancestor with the chimp,
i forget the middle,
but the punchline’s that we all share one with
the banana.

today i studied myself,
as best as i could.

i took out my camera
(canon),
prepped and
from chest to head
took three front headshots
(one of me looking up, looking straight, looking down),
took three left-profile headshots
(one of me looking up, looking straight, looking down),
took three right-profile headshots
(one of me looking up, looking straight, looking down),
took three back headshots
(one of me looking up, looking straight, looking down),

and stepping back
from toes to head
took three front full body shots
(one of me looking up, looking straight, looking down),
took three left-profile full body shots
(one of me looking up, looking straight, looking down),
took three right-profile full body shots
(one of me looking up, looking straight, looking down),
took three back full body shots
(one of me looking up, looking straight, looking down),

and concluding it
took pictures of the in-betweens
(the facing ninety degrees right front close-up shots and more).

it’s more than i care to write about,
but still,
when unloading the pictures onto my computer
i realized in those forty-eight shots
that my work wasn’t done.

the food’s been tampered with,
so i no longer eat.

the water’s tainted,
so i no longer drink.

the dream’s corrupted,
so i no longer sleep.

my days consist of
self-inflicted malnourishment
and sleep-deprivation.

… sometimes being this awake maims.

the girls with bodies-to-die-for said intelligence is overrated.
the girls with ivy-league-smarts said looks don’t last.

the girls with time said money is what it’s all about.
the girls with money said time was precious,
and they wish they had more of it.

they all, repeat all, said something.
none said they were content.

the human condition:
to want.

the boy who lives
the girl who lives
common truths

the boy who died
the girl who died
common truths

the boy who lives
the girl who lives
common falses

the man who lives
the woman who lives
common falses

the man who dies
the woman who dies
common truths

the boy who died
the girl who died
common truths

the man who died
the woman who died
common truths

miss tramp stamp had food stamps, mood stamps. (for her hunger cramps.)

miss tramp stamp slept under street lamps.

life’s a war camp, whore camp, for miss tramp stamp.