Click and Clone

Heartbeat-

            flipbook.

Clonebooth.

            *

Caught in the layer cake

of an ancient argument.

            *

Syllabic

Silhouettes

            *

(between)

lunar parenthesis

            *

morning &

evening grids

            *

Spirit construction

workers

see-through

dimensions.

            *

See you womorrow—

or maybe Satyrday?

            *

Surf’s Up!

            brainwaves

            *

Green

Mother

and Child

Green

Rocking Chair

Earth

            *

Love—

I have put on

this ape suit for you.

Pyrokinesis

Cast of Characters

Jerome, a poet with light brown hair and glasses

Elaine, a poet with medium brown hair and contact lenses

Martine, a poet with dark brown hair and glasses

Jerome: Pyrokinesis is when you look at a person and they burst into flame.

Elaine: I’m the opposite.  I look at a person and I burst into flames.

Martine: When I look at a person, they turn into water.

Jerome: I try to avoid looking at people.

Some Questions Movies Ask Us

What if I first saw you, a vacancy sign in a storm?

(Your hair dripping headlights)

What if I moved unaware of the surveillance camera?

(Clutching my incognito snacks)

What if accidents never happened?

What if you could only rescue one toy from the fire sale of childhood?

What makes giants barbaric?

Who can read misguided maps?

Can an entire civilization die of boredom?

Why were so many Indians white?

Bacchus

Wayne Koestenbaum has written a book

of captions and photos called Rome and Me.

I’m looking through it and it’s pretty funny.

Later, I’m trying to sleep (in the dream!)

and a guy with grapes on his head keeps

jumping on the bed.  I start to snarl at him,

but then I’m like “Oh, I get it—your Bacchus.”

dim sung

smug rungs

snug ruins

dumb song

did some

storm drum

slug dorm

drip son

dim sung

Orange and Brown Destination

Like sitting

in air-conditioned fire.

Antlers sprout

from glowing walls.

Post Sonnet*

Sniper ‘toyed’ with cops

School driver forgot tot

Canary cop is caged

Docs pin ‘hops’ on rabbit

Korean Ka-Boom Looms

Embalming Fluidity

Chorus of Worry

Wife dies in flat-fix tragedy

‘Madam’ stays in big house

Lethal home swindler sobs her way to jail

Dept. stores sales rise from the dead

Suspect blows as kin take stand

Rock ‘n’ roll gets old

We’ll always hate Paris

* every line is a New York Post headline

that moment

during dinner

when the waitress

comes into the room

with a tray

of flickering votives

(like birthday

sans cake)

and sets one down

on each table

while the manager

dims the lights

and the music

(some sort of flamenco)

gets louder

as everyone relaxes

and it seems

the room grows bigger

more spacious

yet smaller

more intimate

at the same time

Pink Christmas

for David Trinidad

Once again pink seeps in.

The rose door is ajar.

In the pink cubicle,

pink ghosts are loosed.

Pink pirates navigate

the deep magenta seas.

Under a necklace of icy lights,

a trio of pink ladies

sip Pink Squirrels studiously.

They are my Alma Mater.

Pink completes the crossword puzzle.

Pink sands shift

in the terra-forming of memory.

Emerald City

I’m going to Emerald City, Emerald City here I come

I’m going to Emerald City, Emerald City here I come

They got some crazy little wizards there

                        And I’m gonna get me one.

            Well I might take a plane

I might use a cane, but if I have to crawl

            I’m gonna get there just the same

I’m going to Emerald City, Emerald City here I come

            They got some crazy little wizards there

                        And I’m gonna get me one.