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garlic and chocolate. apples and salt.

keebler club crackers, a little scotch and planters cashews

askew?

i want to have fun with you. i do i do i do!

do you remember the last movie we watched
and if it was really me, that was with you?

i remember your mad mouth
and your sad mouth
too

what about that narrow, dark place i touched
and the window i couldn't really see through?

all i know is
you touched me as if i were a flower
and that should be good enough for you.

lol, warm thing...

you make my heart sing?

yeah and if you want
i'll be the napkin if you be the ring.




*

Nina Laughs

she found her silver purse. it doesn't sparkle but the fringe is fun.

you should have bought the boots

she puts the purse in the closet with the 2 matching scarfs. no palm trees just beautiful cobblestones, a fireplace and snow.

your body is cold

hush.
winter is a vampire

that looks like you

Nina Dreams as

reflections repeat - nights in the duplex box. and through the window:
angels float from another host. . dark, filled with holes, cracks, & smoke.
these holes
fingerprint her with glints
push her into everywhere they've been -
haiku of smoky noise.
her naked body stirs, but only, slightly.

*

far away
tombed in his own dreams
black irises
burn lips, smear themselves on bony & fat tips..

*

basket thighs

how's your cash?

i'm broke

*

Nina is a theater
her bangs & lungs are spray-painted
but
the word
poem,
is etched
like a tunnel -
cross-stitched




&
he is
a pink
automaton
tiny bits of ice stuck in his bit
a vibrating line
marking the gloom
with

forever



*

consider each keystroke ..

a kiss.


*

with bloody cuticles and shaky hands
Nina types into the machine..

dear ghost eyes
i am sorry for calling you mean names. i am sorry you are sad.

know this:

you are my velvety ocean & my dreamland.
my nest & my pulse
my fever, my socket, my
glass. my dark shadow ~

i came across time for you,
died a million deaths with you

ran through alleys &
walked through gardens of stars with you

i won't die

on a foggy
winter
morning
covered by nothing but the computers' flickering glow
the fat cat snoring in her corner
dreaming in rhyme as my avatar changes into some kind of an angel or
snowflake
maybe even a bloody ax in the sand
which would lead people to believe that
i am still here
i guess this is a poem
for all of those who can't stand to breathe
the stench of their own stink
who no longer care enough to
get out of bed
eat
or
find a job
for those who don't feel like editing their drunken
slop of a poem
fuck, u, u know it's that time of the year
for all you losers
watching a tv show about being reconnected
with god
or
a lost family member or something called, hope
for those sick of all the sugary bullshit or just bull
for all those closet billy idol fans
for those who never did any drugs
but were simply born
too slow
for the obese armchair activist
inhaling his third pizza hut pizza
for the girl who thinks she's gonna make it big
by fixing her nose
for the generic shut-in
who only writes about roses
because he has seen all the ugly in the world
and wants to forget
all the Lucilles putting his last dollar in the jukebox
instead of washing baby clothes
for all those who find their last rebel yell
when the sheriff comes with the eviction notice

for the time love left you breathless
on a beach full of sun.

..................................................

Nina Sighs...

pours herself another vodka/red bull
and turns up the volume

'Super Nanny'
what a great show.

.

show over. cigs, gone.

thinks about getting dressed and going outside to see if the car will start.. nah.
searches for 'Even Flow' on Utube instead.

Pearl Jam.. isn't it a decade too soon for them to be hip again?

no.

o, okay.. so you're just gonna be all sullen and bitchy now?

no. i found a pair of long johns and they fit so i am actually quite content.

so, you are getting dressed and you are gonna go out and try to start your car?

no.

alright. just sayin'. just might be good to see if it starts. cause you are gonna have to drive it tomorrow.

i can walk.

LMFAO! yeah, right. in this weather? you aren't as tough as you used to be, Nina. Let's face it, you have pretty much given up.

on what?!

L I F E

fuck you.

..

Radar Love

love is..

us, living in a van by the river..

drinking cheap scotch and screw-top wine

writing mad/bad-ass poems on napkins stolen from McDonald's.

we will film everything, of course, and become friends.

lol come on now, let's get serious!

Love is..
the blinds closed, your wet hair, your pupils all crescent, the clutch
and hold of your sweet talons, and that satin bush wild enough to silk on!

to silk on? oh, you mean after i bang it on your salty lips & tongue?

oh yeah - and the way you paint those lusty arrows on my skin
till i am blind & gutted, reduced to howls; dog language

but what if i want a cigarette and we have none?

i'll let you suck my finger or if you want you can suck your thumb and i won't ever tell anyone.