Bulletproof

Start of conversations,
industrial beat,
words,
Gothic cathedrals
scrapping my dignity.

the strings are loosened
and tightened up
to my neck.

And I don't expect to feel regret from this.

My taste,
better,
your queers,
cheap imitation of reality.
My scream,
My cream,
better.

I don't expect to feel regret from this.

Your walk so pop,
your studded tongue,
your skin breaking leather,
where haven't you been?

Don't expect to feel regret from this.

My hair,
pulled,
you,
quenching and starving
twisting and knotting.

Expect to feel regret from this.

Down the throat
two or three pills,
full pupils = bulletproof.

Regret from this?

Criticisms burning
on the same pace as
your cigarette
and you're
careless with
the ash.

It's everywhere
regret.

The Corner Table: The Less Lonely

From a steamy window
I watch
singular couples
open & close their mouths.
To eat.

I hear what they say:
the clinking of silverware.
I feel what they feel:
medium rare emotions.

Reincarnation Sucks

Rotten_____________ The Catholic Bishop
eyes made___________The land owner,
of petroleum_________ one of those
dirty spilled__________ royalty wannabe
oil. ------------------------------------------------- over blood on battlefield.
___________________pigs.

Garbage teeth,
the smile of a
traitor,_____________ Bless me
a quick stab__________ for being
from behind. ------------------------------------- aim for the kidney.
__________________A SKEPTICAL
__________________vegetarian.
Breath of poison,
touch of leprosy,
you sure stink of
Black Plague. ------------------------------------- corpses eater.

You Do but You Don't

My days
the stops
uptown
downtown
going express...!
I repeat,
express going
downtown.

Hey, I have
an unlimited
ride,
that means
all I can do
is just ride
and ride...

How many transfers
do I have to keep
making?

But if I get off
I'm going to have
to walk...
(the purpose of
the ride:
lost)

I must have gone
through the whole

alphabet
&
numbers

and still,
I'm left

still.

Hide & Seek

Our memories:
individually
wrapped.
The finest
artisan
chocolate
I savor

slooooooowly.

They melt
on my tongue.

Coloring

Nordic forms
on their own,
finest birch-cedar
lips
and travel in
pentatonic scale,

the remote sound
of rain
condensed on
the subway windows,
the smoke of continuous
fried noodles reminds me
this is reality.

As far as my
shut eyes can bring me,
as far as my
iPod can make
the crowd move
with a little heart,
that's where, that's where

mud and dew make love,
oak and sage intertwine,
sand and blood,
mohawk and bud...

and Nordic forms
on their own.

the Violins Operetta

the Poem
was born
in the morning
and was dead
by dusk.

about a poet

it's said that a poet during abstinence periods embodies the persona of a blind. It's swallowing adrenaline from shot glasses when you're clearly not a drinker.

Nausea.

Dizziness.

Altered state.

Arrhythmia.

Control. And a new form of art is born.

Shuttle Bus

@ Grand Central

Where it's impossible
to avoid
time.
The cloth covers
a mini newsstand,
time for that
Indian to return to
Palace-High
(in the Bronx)

Why am I laughing?
I'm the one killing
time
side by side
hand in hand
with a forlorn
instead
of bed
(the officer: NO SLEEPING!)
(the bum, jumpy: yes, SIR!)
(me, I just looked up: I'm clearly NOT a bum, pig!).

I could have been,
in the last minutes
of a New York
to be missed
in bed.

But time's implacable.
The clock keeps
chopping.

I also had better to do:
I listened to music,
with no lights on.

She had better to do:
she was in bed.