air aversion

i am plagued by

a reoccurring dream.

i am in an airplane

a boeing 747.

i perch anxious in my seat

a woman sat next to me.

i feel the plane take off

a revving engine.

i look out the window

a cityscape gray.

i wait to gain altitude

a voice declares emergency.

i see the tops of tall buildings

a little too clearly.

i panic.

i scream.

i cover my face.

i awaken upset.

a glass of water, please?

anniversary

it's been nearly a year since i posted my first poem-like-attempt on here.

what did i hope to accomplish?  to share my writing with someone, perhaps a "one" who i'd never met and connect.  or piss off.  or fall in love with.  

i write because i am.  i write because i talk in circles.  because women break my heart and men tickle me to death.  i put words together like a seamstress with a bent needle.  i write like a scorpio.  belligerent and lusty.  words find me after a good fight, a documentary about migration, and well into a bottle of wine.  i can write sober and i will.

there is truth and ignorance in my words.  like a bicycle wheel, i have spoke-n.  ha.  that is the most brilliant line i have said today.  sorry.  that is pretentious.  

welcome.

coyote and crow.

coyote and crow met for a drink.

crow lit a camel, "night or day?"

"always day." said coyote.

"really? never would a guessed."

"ole' lonely finds me at dusk, crow."  

coyote took a drink.

midnight thirteen.

he's howling outside my window.

god damn hound of the baskervilles.  

his nose raw red with muddied mane,

sullen beast wails to no kindred echo

like a man left suddenly widowed.

i hit the flood light to send him packing.

"closing time boys."  the bartender

wiped down the bar.

crow threw down a quarter and 

coyote licked his lip, left the bar

and crossed the street

into darkness.

leather coat

the banquet was full of prime rib.  women laced in corsets.  men sweating tuxedos.  he sat heavy at the bar, arms longer than expected - hair that held gel.  she sipped from pink madness and approached with a napkin spiked to her heel.

"may i?" she perched, pulling the skirt taunt under her ass like a christmas ribbon to a child's finger.  "i'm juliette."  she smiled, selling real estate between molars.  dipping her hand deep into purse, she pulled out a receipt scribbled in ball point madness.  

"care to hear a story?" she read.  he stood, dawning a black leather jacket.  it smelled like a beating.  the servers shouted last call for american slop and she put the paper to bed.

foot speak love

beneath you

my naked foot

reminds me

it's time.

your beauty 

eclipses the moon gaze

and i awake embraced -

full of shameless hope.

midnight jazz 

we wander through

pages unscripted.

write with me.

learned

pool stick

sticking me again

lesson learned

twice.

co-worker brian

his head

a penny

on a desk

disproportionate.

effeminate

hands clutch

my stapler -

give it back.

licking toads

like envelopes

talking 

on my telephone,

to his mother.

sitting cross-legged in the bathroom

eating spaghetti

i am alone (but you are not alone)

there are 2 scabs on my toes from shoes expired in 2000

and a glass of wine on a nearby ledge, 2/3 full. 

optimism.

it's time to bury this leaf in mud's melting pot.

run from the reaper to convince myself there is

still flesh in the body of your sentences

but karma surrounds

me with jumping spiders, those reincarnates of resentment.

amber showers fossilize love's learnings,

skeletons of desire, disaster, indulgent boners.

dna of a woman woven together,

tattered patterns make my

slumbers' blanket.

sleep to remember.

sleep to forget.

and goodnight.

stranger poems

recently, i posted a profile on the stranger's lovelab site. don't judge. there is something fascinating about people's descriptions of self and i created a poem from an array of personal ad headlines. my rules were 2: never put lines from the same person back to back and no filler words to help transitions.  

let me begin.

This part makes me laugh and feel icky at the same time. I just transformed 4 lbs of meat into balls. To make it simple, lets just think about it in terms of work and play. I enjoy the night life, having finally overcome a lifelong bout with a near-debilitating stuttering problem. I enjoy my little world of improv theater, filmmaking, friends, karaoke, writing funny songs for people, sleeping in on Saturdays, creating things, eating food, hanging with babies, surprises, live music in small venues, pubs, beer, martinis, movies and odd bits of pop culture trivia. All in all, it will be a delish addition to the Swedish christmas feast we're having. And I scrub up well.

I’m a well-hung sexually talented stud looking for a married woman who wants to make her husband jealous in order to procure expensive gifts from him. Tricky little mousey....you stole my cheese. I am what i am, a tragically disfigured man from a paper-mill explosion, i'm just now getting back into the swing. The meat is now known as Swedish meatballs. I believe in a world where everyone is treated with respect, and it is far better to help others than to be greedy. ( i.e. john lennon's 'imagine') and I have a terrible problem with staring at people - I wish I could draw everyone I come in to contact with.

Kinky Little Kitten. Here's what I do and what I like:
I'm pretty adaptable, and enjoy a wide range of things. A person's life can be divided into a number of different categories. Love, Meditation, Yoga, Cuddling, Nature, Camping, Hiking, Reading, Movies, Visionary Art, Learning, Audio lectures, Speeches, Plants, Mushrooms, Fulfilling my required duties in our democracy, World Peace, Communication, Vegetarianism, Environmentalism, Buddhism. I'm a male art model with a grant from the Endowment For the Arts, and a member of the community in good standing, seeks skinny love magician, muse, and life-force generator for the purposes of dreaming together.

While I tend towards jeans and boots, I'm not afraid to put on a suit.
I had a tarot reading some years ago that the girl of my dreams would be introduced to me through a stranger...and that my parents wouldn't like her. Now I'm looking for nothing and no one that cares about nothing and no one but doesn't want to be alone.

merry christmas.