bang bang said i to she to you to me

old water is bubbling from the drain the light
-bulb just went out again fainting black
wolves with their teeth are splitting
indecision like a reef

Jasper discovers he's alone as the princess
steals his throne but she took him
for a fool because her father
is so cruel

burn like she did to the knight or like
Henry to his wife but don't tell me
that you heard that the meadow
killed the bird

beckon to the open stair that all we named
could not be shared but then the torch
was set to frost could it be that
we are lost

Madame Savage took her gun and let her
babies have some fun as she melted
down her ring so that Jules could
have a string

the banker's niece's daughter's son broke
his back on bread and gum but no
worries to be had the shrink shall
fix this salty lad

stop says Go says strange says know but
no we cannot leave the show before
the Magic Man is here that my
friend is rather queer

can't you see this is my pain that drives me
to be so insane and compels me to your
side and causes me to run and

A character poem for Mr. Augustine

Transylvanian harlot with her apricots all in a row,
she took my hand and bode me, bade me, bidded
on my sultry orange peels and curled her hand
into a ball and smacked me in the kisser

is this love?

Eulogy for A-

You mortal girl

Your wind breathes life to kindling flame
Your wayward mystic aphrodisiac,
The totems of some ruined realm

The words that pour from honeycombs
That secret secant umbrage can command,
The jealousy of night terrors

Shadow men with their hungry knives
That take my angel from her happy home
Surrounding me now like a noose

My phantom love

Your Manservant Is Broken

Leather, black, shining in the filthy street light
Strangers drawing circles on their heads
Whips and fashion, madness on a red brick
A road that stretches deep into the night

Woman, black, fingers twisted like a mirror
Steel and chrome, lantern glowing so bright
Tragic, holy, stranded on the river
A vision stretches to be near to her

Nightmare, black, shining as an onyx tower
Thunder breaking down along the line
Droning, dreaming, dead as empty Jesus
The rhythm stretches as the notes run sour


Can we glitter, Antonine?
Shall we melt all the gold?
Are you looking for the truth?
Has the savior been sold?

Can I save you, Antonine?
Is there blood in the pool?
Do the martyrs speak freely?
Where now is your brave fool?

Can they hear it, Antonine?
Are the strings still too loud?
Have the angels been butchered?
Shall you part from your cloud?

Can the night come, Antonine?
Do they call me your slave?
Is our bed still left empty?
Am I still in my grave?

On Baghdad

It was Thursday and the war had just started.
With reverence, we sat and saw the bombardment.
The screen was green and black, the shades of murder.
Papa drank a Bud Light.
Mother knitted a red scarf.

It was Thursday and the war had just begun.
Screams were filtered out of live broadcasts.
The sun shined as it always did.
There were no bullets or helicopters.
I played in the back yard.

It was Thursday and the war was in bloom.
Vague notions wavered through the air.
Lies became a symphony.
Someone danced in Washington.
A songbird cawed a dirge.

It was Thursday and the war was everywhere.
A man was frowning on a subway line.
The newspapers were aghast with patriotism.
It was a day like any other.
And nothing was ever the same.