Sunday, December 27, 2009

net crush

Between his work tools

he spares a thought,

it is enough

for eye and eye to meet

word and word

to stand side by side

It is the rhythm

of question and answer

but the real thing

is him simmering

down your breath

as you take him home

on a long memory

and google up his name


sick, almost obsessed

in the cold winter morning

you know where he lives

his age

even his email address

what next?

close your eyes and


every breath has met

every thought

every gut

you know this is love

and you can do nothing

about it.


Friday, December 4, 2009

writing is to me

wait for it

like a mosquito

to insert its proboscis

slowly at first

then quick, rapid


the world is spinning out of control

his mind is spinning with food thoughts

this drink

would be enough

for the whole night

or perhaps not

if his stomach is libidinous

you wait

with a flat hand

and rush


blood smeared with black insect body

there you have your muse covered

in first draft